Category Archives: Writing

Transformations

Well, this is a fine kettle of fish or should I say bucket of tadpoles. I thought if I kissed the frog he would turn into a prince. Instead, what happened is I turned into a frog as well. What do I do now? My Frog Prince friend is no help at all. All he says is ‘ribbit.’ What will become of me? Am I going to spend the rest of my life dining on flies? Ugh! What can be done to reverse the spell? Wait a minute. If I kissed a frog and turned into a frog, if I kiss a human…

I have to admit that I was pretty grossed out when you kissed me. But now when I see what a lovely woman you are I have to say, ‘Will you marry me and be mine forever? Don’t make me wait. What is your answer?’

Ribbit!

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner is hosted by Roger Shipp.

Spin A Yarn

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Don’t want to sound full of myself, but I think I can turn a phrase pretty well. It’s just my ability to write fiction has dried up lately. My inspiration is uninspired. There is definitely a block, like a stone rolled in front of a tomb. I may need some strong tools to roll it away. Or maybe my muse caught the last train to parts unknown.

Sometimes I think I am finished with writing and blogging. But I have come to the realization that writing is my way to express myself. I do feel satisfied when I can write about things that are important to me. It might be a reaction to an article in the newspaper or the things that bring me joy. Maybe I just need to work a little harder at writing fiction to get those creative juices flowing again.

Stream of Consciousness Saturday, #SOCS, is hosted by Linda G Hill. The prompt for today is ‘yarn.’ Featured image ‘Spinning Class Samples’ by Doreen on Flickr.com

A Way With Words

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The prompt for today is to open a book to a random page, put your finger on it, and use that sentence to inspire your writing. I read this book a few years ago, ‘Ordinary Grace’ by William Kent Krueger and loved his writing. There are many wonderful sentences in this book. One I picked at random: ‘When my mother sang I almost believed in heaven.’

I have felt like that listening to a great opera singer like Pavarotti or Renee Fleming. or a classic rock song. When I hear them sing I am in heaven.

Stream of Consciousness Saturday, # SOCS, is hosted by Linda G Hill. Today’s prompt: “Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “open book, point, write.” Pick up the closest book to you when you sit down to write your post. Close your eyes, open the book, and place your finger on the page. Whatever word or phrase your finger lands on, write about it.”

Writing Nuttily

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Accommodatingly for my post there are absolutely a lot of adverbs that end with -ly, thousands according to an account I recently read. (But just because a word may end with a -ly does not mean it is always an adverb.) I looked at a list by morewords.com and found a few fabulously farfetched examples like adumbratively and acropetally. It could be ascertained that I have an affinity for ‘a’ words but I decided to start and stay at the beginning of a bewilderingly long list. You may wonder where I am going with this stream which is attempting adumbratively to tell you I don’t have the vaguest clue. And I may not have used adumbratively appropriately either, but it is fun using alliteration abundantly.

Stream of Consciousness Saturday is hosted by Linda G Hill. The prompt for today is ‘words that end in -ly.’

Featured image from ‘Botany of a living plant’ (1919) pg 240 ( example of acropetally, you have to look it up) via Internet Archive on Flickr.com

Binge Watching

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The trouble for me with all the streaming TV services is that they allow me to watch several episodes of a series in one sitting. I am drawn to mysteries and will end up watching the whole series of something at once, kind of like staying up into the wee hours reading a page turner. I want to know how it ends. The episodes are written with cliff hanger endings to keep you engaged. But if I binge watch all the episodes I run out of mysteries to watch too quickly.

Stream of Consciousness Saturday,#SOCS, is hosted by Linda G Hill. Today’s prompt is ‘television.’ Featured image of ‘Netflix at home’ by MoneyBlogNewz on Flickr.

Art

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It can be an art to find the branches and leaves on your family tree. Sometimes the records are right there, spelled out for you in black and white. The art comes in when you have to follow the subtle clues that you may find, like an occupation that is passed down and through the family. Some occupations in my acestry were farmers, carpenters, and iron workers. An unusual name can make it easier. Other times you can’t see the trees for the forest.

