Source: Rob Swanson Photography
(Full Version)
She clambers atop the cardinal’s shoulders
Gently hooks soft knees over scarlet wings
Grasps the longest feathers of his crest
Solstice Story
fairy tale
Coming Home
She knew the caverns like the back of her hand at this point, and was able to navigate to the furthest reaches, into the darkest corners, without need of light. Continue reading
Runner Beans and Sky Dreams
Jack’s a nimble lad, head in the clouds, quick with a story of why This went unfinished, and That was never started. He’s a good boy, though, Continue reading
Four and Twenty
Source: “The Song of Sixpence” (1881), Walter Crane
The Hunter’s moon rose high as Henry knelt, pulling the pie out of the oven. Dear Liza’d been sent, holey bucket in hand, to gather autumn leaves for decoration. For their 154th anniversary, he’d sworn to make the pie on his own, Continue reading
A Careful Diet and Cautionary Tale
Sara’d planned a lifetime for this.
She’d done the research: observation, repeated sampling, clearly defined measures, notes on outliers, meteorological forecast, personality inventory (willingly cadged by some pig, from the father’s file cabinet. Some pig, indeed!). Continue reading
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
Honoring My Gothic Present
Norwegian Forest Cat
As part of my studies of Gothic fairy tales I offer up this quick write from our Carterhaugh class today today, all in the service of learning and expressing and using NaNoWriMo to focus in on what needs to be. As it is written, so mote it be…
Honoring My Gothic Present
I am the old woman you meet in the woods, dressed in shapeless, comfortable black, salt and pepper hair tucked under the hood of my green, woolen shawl as I follow the deer paths through the darker parts of the Wood. My boots are sturdy, laced over the ankle and meant for hiking, but if you look closely at my chicken legs, you’ll see that my boots are a deep burgundy color. Continue reading
