Nitia drew the back of her hand across her damp forehead and rested her palm on the front of her hip as she surveyed the basement playroom. Continue reading
child
Brand New Start
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 “Filter”, and here’s where you join the party: Six Sentence Stories
She set the timer on the tea for three minutes and considered the slow colorful cloud that drifted its way to the bottom of her clear glass mug. She had a need for a healing raspberry tea after that visit to the emperor’s office, with her four-year-old son, Toby, in tow. Continue reading
Fertile Northern Lights
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
Oreos and Milk Save the Day!
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
Storm Windows
Jared leaned against the bar, one boot heel hooked on the rail. His spurs lay next to his whiskey, silent as the glass was empty. Time to decide.
He could ride south to his father’s oil refinery. That way lay fine suits, easy money, easier women. His father’d left his family, but he might want to know his son. The resemblance? Startling , if his mother Lula’s cameo locket was any indication. Continue reading
Scraps From the Past
She picks up a marble, rolling and squeezing it in her palm at a searing memory of betrayal. Continue reading
Twisted Kid Lit
The hare pulled a watch from his pocket, stretching it as far as the fob allowed.
“Drat!” he wheezed, at the lateness of the hour and the inconvenience of having once again misplaced his pince-nez. Where in the world was that girl? Continue reading
Valley of the Trolls 