He lay, entombed in mud and ice and darkness. He’d lain there so long that fine, tough filaments had grown over his limbs, the bridge of his nose, twining around the desiccated, corded column of his neck. He’d pull the blanket higher, cover the chilled vee of his pajama top…but no…too much of an effort. He’d gone too far away. Continue reading
nature
The Wild, Wild West
In TUFF Love, Carrot Ranch’s Charli Mills asked participants to revise an original western romance through a 99-59-9-99 word process with each step requiring a different craft twist. This event is an exercise of inspiration thru changing POV and final edit.
Original 99-word Draft: The Wild, Wild West
Anton shrugged out of his jacket, kicking off his boots,and with them, the urban muck of cow shit and cheap whiskey. Padding into the foothills in bare feet, he wrinkled his nose, drawing his lips back from canines that glinted moonlight. Continue reading
Honoring My Gothic Present
Norwegian Forest Cat
As part of my studies of Gothic fairy tales I offer up this quick write from our Carterhaugh class today today, all in the service of learning and expressing and using NaNoWriMo to focus in on what needs to be. As it is written, so mote it be…
Honoring My Gothic Present
I am the old woman you meet in the woods, dressed in shapeless, comfortable black, salt and pepper hair tucked under the hood of my green, woolen shawl as I follow the deer paths through the darker parts of the Wood. My boots are sturdy, laced over the ankle and meant for hiking, but if you look closely at my chicken legs, you’ll see that my boots are a deep burgundy color. Continue reading
Face at the Window (FlashNano Day 12)
Image: Chippewa Valley news in WI
It was strange, that face, so familiar, yet not quite what he’d grown accustomed to seeing night after night. The nose was long, almost touching the sharp chin. The mouth was a straight slash, except where it turned down at its edges. And lately, it had been turning down at its edges more often than not. Continue reading
Time Lost
Elbows on bent knees,
Hands dangle between, wings on a gentle-breezed bird.
Butt planted, chilly on Autumnal Earth.
Grass spent, golden and crackling
Under a sky sharp as blue porcelain.
Leaves flicker down from balding trees,
The memories still, cut deep.
Surviving the Storm
Pace the living room, arms hugging my chest. My growling belly needs comfort and protection, not for need of nourishment, but because it craves. Outside, snow drives sidewise, piling up outside the doors, gathering in dark window corners. Continue reading
Six Months Ago…
It’s been hot here in the Twin Cities.
Hot and humid.
Hot and humid and COVID.
So much so, that folks are divided on whether to wear masks or not, and what the actual distance of six feet looks like: whether distance is different in an enclosed space versus an open space, whether the current air filtration system is adequate to dispel the exhalations (the coronavirus soup), whether six feet is buffer enough when one is active, whether adding a drink or two to the mix makes for exponential risk… Continue reading
Growing Pains
Janina sat on the stone wall of the spring-fed pool. Behind her, her father’s castle clashed with loud music, shattering glass, and women’s high-pitched giggles. Her fourteenth birthday; she was sick of it all. Continue reading
