Carrots. Original public domain image from Wikimedia Commons
Family, friends and relations were spread all about the warren’s floor, bellies pooched upwards, at the insistence of their innards. The holiday feast, so successful, meant that nobody had energy enough to grab the remote and turn on the football game. “Oh my!” they all sighed. Continue reading
Short tales from The Valley of the Trolls
Natalie was born in Enoch Bunch’s trailer bed, a-way pas’ midnight, under a rare third moon in chill October. Or maybe she was left there. Continue reading
Back in the saddle again, after a break!
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 “ETERNAL”, and here’s where you join the party: Six Sentence Stories
Slip on the Sorrels with a scrape and a thump, follow with a puffy jacket and least favorite hat with that oversized faux-rabbit pompom on the top. The undercarriage has been taken care of with moisture-wicking long johns, thin wool socks, a heavy-duty sport bra, and an expendable pair of undies. Slide a pair of choppers with removable wool liners over bone-white fingers, rarin’ to get to work and heat things up. Continue reading
Hugo, as a young one, as seen by Kittelson
Hugo was unhappy. He’d been left in the tree swing too long. The swing, his favorite, hung from a branch of the biggest Douglas fir on Heffinger Mountain. A snack, a nap, a swing in the sack, and he’d be a happy boy all day. Continue reading
Streams of consciousness come from all quarters,
Hurrying to create a sense of balance,
To find peace in some blessed gathering place.
Our origins are underground, but
We tumble down waterfalls,
Stretch and roll along shores both verdant and blasted,
Before resting in an ocean
That may need to cover the entire world before the end times. Continue reading
It shimmered in the oven: double the fruit, delicate lattice work across the top, pattern broken once by carefully cut leaves, light glaze over the whole thing. She smiled, satisfied. Continue reading
It was a dark and stormy night, and the World War I Flying Ace, long since retired, having worked on his Great American Novel all morning and all afternoon, had finally reached the final page. Continue reading
Writing and Stuff by Chris Hall - Storyteller and Accidental Blogger
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Independent Publisher of Poetry and Prose
Chel Owens
Live music in St Paul Minnesota
pagan songs & tales
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my views.. my way
Challenging the barriers of the way we define reality
Stories and thoughts about being a queer girl geek in the 21st Century.
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