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Stream of Consciousness Saturday is hosted by Linda G Hill. Today’s prompt is ‘art.’

Featured image is ‘Olivenbäume’ by Vincent Van Gogh via wikimedia.org

Diamond Street

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Garrett always liked to joke about the name of the street. ” We live on Diamond Street,” he’d say ‘diamond’ in an exaggerated way as if it meant riches. “Say a few ‘Hail Marys’ and ‘Our fathers’ for me,” her Dad told her when she left for church. Rachel wasn’t thinking about prayers though. Halloween was coming up at the end of the week, and Halloween was always a big holiday in Eureka Valley.

“It’s because this section of San Francisco has the most children in all of the city, ” her Dad would say.

The ethnic makeup of the neighborhood was Irish with some Polish and Hispanic over the hill in The Mission. Rachel and her friends planned to cover as large a swath of it as possible with their big grocery bags to hold the loot.

Halloween celebrations started with a costume parade at school. Rachel and her little brother Ben could hardly eat dinner that night for all the excitement. As soon as the sun set they were off with parents trailing behind.

Later in the evening would be the parade on 19th Street hosted by Cliff’s Variety Store. Heading up the procession was a mechanical Tyrannosaurus Rex followed by a crowd of costumed kids.

” Will you hold my bag, Mom?” Rachel asked Nora.

“You watch yourself, girl, and don’t get trampled in that crowd. Be sure to hold onto your brother.”

“I’ll be fine. Ben’s holding my hand and Jack is here, too.”

Nora felt that familiar chill. She knew that kids can have an imaginary playmate, but a ghost?

Jack stood next to Rachel. “Tonight is when the spirits can cross over and walk the earth,” he whispered to Rachel in a lilting accent.

“There aren’t any spirits, except you, just lots of kids dressed up in costumes.”

Jack wasn’t so sure about that. A witch standing next to the Frankenstein monster looked like that mean old landlady he had back in Dublin.

” Oh, it’s herself all right.”

“What are you muttering about, Jack? You’re spoilin’ all the fun.”

“Don’t worry Rachie, I’ll keep a look out for you and Bennie.”

In all the excitement Rachel had almost forgotten about her brother who held tightly to her other hand.

“Who ya talkin’ to, Rachie?”

“Oh, nobody. Just talkin’ to myself, Bennie,” Rachel answered as she shot a cool glance at Jack.

“Don’t let go of my hand, Bennie.”

” Don’t worry, I won’t. I don’t like the way that witch is lookin’ at me! She’s creepy with that green goo dripping out of her mouth!”

Rachel shot a wary glance at the witch and squeezed her eyes shut to will her away. When she opened her eyes the ugly crone was gone.

” See that, Jack, you can’t let your imagination run away with you.”

Jack was skeptical, but he couldn’t help smiling at Rachel.

All the children marched behind the dinosaur as the proud parents looked on. Rachel smiled and waved at her mom. That’s when she noticed the ugly witch standing behind Nora and froze.

“What’s a matter, Rachie? Why you stoppin’?” whined Bennie. Rachel looked down at her little brother, and when she glanced back at the crowd, the witch had disappeared.

Jack was wondering why Rachel had stood still as a statue as well. “What’s wrong, Rach?”

” Nothing’s wrong. It’s just all your talk about evil spirits. It’s makin’ me see things!”

But the vision left Rachel with a bad feeling the rest of the evening. She hugged her mom extra hard when she got ready for bed.

” What’s troubling you, girl? You’ve been jumpy as an alley cat ever since we got home.”

“Do you believe evil spirits walk the earth on Halloween, Mom?”

“Course not! And who’s been filling your head with all that nonsense?”

“It’s just something Jack told me.”

“I think you been eating too many sweets. I am putting that candy away, and tomorrow we can donate it to the Nursing Home.”

” Okay, Mom, but save a little of it for Bennie and me, please!”

“Get to sleep now and sweet dreams, dear girl.”

