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 “MARK”, and here’s where you join the party: Six Sentence Stories
Once, long ago in the Beforetimes, before people were a thing,
Before shields and swords and maidens and hordes of gold and jewels created conquering kingdoms,
Before dragons ruled the land,
A mountain rose out of steaming seas, from ribbons of liquid fire, piling itself upon itself. Continue reading
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 “Marvel”, and here’s where you join the party: Six Sentence Stories
Most superheroes start out simply.
A being of humble origin but fatally flawed,
is robbed of a birthright,
ejected from a home planet,
or altered by science gone wrong. Continue reading
Norwegian Forest Cat
As part of my studies of Gothic fairy tales I offer up this quick write from our Carterhaugh class today today, all in the service of learning and expressing and using NaNoWriMo to focus in on what needs to be. As it is written, so mote it be…
Honoring My Gothic Present
I am the old woman you meet in the woods, dressed in shapeless, comfortable black, salt and pepper hair tucked under the hood of my green, woolen shawl as I follow the deer paths through the darker parts of the Wood. My boots are sturdy, laced over the ankle and meant for hiking, but if you look closely at my chicken legs, you’ll see that my boots are a deep burgundy color. 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.
He holds out his hand
Groom to the beautiful bride
Their joy is unmatched
At his age, you’d expect a lot less.
At his age, you’d expect his eyes to grow wide
His mouth to open in shock,
His shoulders to rise and curl around himself in protection. Continue reading
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
Outside my window, all is brightness
Brilliant sun in each dew drop, diamonds poised on overgrown grass
Robin’s egg blue, crumbled and powdered, smoothed across the sky
Fresh-whipped creamy clouds, heavy dollops spooned out overhead
It seems an abomination