He scanned her personal ad quickly before carefully composing his response and invitation; a woman with Suzy’s level of sophistication, stunning beauty, and sparkling sense of humor would not be on that dating site for very long, before she’d be wooed and snatched up by a bevy of beautiful boys. Continue reading
I have the great pleasure of being allowed to sit in the Author’s Chair in the Saddle Up Saloon over at the Carrot Ranch. It’s headquartered somewhere in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and around the world, where Rough Writers play with weekly prompts, poetry challenges, and the occasional Online Karaoke. Cowpoke or not, all are welcome to play and/or read.
My time in this week’s Author’s Chair is a bit of dark humor about a hungry giant, some carelessly spunky spelunkers, and the townsfolk nestled in the valley below (based on a Six Sentence Story that like Hugo, got a bit larger). Here’s an excerpt to start, or go on ahead and belly right up to the bar at the Saloon for the full text, and an audio of me reading the tale. Once upon a time:
Giant Problem Solved by Liz Husebye Hartmann
(Trigger alert: Not a tale for the wee ones)
Hugo’s belly pangs rumbled down the darkening mountainside above Heffinger Hollow. He was sorely tempted to nibble on a half-cooked morsel or two of the spunky spelunkers that frequented Carbuncle Caverns. This particular group of spelunkers had surprised the village by sneaking in to the Carbuncle and setting out to explore without a guide. They’d zigged when they should have zagged on that seventh leg of the descent, and had fallen deep into the bowels of the lowest cavern of Carbuncle.
This had proved deadly for them, but put their corpses within easy reach of Hugo…
But a bit of history, first…”
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2021)
The storage closet was packed with slides, cellulose family movies, and photo albums (these last, at least, were sorted and labeled). Continue reading
Her boots crackled across dusty gravel, her lungs sore from moving so fast for so long, and though parched under the white-hot sun, Amy relished the taste of blood in her mouth for its iron resolve and its thin liquidity. Continue reading
They could’ve gone to the right
To the tidy brown cottage in the ring of aspens.
Goat nibbling happily on the turf roof.
It had reminded them of home.
But they went left.
To the gingerbread house with the candy kitchen. Continue reading