In deep woods, somewhere near the middle and the end, launching from the first and hovering near the last, always returning to the origin, is a clearing. Sometimes there, other times elsewhere, most often not present at all. Continue reading
Author: Liz H-H
RIP Twin Cities
This gentle giant
Ended by corrupt police
Remember George Floyd.
Hope strained, smoke-stained streets
Shattered hearts, Minnesota
Patience, as we heal.
(This, on top of COVID. And those who gather together–prayers broken by opportunistic anarchists–risk a steeper next wave in the coming weeks.)
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2020)
Necessary Sacrifice
The spellbook was specific: one hundred candles to draw and light the circle, less one for each sorceress. Fewer, and the plague would continue. Once fully lit, the circle could not be crossed. Back to back, the three worked quickly, coaxing flame from dry wick. The twins moved clockwise, junior apprentice Bella counterclockwise. Continue reading
Bring on Night
Slim’s Search for Inspiration
There’s fun to be had at the Ranch as we read and write our way through quarantine. Come and join us (Hyperlink below)!
Sunlight flashed a line ‘cross the floor
Rusty squeak of batwing doors
A buckaroo walks into a bar… Continue reading
Photo & Film on NewsLine Tonight
Photo by Linnaea Mallette
Jack stood at the canyon’s edge and switched his phone to selfie mode. Too much face, not enough canyon. “All wrong,” he muttered. “I need maximum impressiveness.”
Phone in hand, he climbed the ledge, mindful of the low safety railing, and turned his back to the canyon. Still too much face. It was then that he noticed the tiny icons on the bottom of his screen. A choice between many figures, or one. He pressed many figures. “Wow! Way more canyon, just enough face.” Continue reading
