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
(To access the beginning of this 6-part series, please visit here: Solitude’s End)
Time Will Tell
Flora never met the little forest man in person, after all, although the storm had passed through over night, and the day that followed was sunny and unusually warm for the time of year. But she had seen his tiny footprints in the morning dew on the cement slab of the sheltered porch. Continue reading
“What is all this stuff?” George leaned into the workroom, one hand on the door frame, afraid to step beyond the door sill and into what looked to him like an explosion in a junk yard. Continue reading
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)