Just-Jot-It-January (Jan 9-Unicorn)

 

 

Just Jot It January

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:

(https://lindaghill.com/2022/01/09/daily-prompt-jusjojan-the-9th-2022/)

Bonus Points

Wings around a heart with haloHe scanned her personal ad quickly before carefully composing his response and invitation; a woman with Suzy’s level of sophistication, stunning beauty, and sparkling sense of humor would not be on that dating site for very long, before she’d be wooed and snatched up by a bevy of beautiful boys. Continue reading

Dear John

fountain pen

“What instrument shall I use, and what medium to convey my deepest and most honest wishes?”  Annalisa, one hand holding her elbow, the other holding her chin, scanned the open drawer filled with seven different kinds of pens (one with eight different nibs for calligraphy), a half dozen different colored inks, brushes of many sizes and an uncounted number of acrylic paints (some rolled tight into tiny secret snails of color, others fat and shiny like a slug that didn’t give a shit), a box of 50-count soft pastels (none broken, but all tested and of different lengths…a lovely diversity), and no markers of any kind as she detested them. Continue reading

Who Wrote the Book of Love, Again?

The book lay before him, splayed open and heavy, the archaic lettering spidery and so faded in places, the necessary ingredients for the desperately desired results were difficult to read and translate in the tallow candle’s light. Up above him the shadowed shelf contained what he hoped was the correct final ingredient; if he’d read the spell book correctly, the results would be abiding love, but if he had not, the potion would deliver never-ending death. Continue reading