Rachel quickly fell into a deep sleep, but it was not sweet.

“So you don’t believe in spirits,” the old woman cackled. Rachel found herself in a cold, dark cave with the old witch who was binding her with a scratchy rope.

” Who are you and why are you doing this?” Rachel cried.

” None of your nevermind, drink this! ” hissed the hag. I am going to switch you with my little changling, and your mam with never know the difference.”

” She will too! ” sputtered Rachel as the bitter liquid was forced down her throat. ” My mom would know me from your rotten little changling any day!”

“Watch your lip, girlie, or you might just lose it!” screeched the witch.

A small twisted creature made its way across the cave toward them leaving a slimy trail in its wake. As it got closer, Rachel could hear a chittering sound coming from its beak.

“What’s that!” she screamed.

“That’s my little darlin’. She’s been waitin’ for me to bring her a little girl like you so she can cross back into the world,” the old witch replied in a gentle, lilting tone.

Rachel was becoming drowsy but fought to keep her eyes open. She knew if she gave in and fell asleep again the witch would do her worst.

***********************************************************************

Rachel woke with a start, bolting straight up in bed, and pinching her arms to make sure she was really herself.

“What the heck are you doin’, Rachie? ” Bennie asked from the doorway.

” Oh, I had a bad dream, that’s all, Bennie.”

“You’re as white as a sheet!” Jack said as he quickly crossed the room.

” I wish everybody would quit making a fuss!” Rachel fumed.

“Who’s everybody?” asked Bennie.

“Oh, none of your nevermind!” Rachel replied.

“Why you talkin’ so funny?”

” I ain’t talkin’ funny!” she said as a little chitter escaped her lips.

WEP October 2018 Challenge #WEPFF-Write…Edit…Publish October Challenge-Deja Vu or Voodoo hosted by Denise, Renee, Olga, and Nilanjana. Featured image of ‘spooky portrait’ via pxhere.com

Word count: Abt. 1002

WEP- Change Of Heart

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HEART SF ♥

It all happened so fast like an ocean wave pulling her out to sea, the wedding in Dublin and the birth of their son, then the voyage across the ocean to a new country. So much hope about what the future would bring. There had not been much to look forward to back in their home town. The oldest son had inherited the farm. Nothing to do but look for the future far away from home in the land of opportunity, America.

Norah missed her sisters and their easy chatter as they all worked in the field. Two of her youngest sisters had already emigrated to Canada, and just one sister and brother remained on the family farm.

“We’ve all been washed out with the tide, carried to distant shores, and now just your letters make me feel like home,” Norah whispered as she put away the latest letter from her sister Mary Ann.

Norah was busy settling into her new home and expecting her second child in a few weeks time. She was grateful to have a roof over her head and that her husband had steady employment even though they lived in a flat. They scrimped and saved to buy a house. They took in boarders, new immigrants from the old country whose lilting speech pulled at her heart. Norah and Garrett were happy to help the newcomers get on their feet. Norah was especially fond of Jack, a young single man who reminded her of her brother. He always had a smile and was quick to laugh. There were jolly parties with fiddlers playing jigs and reels. They didn’t have much in material things, but their music and friends kept their spirits strong.

“When I hear the fiddlers play I could almost believe I am still home in Tipperary,” Norah spoke wistfully after the party ended.

“This is my home now,” replied her husband.

She knew he missed the old country and the horses he used to care for on the farm. Norah bit her lip hard and kept silent. She didn’t want him to think she was unhappy. He was working so hard to make a home for them.

“I do love the evenings when the fog rolls in. It makes me want to cuddle up with you.”

Garrett smiled at his young wife as they walked back to their bedroom, their borders already asleep for the night. It was in the early hours of the next morning when the cataclysm struck. A horrible rumbling and then a violent shaking threw them from their bed. They rushed out of the flat with the rest of the occupants. The air was filled with screaming and the sickening sound of buildings collapsing, with wooden planks and bricks falling into the street. They stood dazed on the sidewalk.

