The challenge? Write a story in exactly 6 sentences based on Denise’s one word prompt: FUSE. Visit, comment, and write & post your own on SIX SENTENCE STORIES. The Café is open. Come as you are!
The pop was loud enough to wake me from my favorite dream: barefoot on a tropical moonlit deck in a shared deckchair with my current celebrity crush, the pop of the champagne cork shooting straight to regions unnamed but known well.
Continue reading
The challenge? Write a story in exactly 6 sentences based on Denise’s one word prompt: SHADOW. Visit, comment, and write & post your own on SIX SENTENCE STORIES. The Café is open. Come as you are!
Her work had only just begun, but the timeline was tight, tempers frayed, and there would be many hours before she could shut down the kitchen and rest her head. Continue reading
The prompts suggested by fellow bloggers and writers for Linda Hill’s Just-Jot-It January 2023 have been great sources of inspiration for revising my novel. We’re only half way through the month, but if you want to play (read others’ posts and/or write your own), here is where you go to join in the fun!
Today, I offer up my response to the prompt “DONUT,” which has nothing to do with my novel, but everything to do with beating the doldrums and trying new things. Hope you enjoy, and try something new today!
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Doing Donuts
“And after that, you told Kevin it was the last time?” Aribeth raised an eyebrow, quizzical, if not skeptical.
“I did, and I really meant it at the time,” Claudia gazed into her cup, swishing the tea leaves in search of possible patterns or prophetic truths. “But now, I’m not so sure.”
Their wooden chairs creaked in sympathy with their discomfort at revisiting the topic once again. Same local coffee & tea shop “Bean Me Up, Scottie”, quickly emptying of the morning rush, same low murmur of the regulars and staff. Claudia had her usual blueberry scone and English Breakfast tea, and Aribeth sat with a cooling Americano in a tall mug, no cream, no sugar. A gust of wind smacked against the picture window, and both jumped at the rattle of rain and sleet. They laughed; the icy rain apparently wanted to be part of their weekly ritual, too. Continue reading
To see Part 1, please click HERE.
Laurel cherished these times of connection with the ancestors, seeing and hearing in ways that she could not with her living family.
And yet, were her living family to follow her through the moisture-slimed tunnels and over the cold sand, down the granite hill that led to the underground pool, their senses would have been too much dulled by the buzzing, blooming confusion of the world above. Even by lantern’s glow and luminous rocks to mark their passage, they would be lost. Continue reading
She’d sailed by the stars, rounding islands of moons to arrive home. Joanna leaned into the helm, her final tack bringing her ship into bayside. Continue reading
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