A place for short fiction and poetry while your coffee brews or your tea steeps
This gentle giant
Ended by corrupt police
Remember George Floyd.
Hope strained, smoke-stained streets
Shattered hearts, Minnesota
Patience, as we heal.
(This, on top of COVID. And those who gather together–prayers broken by opportunistic anarchists–risk a steeper next wave in the coming weeks.)
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2020)
We’d started with a couple buckets of ice blocks, and another couple with dried ice. These’d cool down the backyard while creating thick fog in our North Minneapolis back yard. Full sun, tropical temps; we’d lost a bar bet around nude sunbathing in a semi-public place. Continue reading “Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time”
“What have you got there?”
“Special order for Daniel, in Minnesota!”
“Minnesota is too general, see? The original says Minnetrista.”
“Where?”
I look for her in the living room. The Pendleton blanket is folded and laid neatly on the back of the overstuffed couch (my sister’s choice). Mother’s hand-crocheted throw rests gently on the seat of our childhood rocking chair (my choice). Dust motes swirl in the half-light of this cloudy November afternoon, whispering rumors of light snow mirroring their desultory dance. It’s plenty cold outside those triple-pane windows. Continue reading “Where Has Summer Gone?”
It couldn’t be un-seen. It was right there in front of me: the giant spaghetti bowl, the splash of Tante Lianna’s special sauce, meatballs rolling off the table and onto the floor, parmesan spread all over the dining room table, like sleet in a Minnesota mid-June storm.
Normal. But really…not so much.
And the noodles! Seemingly caught in mid-flight from the bowl, they lay heavy as nightcrawlers escaping a flooded sidewalk, the aftermath of the aforementioned storm, turned to punishing rain.
And Uncle Wilford, face down in the middle of it all.
He should have heeded the warning twinge in Tante Lianna’s trick knee. Continue reading “A Fish Tale from Lake Country”
It's All True, None of It's True. Don't Ask.
Words of a clarklike female
A writing blog by H.R.R. Gorman
To participate in the Ragtag Daily Prompt, create a Pingback to your post, or copy and paste the link to your post into the comments. And while you’re there, why not check out some of the other posts too!
Fiction Writing
Lance Greenfield - Night Writer
"Many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all. They choose to remain comfortably within the bounds of their own experience, never troubling to wonder how it would feel to have been born other than they are." -J.K. Rowling-
Original Writing Inspired by King, Poe, and The Twilight Zone
Walk On The Wild Side
Writing is Communication
