It was rainy. It was dark. It was night.
It was like a bad start to a very bad story. Continue reading
Fantasy
The Journey Back
Norwegian Forest Cat
Peter pulled boots over calves lengthened and strengthened by his transition from boy to youth, and seasoned by grief over his sister’s death. Four years ago she’d been found in the depths of the Dark Wood, her cat pressed against her cold belly, hissing at all who approached. Continue reading
But the People Can’t Wait
The pen is mightier than the sword, but Actions must continue the conversation.
He lay the quill down beside his Manifesto, reaching to close the cap on the near-empty inkwell. Continue reading
A priest, a rabbi and a lady snake charmer walk into a bar…
Blast from the past, or “You HAD to encourage her, didn’t you!?”
Tracy Fabre and Con Chapman, from back in the Gather days: In a comment on his Gather post today, Con said he wanted to go into the business of providing writing prompts. I “hired” him (pro bono, of course) to suggest a prompt for this week. He said, “A priest, a rabbi and a lady snake charmer walk into a bar…”
Now run with it, folks. Continue reading
The Sun Shines on the Half-Moon Café
(Synopsis in a 9-word flash): Waitress Helen saves the day, vanquishing slimy memory monster.
The usual crowd was gathered at the Half Moon Café. Faded awnings snap in the cool October night as condensation slides down the tiny restaurant’s wide front windows.
Shelly, in her booth, flips her hair back to catch a glimpse of kitchen staff, Josh. His honestly-earned farmer’s tan flashes below his white t-shirt as he lugs a tub of dishes to the kitchen. She parts her lips. He blushes and smiles. Continue reading
Lilimor and the Fiddler
Lilimor gazed across the field of wild strawberries into the Great Wood. She didn’t have enough berries to fill her basket, but the fiddle called her to the waterfall within. Its song enticed, one she almost recognized and had to sing. Continue reading
Happy Santa Lucia Day! (Dec 13th)
We waited, stamped our feet in the deep snow. Night was at its longest; Bitter Winter ruled. Today Santa Lucia would arrive, her crown of candles pushing back the darkness, her basket of hot cranberry-cardamom buns and those sweet, tiny oranges swinging heavy on her lissome arm.
But the dawn didn’t come. Continue reading
Valley of the Trolls 