Watcher Doings 30

/ Liz H-H / 3 Comments
juicy tangerine wedges

Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=GROUND. Read, write and come back for more SIX SENTENCE STORIES.   (Link goes active Wed night).

(Pause to author sipping cold coffee as she gazes, dismayed, at the piles of springtime paperwork to be filed, the folder holding pages of notes from workshopping another long short story/possible novella, and emails reminding her that edits are due for a group project. The heels of her hands are cold and she realizes she needs to drape the green wool shawl over her shoulders because no sunshine today; she will not regret the last several days out walking in sunshine and snowmelt in the February false Spring.)

***  

Picture this instead: Ferah and Rockmouse have caught their breath and Rockmouse covers ground in split seconds to wrangle the other gnomes into some kind of order so that the Weber barbecue can be saved, oranges confiscated, and dinner be served up, while Ferah slips silently across pine needled ground to the shed and gently opens the door to find her brother Montay, exhausted and naked, lying on the floor in human form, bits of snakeskin stuck to his glistening skin (never shapeshift while molting; he is nauseated, too).

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Watcher Doings 29

/ Liz H-H / 18 Comments
juicy tangerine wedges

Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=MARK. Read, write and come back for more SIX SENTENCE STORIES.   (Link goes active Wed night).

“I’m going to ask you to keep the secret…” said Ferah, as she and Rockmouse reached the top of the stairs that led up from the dock, adding “about Montay in the shed—I’ll tell you all when I’ve figured out what to do—but I need to know exactly what’s best, first.”

Panting, Rockmouse volleyed back, “I get that, but has it occurred to you that we’re here to help? I mean, how dangerous is Montay, anyhow?”

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Watcher Doings 28

/ Liz H-H / 9 Comments
juicy tangerine wedges

Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=BRAND. Read, write and come back for more SIX SENTENCE STORIES.  

After some time of sitting in sisterly fashion staring out at the big lake’s waves, and having found peace, if not answers to their dilemma, Rockmouse sighed and turned to Ferah.

“What are you holding back?” she asked Ferah.

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JusJoJan26 Day 30: Cinnamon

/ Liz H-H / 3 Comments
face of a black cat

January 30: CINNAMON. Many Thanks to Tessa K. (Itsa me! Nom de Plume) for today’s prompt, as we take a moment or two each day this month to reflect on words that come from the community. And thanks to Linda G Hill for getting us organized!

I don’t know what they put in the new cat food formula the veterinarian gave me, but it sure had an affect on my old Tuxedo cat, Tolstoy. We’ve been together for about 15 years, and he’s gone from fluffy, with wizard locks beside each ear and a sage, but kittenish expression, to a bony-bummed, splay-legged, swinging belly, rheumy-eyed dreamer who seeks the sun’s warm rays in winter, but loves snuggling at night. We have a lot in common, in our respective old ages.

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JusJoJan26 Day 29: Prompt

/ Liz H-H / 2 Comments
juicy tangerine wedges

January 29: PROMPT. Many Thanks to Cheryl for today’s prompt, as we take a moment or two each day this month to reflect on words that come from the community. And thanks to Linda G Hill for getting us organized!

Watcher Doings Extra: Ferah

“Sittin’ on the dock of the bay, watchin’ the tide roll away…”

God knows she’d spent plenty of time staring out at the waves, the gulls bobbing like whitecaps let loose when the winds picked up on gray afternoons. When cold rain dimpled those same white-capped waves on stormy days, she’d stand in the treasures she’d found in the shed, the fisherman’s long jacket flapping around her long legs, a sou’wester tied under her chin, her feet bare and near frozen, but turned northward. The scene was different than what her deep-forested homeland offered up, and sometimes she thought she’d grown up in the wrong place, wrong time.  

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