Cheers, Cavanaugh Blogfest!

Welcome to the Cheers, Cavanaugh Blogfest.

Here’s the lowdown:

Have you ever attended a holiday party where you bump into the one person who's always been there for you throughout the last year? You’d want to thank them for being incredibly stellar, right? If there’s one person in the Blogosphere who you would want to say cheers to, who would it be?

For us, it was a no-brainer - Alex “no hyperlink needed” Cavanaugh!

Without being asked, Alex has become a blogging enigma, always helping hundreds of his fellow authors by announcing book releases, hosting guest posts, guest interviews and always leaving positive comments. We can’t have a live party for the Ninja Captain, but we can host a yuletide BlogFest!

Hosted by Mark Koopmans, Morgan Shamy, David Powers King and Stephen Tremp, this blogfest will run from December 10 - 12!

On those days, answer these four questions as creatively as you'd like:

·        In +/- 20 words, what does Alex look like?

·        In +/- 20 words, who could play Alex in a documentary (living or dead)?

·        In +/- 20 words, who does Alex remind you of?

·        In +/- 100 words, (excluding the title) write flash fiction using all these prompts:  Cavanaugh, Ninja, IWGS, Cosbolt, guitar

Here are the rules:

·        Be a Follower

·        Join the Linky List

·        Post your 200 word contribution       

·        Have fun?

I chose to write my entire tribute below as a piece of flash fiction, clocking in at 199 words.

Interpret it as you will.  I just hope you enjoy it, Alex.  Thanks for all you do!  XOXO

~ Nancy

“Your Pain is Self-Chosen”

A single light shone down onto the darkened seven-inch high platform The Cosbolt referred to as a stage.  A narrow triangle of smoke-filled air glowed above a lone performer’s head.  He sat on a wooden stool, one foot propped up, a guitar slung across his knee.  His chin lowered, his short, dark hair glistened like a halo.  As he raised his hazel eyes to the black space before him, his broad shoulders lifted, and he drew in a measured breath. 

Silence surrendered to gentle strums of the metal strings and soft vibrato of Cavanaugh’s recorded voice, a perfect rendition of Layne Staley’s Nutshell.  His gaze held firm to the dark form of the actress playing his wife, sitting four feet away at a small round table.  A knowing smile split her ruby-red lips and a flash of white dazzled the music ninja as the lyrics trailed away and the music ebbed. 

He mouthed I love you before the light above faded.  The hushed crowd, still cocooned in darkness, erupted into untamed applause and howls of admiration.  Spotlights flickered on, illuminating the red IWSG banner behind the stage.

The director yelled, “Cut!  Thanks, Mr. Jackman.  You’ve done Alex proud!”