“Jennifer! I can’t believe you’re letting him do that! Isaiah, get down right now!” “Mom, it’s no big deal, he does it all the time. He’s 7-years-old and he hasn’t fallen yet.” “That’s ridiculous, that doesn’t mean he won’t fall.” “At this point, if he falls, he’ll learn – and he won’t do
Category: writing
Autumn mold, true, bold Purple luscious webs of silk Grasses wave their spores Oh, I love a Haiku! Permission to write nonsense, how brilliant! This is a Haiku in response to the Trifextra Challenge, something new I think I’ll be doing weekly now, so keep your eyes peeled for some more
Indian summer in the south is something to be feared, she flew out of the hotel and the heat slammed into her. Instantly regretting her decision to bring a jacket, she mentally fumbled knowing she needed no extra baggage. Shake it off. Her feet hit the sweltering pavement with a determination that worked its way
Grabbing her clothes; she was determined to find answers today. As she slipped on her jeans she stuck her hands in the pockets and found the little Hello Kitty eraser she’d always kept as good luck. She rubbed the smooth edges; worn like velvet from absent-minded rubbing. This time it was not absent-minded. This time
CiCi woke up to the sun shining gently across the sheets. Breathing deeply, she felt peaceful; as she lay there the memory of the day before came back more gently than she had expected. She was comforted by the realization that as she assimilated this new information, she filled a void she hadn’t even known
I’ve been writing a disjointed story/treatment for a novel/short story – in the form of responses to the perfect and fantabulous prompt – in the form of a song – hosted by my most crazy musical brother in arms Lance from My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog. The only rule? Your post must be
Her feet pounded on the dry cracked earth. Dust rose like smoke clouds behind her as she ran across the barren expanse of land: A courtyard surrounded by housing for the Military Officers. There were no children playing out in the open; at any moment there could be shells, or gun shots. She got home
She bolted from the drugstore. Leaning against the closed-door she took big gulps of air. Her eyes filled with tears; she looked up to see the sky streaked with gray. The kindness and warmth Beaufort had shown her was overwhelming. Her thoughts came fast and hard; This explained her emotionally distant parents. Lu was her mother.
His name was Beaufort Jones, his family had owned this drugstore for over 100 years. He knew Lu – he knew Lu for longer than I had known the world. His hand rubbed a cloth over the gleaming counter, tracing large circles that had been marked for a century. Beaufort looked at me out of the corner
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