Joseph, light-headed, his legs shaking, peered down the ruined stairway that zigzagged down the cliff-side from the haunted mansion to the entrance to the Speakeasy tunnels where the Bethany had left her jeep.
“I sure could use a Scooby Snack about now,” he mumbled, adding, “I’m not so used to moving around on terra firma.” Continue reading
Hugo, as a young one, as seen by Kittelson
Hugo was unhappy. He’d been left in the tree swing too long. The swing, his favorite, hung from a branch of the biggest Douglas fir on Heffinger Mountain. A snack, a nap, a swing in the sack, and he’d be a happy boy all day. Continue reading
Hugo, in the early days, as seen by Kittelson
I have the great pleasure of being allowed to sit in the Author’s Chair in the Saddle Up Saloon over at the Carrot Ranch. It’s headquartered somewhere in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and around the world, where Rough Writers play with weekly prompts, poetry challenges, and the occasional Online Karaoke. Cowpoke or not, all are welcome to play and/or read.
My time in this week’s Author’s Chair is a bit of dark humor about a hungry giant, some carelessly spunky spelunkers, and the townsfolk nestled in the valley below (based on a Six Sentence Story that like Hugo, got a bit larger). Here’s an excerpt to start, or go on ahead and belly right up to the bar at the Saloon for the full text, and an audio of me reading the tale. Once upon a time:
Giant Problem Solved by Liz Husebye Hartmann
(Trigger alert: Not a tale for the wee ones)
Hugo’s belly pangs rumbled down the darkening mountainside above Heffinger Hollow. He was sorely tempted to nibble on a half-cooked morsel or two of the spunky spelunkers that frequented Carbuncle Caverns. This particular group of spelunkers had surprised the village by sneaking in to the Carbuncle and setting out to explore without a guide. They’d zigged when they should have zagged on that seventh leg of the descent, and had fallen deep into the bowels of the lowest cavern of Carbuncle.
This had proved deadly for them, but put their corpses within easy reach of Hugo…
But a bit of history, first…”
[Please click here to continue]
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2021)
He stuck his head in the refrigerator, resting his arm along the damp, dusty edge of the door. Plucking at the ruffles of insulation, he surveyed the interior. It certainly felt cooler in there than it did in his apartment. Continue reading
“So, you think if I hop there, launch to the next one over, and make that final leap, it’ll take me across the water, fast enough and close enough to be safe?” Continue reading
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