humor

Just-Jot-It-January (Jan 10-11)

/ Liz H / Leave a comment

Just Jot It JanuaryChocolate and Cosmopolitan

So, this month I’m doing a challenge to write a micro a day, for Just-Jot-It-January. Thanks to Linda G. Hill, bloggers in the “Play Group” have proposed a one-word prompt for each day. We share our responses back to Linda’s page, and are able to read what others come up with. I’ll post my responses every few days in bundles, to respect your in-boxes. But if a prompt tickles your imagination, please click its connecting link to read more!

Jan 11:  Cosmopolitan

Summer Dreams

Joshua hooked up the donkey to the wagon, checking that the traces were secured to the yoke and tongues. He patted the donkey’s neck and laid an affectionate arm across its withers while he waited for his pa. Scanning their small lands, the half-grown fields, the river that flowed past the hardwood forest, and big sky, his eyes rested again on their wagon. Continue reading →

Just-Jot-It-January (Jan 4-7)

/ Liz H / 5 Comments

Just Jot It JanuarySo, this month I’m doing a challenge to write a micro a day, for Just-Jot-It-January. Thanks to Linda G. Hill, bloggers in the “Play Group” have proposed a one-word prompt for each day. Today’s prompt, “TEMPEST” was my suggestion! We share our responses back to Linda’s page, and are able to read what others come up with. I’ll post my responses every few days in bundles, to respect your in-boxes. But if a prompt tickles your imagination, please click its connecting link to read more!

Jan 7:  Tempest

Eye of the Storm

It’d been one hell of a night. She came home from the evening shift to find the kitchen sink full, with dishes, as well as soapy water. This suggested an attempt had been made. Baby steps, she told herself, and opted to leave the mess for tomorrow. Continue reading →

Just-Jot-It-January (Jan 1-3)

/ Liz H / 4 Comments

Just Jot It JanuarySo, this month I’m doing a challenge to write a micro a day, for Just-Jot-It-January. Thanks to Linda G. Hill, bloggers in the “Play Group” have proposed a one-word prompt for each day. We share our responses back to Linda’s page, and are able to read what others come up with. I’ll post my responses every few days in bundles, to respect your in-boxes. But if a prompt tickles your imagination, please click its connecting link to read more!

Jan 2:  Gobbledygook

Hard Language of Love

“What are you saying to me?” Kathryn squeezed her hands against the sides of her face, and squinted at Polly.

Polly dug her hands deep into her jean front pockets and straightened her arms. The jeans slid down her hips just a half an inch. She looked out the dusty living room window. If she left now, grabbed the duffelbag she’d packed and left in the front hall closet, this conversation would end.

“I can’t understand how you could even consider such a bad idea.” Kathryn’s hands slid down and grabbed their opposite bicep. “I absolutely do not give you my blessing.” She pressed her arms against her chest and lifted her chin.

Polly raised her eyebrows, stretched a tight smile, and shrugged. She didn’t think her aunt would understand, for all the years they’d spent together after her parents had both passed away. But she felt she’d needed to tell Kathryn she was leaving, at the very least.

“You need to sit your fanny right down and explain to me why you won’t marry Teddy. I WAS planning on giving you this house – it’s been on my side of the family for generations – when I died, but you can just forget about THAT, Missy.”

Polly sighed, took the few steps to her aunt and kissed her on the cheek, and wrapped her arms around the woman. Kathryn remained frozen. Stiff. Exactly as Polly had known she would. “Nurses Cross the Continents needs me. I’m really good at this. It’s all I ever wanted.”

“You’re needed here, with me.” Kathryn pulled away. “Stop all this gobbledygook. I’ll make us tea.”

“I’ll write you,” Polly whispered as she backed to the closet door and her waiting bag.

“I won’t write back.”

“Now who’s talking gobbledygook?” chuckled Polly, as she pulled the front door closed behind her.

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2022)

To see others’ Jan 2 responses click the following:(https://lindaghill.com/2022/01/02/daily-prompt-jusjojan-the-2nd-2022/)

Jan 1:  Resolve (SoCS…oops, acrostic instead of stream of consciousness)

New Year’s Resolution

Red eyes, roiling tum,

Erica’s feeling all the rum.

She could’ve left early, at

Olde Lang Syne,

Looked to her best interest, and toed the line, but

Virtue’s no use when the party’s at home.

Eventually she won’t have to party alone.

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2022)

The Throne

/ Liz H / 11 Comments

It could have been a field of flowers, apricot sunrise honeying all. It could have been a berry patch, spread round with her the center, fingers damp with morning dew. It might’ve even been a dragon’s hoard, doubloons spilling from ruby-studded chalices, heavy pendants on worked, chain necklaces, diamond and emerald tiara resting on her head, proclaiming her queen of all she surveyed.  Continue reading →

So, this is happening…

/ Liz H / 3 Comments
Kittelson troll boy with a cauldron

Hugo, in the early days, as seen by Kittelson

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…”

[Please click here to continue]

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2021)