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. Most days, I post my responses every few days in bundles, but today’s single prompt – UNICORN — reminded me of a fun piece I wrote in late 2020, in the Before Times. And if this prompt tickles your imagination, please click the connecting link on the bottom of the post to read others’ responses!
During late 2020, the Rough Writers of Carrot Ranch were challenged to write a 99-word flash that combined Romance and Western; I guess in that sense, the task might classify as Speculative Fiction, with my addition of a magical unicorn. In order to get to the final flash, we all had to cycle through a series of steps/products that varied in number of words, point of view, tagline, and weird trope prop. That’s the technical, but read on for what turned out to be a revelation for me, and hopefully, entertaining for you: Romance of the Rails.
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2022)
To see others’ Jan 9 responses click the following:
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. 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
The Persistence of Memory – S. Dali
The attic is hot, dust motes knife-sharp and glittering in dim light through a window that wouldn’t budge in the humidity. She had to find that old photo, and prove her point. This rewriting of history to benefit Joseph had gone on far too long. Continue reading
The party was set to begin around dinner time, but revelers would be dropping in and out for the next four days and nights. Continue reading
I lift my paddle for a moment, hearing but not noting the drip of water that slides off its smooth, blond curve. My canoe slices through the morning cool, bisecting and self-healing the waters as I pass. Below the dark water, silent lake grass caresses sand and small, secret pebbles. Continue reading