Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word week 4=SNAP, week 5=CURSE. Read, write and come back for more SIX SENTENCE STORIES. (Link goes active Wed night).
Part 4
A wheel of cheese will always roll faster than a flat-bottomed bowl heavy with creamed herring, especially if the herring’s path is blocked by a platter heaped with cold sausages and a basket of heavy brown bread.
Continue readingJoin us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=NOD. Read, write and come back for more SIX SENTENCE STORIES.
For Part 1 of this fractaled fairy tale, please click <here>.
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Jack froze in fear and his brain began to churn out escape plans that included getting food for his mouse family, even as Sylvia hunched down, whiskers alert, shoulders hunched, hind end readying itself to pounce.
Continue readingJoin us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=FOIL. Read, write and come back for more SIX SENTENCE STORIES. (Link goes active Wed night).
His hands are tiny, true enough, but they’re as long and strong as needed to get the job done; it’s just past midnight, and Sylvia would be fast asleep and curled snug against Lorelai’s backside, thus no one to foil his plan.
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Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=WORD. Read, write and come back for more SIX SENTENCE STORIES. (Link goes active Wed night).
Sister Immolata looked over the top of her glasses and down her nose at Jack, sprawling insolently in the purposely uncomfortable hardwood chair with no armrests that she’d placed outside her office door, and said “I’ll be with you in a moment, Jack.”
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When the rains passed, and evening was well on its way (though the sun still burned white-hot in the firmament), Little Blue lifted her head from under the scrap of newsprint and sighed.
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© Ayr/Gray
Perhaps Rose could have been more wary on her weekly walk to Granny’s apartment, but she knew the way and felt confident in her red cape and hood. How could she go wrong? It had plenty of pockets! And she had her wooden spoon to fend off any attackers. Continue reading
© Ayr/Gray
It’s an inside job for sure.
I gaze out at the fat, fresh snow falling, fairy voices singing with bell-like giggles as winds gust and tumble them into one another. Not yet time for Spring cleaning. It’s only February. Yet an urgent inner tug tells me to create something to meet the pure snowfall half way. Continue reading
Writing and Stuff by Chris Hall - Storyteller and Accidental Blogger
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Stories and thoughts about being a queer girl geek in the 21st Century.
