Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=SIGNAL. Read, write and come back for more SIX SENTENCE STORIES. (Link goes active Wed night).
The steel fence was chilly on the meat of her forearms, so she rolled down her sleeves, not bothering to button the cuffs; the sun would come out from behind the clouds any time now.
Continue reading
© Ayr/Gray
Many thanks to Jenne Gray and C.E. Ayr for their photo prompt, THE UNICORN CHALLENGE. 11/01/2024). No more than 250 words in length.
It was slow going, but once they’d gotten through the heavy new growth at forest’s edge, the journeywoman relaxed in the saddle and let Horse take the lead following the glacial stream. The further along they went, the broader the tree trunks, and the greater the space between them. She’d not slept well the night before and the slow, undulating climb had lulled her into a dream. Or perhaps it was a vision? Continue reading
The challenge? Write a story in exactly 6 sentences based on Denise’s one word prompt: PANEL. Visit, comment, and write & perhaps post your own on SIX SENTENCE STORIES. The Café is open. Come as you are!
The sun set extra late and rose extra early in this northern clime, and the journeywoman rose, the normal energic exhilaration that accompanied such long summer days thin in the shadow and grief of her mother’s passing. Continue reading
The midsummer sun meant an extra long day, and she and Horse had easily traversed the rocky field, pausing at the liminal space where diamond-sharp stream burst through dense curtain of darkest forest; they would not enter at night. Continue reading
The rocky field lies still, cut open by glacial streams, edged by heavy forest. Further north, mountains beckon, tops occluded in weeping clouds. Continue reading
The challenge? Write a story in exactly 6 sentences based on Denise’s one word prompt: REMOTE. Visit, comment, and write & perhaps post your own on Six Sentence Stories !!
It’s not that the trip across the channel was long, but that it was terribly uncomfortable: waves rolling and resolving in a stomach-lurching corkscrew, aluminum hull juddering against whitecaps, a ceaseless and acidic breeze from somewhere else besides the majority of the big lake (because no matter the weather elsewhere, this channel was always like this); legend has it that fewer than three persons had ever crossed within a single season before the lake iced over, so does this make me number three, or four? Continue reading
She’d followed their path through the woods, noting how they easily spotted treasures in flora and fauna. Taking only what they needed, they left the rest for future wanderers. Kills were merciful, no parts wasted. One carried firm seeds of three sisters, the other dreamed with moonstones and what might be created from them. Continue reading
Writing and Stuff by Chris Hall - Storyteller and Accidental Blogger
A.I. Art and Poetry
Independent Publisher of Poetry and Prose
Chel Owens
Live music in St Paul Minnesota
pagan songs & tales
Poets Pub
Writing/Tales + Tails + Culture + Compassion
my views.. my way
Challenging the barriers of the way we define reality
Stories and thoughts about being a queer girl geek in the 21st Century.
Valley 