Taking Stock of Things

Norwegian Forest CatNorwegian Forest Cat


We write because it feels good,

Like after a long, exhausting hike

When you sit on your front steps

Watching the cat paw

For fresh grass under the snow.

And also because

We feel itchy and awful when we don’t…

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2023)

Abandoned

shadow silhouette in a dark hallway

The spliff flared and hissed at midnight, lighting up Joel’s sharp features. He passed the butt to another hand hard as his own, exhaled, and pushed the swing back. The chains were icy in his fingers, but the pain felt good. Continue reading

Follow 25 and 26

The challenge? Write a story in 6 sentences, no more & no less, and if you’d like, share your creation or just visit and comment on others’ ideas, with GirlieOnTheEdge, Denise. The prompt is “SILK”, and here’s where you join the party:   Six Sentence Stories

Follow 25

The disco music faded behind them as their descent down the tunneled slide, surprisingly slow and steady, led them around corners, into sudden drops, and sinewy curves that seemed to double back on their journey. Along the way, Jill had managed to grab Jack’s other ankle and pull herself further up his legs, hooking his feet underneath her armpits; what would have been an embarrassing position under any other circumstance wasn’t going to rattle her calm, not after the adventures they’d had since being pulled through the stained glass portal and into the fairy tale world. Continue reading

Follow 24

Hand-Holding-Carrots

The eldritch space horror smashed against the window, cracking the glass. Jack and Jill dropped hands, stumbling backward. The lounge stereo, silent before, crackled to life. Above, a disco ball groaned and clattered, spackling light over every surface. Continue reading

Follow 22 and 23

Follow 22

The challenge? Write a story in 6 sentences, no more & no less, and if you’d like, share your creation or just visit and comment on others’ ideas, with GirlieOnTheEdge, Denise. The prompt is “LOUNGE”, and here’s where you join the party: Six Sentence Stories  

Jack leaned back against the pestle, slowing its side-to-side roll inside the mortar as it approached the golden cupola, finally stopping just below where cupola met tower, to reveal a red door with a tarnished brass keyhole.

Jill pushed against the door and exclaimed, “Just our luck Jack, the damned thing’s locked!”

“I’ve got this,” he answered, blowing on his chilly fingers before slipping his switchblade out of his pocket and deftly digging and jiggling it in the keyhole; he smiled as the lock clicked open, and gave the door a firm push. Continue reading