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Just-Jot-It-January (Jan 13-14)

/ Liz H-H / Leave a comment

Just Jot It JanuarySo, 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. 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 14:  Freckled

Maybe Later

Snowfall, dense and quick

Buries itself in the thick, pale epidermis covering lawn,

Mounding ‘round walkways from yester-days’ storms.

Penetrating to dermis, yet temps too cold for subcutaneous damage. Continue reading →

Photo & Film on NewsLine Tonight

/ Liz H-H / 9 Comments

View of Grand CAnyon

Photo by Linnaea Mallette

Jack stood at the canyon’s edge and switched his phone to selfie mode. Too much face, not enough canyon. “All wrong,” he muttered. “I need maximum impressiveness.”

Phone in hand, he climbed the ledge, mindful of the low safety railing, and turned his back to the canyon. Still too much face. It was then that he noticed the tiny icons on the bottom of his screen. A choice between many figures, or one. He pressed many figures. “Wow! Way more canyon, just enough face.” Continue reading →

Attention/Protest

/ Liz H-H / 6 Comments

Homeless person in a thing blanket, in a windy blizzard

Source: Spencer Platt / Getty Images

Snowmageddon! Stay home if you don’t have to go out! Feels like double-digit negative temps! Treacherous conditions! Freezing drizzle! Mega-storm sweeping the continent, laying waste to everything in its path!

She switched off the tv, powered down her computer, snapped off background radio reports. She believed the footage: Continue reading →

Storm Windows

/ Liz H-H / 4 Comments

cowboy on mount silhouetteJared leaned against the bar, one boot heel hooked on the rail. His spurs lay next to his whiskey, silent as the glass was empty. Time to decide.

He could ride south to his father’s oil refinery. That way lay fine suits, easy money, easier women. His father’d left his family, but he might want to know his son. The resemblance? Startling , if his mother Lula’s cameo locket was any indication.  Continue reading →

Cutting Ties and Mudslides

/ Liz H-H / 18 Comments

Billy burst through the front door of the barbershop, sliding across the checkered floor and into an empty barber chair. He twirled twice and stopped.

Emil leaned back in the other chair, barber’s cape rustling over his sagging paunch.

Leon raised his shears from Emil’s thinning pate, “How can I help, Billy?” He didn’t really want to know, but he was a businessman.

“Dahlia’s gone and told me she wants another semester in Germany,” Billy buried his face in his hands. “It’s like she doesn’t want to get married!” Continue reading →