Sara’d planned a lifetime for this.
She’d done the research: observation, repeated sampling, clearly defined measures, notes on outliers, meteorological forecast, personality inventory (willingly cadged by some pig from the father’s file cabinet. Some pig, indeed!). Continue reading
He lay, entombed in mud and ice and darkness. He’d lain there so long that fine, tough filaments had grown over his limbs, the bridge of his nose, twining around the desiccated, corded column of his neck. He’d pull the blanket higher, cover the chilled vee of his pajama top…but no…too much of an effort. He’d gone too far away. Continue reading
“Shit!” Her ankle wobbled as she made her way across Old Towne Cobblestone Bridge. The rain had been brief, but drenching. Temperatures were dropping precipitously.
She’d made sure he was following. Continue reading
It’s a two-fer this week, combination 6 Sentence story and Carrot Ranch prompts!
The stewpot was emptied of root vegetables, venison gratefully given, and thick brown gravy sweetened with brunost. Crumbs of spilled flatbread caught the flicker of resting embers, and a half-dozen children snored under heavy woolen blankets. The littlest, wrapped in rabbit’s fur, lay in his mother’s arms. Continue reading
Elbows on bent knees,
Hands dangle between, wings on a gentle-breezed bird.
Butt planted, chilly on Autumnal Earth.
Grass spent, golden and crackling
Under a sky sharp as blue porcelain.
Leaves flicker down from balding trees,
The memories still, cut deep.
The boat tosses and turns, water crashing over its bow, threatening to tip the tiny crew into the roiling waters.
“I can’t hold our course, Captain!”
“Look alive, Fishlegs! The deadly virus cure’s gotta get to Littleton before sunrise.” Continue reading
Pic from the National Portrait Gallery website, UK. Photographer Lewis Carroll
“Come on Alice, tell the tale.”
“We won’t be shocked, dearest.”
“There’s nothing to tell. He was a shy man, bit of a stutterer, and very good at storytelling and maths.” Continue reading
She stared at the first run, several scenes of a promising short story. She sighs at the hand-written rollercoaster of initiating events, triggers, resolutions, a final dramatic crisis, and a resolution that leaves the reader both satisfied, and wanting more. There’s also the novel…
It's All True, None of It's True. Don't Ask.
Words of a clarklike female
A writing blog by H.R.R. Gorman
To participate in the Ragtag Daily Prompt, create a Pingback to your post, or copy and paste the link to your post into the comments. And while you’re there, why not check out some of the other posts too!
Fiction Writing
Lance Greenfield - Night Writer
“Beauty was not simply something to behold; it was something one could do.” – Toni Morrison
Original Writing Inspired by King, Poe, and The Twilight Zone
Walk On The Wild Side
Writing is Communication
