A place for short fiction and poetry while your coffee brews or your tea steeps
“How long ago did you order that pizza?” Sheralynn tipped her wine glass to catch the last drop.
“Hmmm?” Rodney examined the hole in his tube sock, intent on covering up his big toe without using his hands. Continue reading “Romantic Evening in Quarantine”
Karoline felt the ache in her back radiate around to her front, the pressure increasing. She breathed deeply, willing her belly to unclench. Thinking herself safe to hike alone, she’d fled her family, their sole skill for processing grief in quarreling.
Unexpected, not unprecedented. Lucy opened the cabin door to a wall of snow. Stores, as well as spirits, were running low. Something had to liven the hard tack and rabbit stew, hairy root vegetables and pale wrinkled peas. Continue reading “Summer Memory in Winter”
She stands in the shadows of the hidden cove, pebbles clacking quietly under her bare feet, salt water lapping at her toes.
“What does she want?” the ocean wonders. “Is she here as supplicant, queen, or warrior?” Continue reading “A Desperate Balance”
She’d let the dandelions go unchecked too long. Creeping Charlie was on the march, cannons of blue and green vines poised, ready to trip the unwary.
Nevertheless, she persisted. There were city ordinances and fines to deal with. Continue reading “To the Victor Go…”
Holly sighed, dropping her sweaty forehead into her palm. It was the same words, the same argument that wasn’t an argument. She tugged her bangs and tried one more time. Continue reading “Boundaries”
Wind howls down the street, down the sidewalk and hill, so difficult to tackle on mornings like today. Icy shards lift, whip around and slap Laurel’s cheeks as she trudges against the wind. She swears, wishing she’d strapped ice grippers onto her hiking boots. The sun limns the hilltop. Continue reading “A Cold Walk With Janus”
The wildfire reared and roared, wrapping blistering arms around the rare bambinus aqueous. They steamed and chittered, unable to fully transition to their aquatic form and reach the river. Continue reading “Not on My Watch”
Words of a clarklike female
A writing blog by H.R.R. Gorman
To participate in the Ragtag Daily Prompt, create a Pingback to your post, or copy and paste the link to your post into the comments. And while you’re there, why not check out some of the other posts too!
Fiction Writing
Lance Greenfield - Night Writer
"Many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all. They choose to remain comfortably within the bounds of their own experience, never troubling to wonder how it would feel to have been born other than they are." -J.K. Rowling-
Original Writing Inspired by King, Poe, and The Twilight Zone
Walk On The Wild Side
Writing is Communication
