Bethany grabbed her purse, the picture of her four children, and the small box of confetti containing her shredded, many-times rejected work. Continue reading
Bethany gazed at the picture of her four children that sat on the edge of her soon-to-be vacated desk, smiling in relief; she hadn’t been able to give them the time and attention they needed, and had been leaning too much on Eloise and Andrew to wrangle the twins, Chuckie and Ducks. Continue reading
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!
January 18: Cycle
You’re huddling in a downtown vestibule, at the bitter edge of the neo-trendy Warehouse district, waiting for entry to an open-space office building for tech/engineering nerds. Like me. Like so many. Before quarantine and COVID and vaccination status became the second question in every off-the-record casual conversation. You’re hoping for a change in the weather, for a job, even a temporary job, to come around. Continue reading
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
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