He waits on the bridge by the lagoon, staring down at the moon, a pale and wavering contrast in dark water. Further down the shore, a splash and pop, followed by crunching, draws his attention. A moose shakes its ears in greeting and turns back to its evening snack. Continue reading “He Waits”
“What d’you want me to do about it?”
“Can’t you absorb one more?” Continue reading “Portrait of Marion Gray”
Layers of wool and moisture-wicking long johns.
It’s a quick hike to the kitchen for more
Coffee hot soup the sweet pungency
Of Sumo oranges in a hand-turned bowl. Continue reading “Polar Vortex and Privilege”
He looked like death warmed over. That is, if death warmed over was a once-in-a-lifetime, luscious lothario. Lean and broad-shouldered at 6’3’’, he towered over my compact 5’3”. His eyes gleamed intense as the full moon above, his collar-length hair swept back in lines of seafoam white over ocean dark. Still good, even though a little worn around some edges and drooping a little in others; well worth the awkwardness of one more date. Continue reading “Friends With Benefits (or The Monster Inside)”
It was like a bad start to a very bad story. Continue reading “Takes You to the Edge”
Peter pulled boots over calves lengthened and strengthened by his transition from boy to youth, and seasoned by grief over his sister’s death. Four years ago she’d been found in the depths of the Dark Wood, her cat pressed against her cold belly, hissing at all who approached. Continue reading “The Journey Back”
Blast from the past, or “You HAD to encourage her, didn’t you!?”
Tracy Fabre and Con Chapman, from back in the Gather days: In a comment on his Gather post today, Con said he wanted to go into the business of providing writing prompts. I “hired” him (pro bono, of course) to suggest a prompt for this week. He said, “A priest, a rabbi and a lady snake charmer walk into a bar…”
Now run with it, folks. Continue reading “A priest, a rabbi and a lady snake charmer walk into a bar…”
(Synopsis in a 9-word flash): Waitress Helen saves the day, vanquishing slimy memory monster.
Shelly, in her booth, flips her hair back to catch a glimpse of kitchen staff, Josh. His honestly-earned farmer’s tan flashes below his white t-shirt as he lugs a tub of dishes to the kitchen. She parts her lips. He blushes and smiles. Continue reading “The Sun Shines on the Half-Moon Café”