reverie broken memories wet on my cheek a dream in a tear Thanks to Putting My Feet in the Dirt and to Fandango for two great ideas that worked perfectly together. Check out their sites for great writing and the rules of the game.
Once, fame had been his drug. Now, those covers were nothing but an anathema. A reminder of his age. All he wanted was peace. But they always found him. Somehow. He took a deep breath. Tossed his hair. Smiled. Maybe just one photo he thought as the giggling middle-aged women approached. Late to the game… Continue reading Finding Fabio
This week! I yi yi! No wonder today's Just Jot January prompt reminded me of this commercial from my childhood for the Inch Worm Toy Granted I was probably out of the target age but I had the same reaction then as I do now. You're getting nowhere on that ridiculous thing. Get off that… Continue reading Inch Worm Angst
November was NaNoWriMo. And many people in my sphere (be it virtual or irl) participated. Me? I went another route. I didn’t add a single word to my novel-in-progress. And as we enter December, I continue to not write. If this not-writing goes on much longer, it may necessitate a designation change from novel-in-progress to… Continue reading Writing that Novel: Block, Break, or Bail?
She sat on the breakwater and hoped the sound of the waves would soothe her. His words hadn’t. “In between the clover and the dampened earth.” That’s how the minister described it. Sounded poetic. Nicer than “here’s where we buried her body.” But that was reality. Ma was dead. And no pretty words were going… Continue reading The Breakwater
She blinked at her reflection. Was she destined to always be cast in the role of “mother”? Hell she thought. Let’s rock-n-roll. Chopping as she stared at her old eyes under the new fringe. (34 words exactly) The Battle of the Bang. I know it well! I've spent a life time chopping and growing and… Continue reading Old Eyes New Fringe
commemoration? or hidden treasure buried? the harvest lays bare This week's Friday Fictioners photo prompt (courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff) brought to mind all sorts of dark thoughts, which made me wonder--why are my thoughts so darn dark? It doesn't have to be a murdered girl's gravesite. It could something completely innocent. Even something fun! So after battling… Continue reading harvest
Where the hell was that girl with his whiskey? It was cold in the courtyard. And drafty. But they wouldn’t let him smoke inside. And he really needed one. It was his first in six months so he probably didn’t need it so much as he wanted it. But right now he wasn’t in the… Continue reading Rejection
love, hot to the touch still rough at the edges, yet soft in its embrace Today's haiku was inspired by dVerse and the challenge to think about touch. Plus, I REALLY REALLY wanted to capture the essence of this photo from over at The Haunted Wordsmith. How'd I do? Got touch?
truthfully she pledged to “love honor and obey” then parody died Thanks to FOWC and Ronovan Writes for the prompts. And for the record, this is not a reflection on my marriage, which is alive and happy, maybe because we never promised to "obey." 😉