“We better get what we can out of the building before it collapses,” Jack shouted. They quickly ran a relay in and out taking what they could as the building groaned and creaked ominously. They hadn’t had a chance to save much but their lives.

The army moved into the city at the request of the mayor to keep order, provide first aid, and prevent looting. Tent camps were set up in public parks for the survivors who found themselves homeless. People walked around in stunned silence while a child wailed for his mother.

The buildings weren’t the only things broken by the quake. Water mains underground ruptured. Stunned residents salvaged whatever belongings they could, treated the injured, and counted the dead. The moans and cries of those trapped in the rubble would haunt them for years. Their young border, Jack, was killed when a wall collapsed on top of him as he tried to rescue a child.

A woman made breakfast for her family unaware of the broken chimney that caused a fire that burned down her house and half the city. The broken water mains prevented water from reaching the hoses of the firemen. People would later call it ‘the ham and eggs fire.’

What Norah and Garrett couldn’t salvage was burned to ash. They joined the other displaced people in bread lines and tent cities that were set up in public parks. It was the next night that Norah gave birth in one of those tents to a daughter, Rachel. Some of the women assisted in the delivery. An older woman told Norah, “Your little girl baby will have special powers because she was born at night. She will be able to see the dead.”

A chill ran through Norah as she heard the prediction, but she shook it off saying, “That’s old country superstition. We left that behind when we came to our new home.”

“I’m sorry I brought you to this place, Norah,” Garrett whispered as he watched his wife and new baby sleep. His young son Patrick was curled up against his mother’s back.

Many left The City, but the ones who remained were a hearty, optimistic lot, not ready to give up so quickly. Norah and Garrett were counted among those brave ones.

“It all seems like so long ago now,” Norah said as she closed the door to their new house on Eureka Street. “All the bad times are behind us.” Norah walked into the kitchen to finish supper for her little family while Rachel played with her toys on the floor. Patrick had started school, and in a while, they would walk down the block to pick him up. Norah was stirring the stew when she heard her little daughter muttering. She looked over to see Rachel was staring at a kitchen chair and talking as if someone was sitting there.

“Do you want to hold my dolly, Jack?”

WEP Write…Edit…Publish August 2018 Challenge Change of Heart is hosted by Denise Covey, Nilanjana Bose, and Olga Godim.

Word count: 960

Full Critique

Featured image: ‘San Francisco before the earthquake’ ( unknown author) via wikimedia.org

Her Unraveling

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She felt like her life was falling apart. She had always prided herself on how in command of any situation she was. All was carefully planned and executed. It all started to unravel on that day. She would never forget it. Her company had a new CEO who was 20 years her junior. Conner Cassidy had big plans for shaking up the status quo with the latest business practices. Out with the old and in with the new. It turned out the old included her, Amanda Adams.

Amanda woke up with a start as the trash truck rumbled by her house. She usually would have been up and out much earlier but that was when she had a job. Now one day ran into another and a regular schedule escaped her. As her head cleared it took her a few minutes to realize where she was. She struggled to focus her eyes on the bedside clock.

“Ten o’clock! I better get going. I have the budget meeting in a half an hour.” That’s when she remembered there was no meeting. She didn’t work there anymore. Amanda dragged herself up and into the kitchen. She still needed her morning coffee. Some things never changed. As she sipped the strong brew she found herself ruminating on recent events.

” After devoting all those years to that company I’m thrown out without any apology or thanks for all my efforts. I hope they’re happy with that inexperienced new grad who replaced me.” Amanda recalled how Conner had lit up when Carey came in the room, his eyes following her every move.

“This is getting me nowhere. I’ve got to stop thinking about it.”

Amanda had been given a severance package and realized she was luckier than some of her friends who had been retired from their jobs before they were ready. She just felt at such a loss.

“What do I do now? I wasn’t ready to stop working this soon. I hoped to work for at least 10 more years. I’ve got to try to move on but I don’t want to work for minimum wage at a job I hate.” She was lucky she had the severance but would have to cut back on expenses. Her house was on the market and she hoped to find a smaller place in a less expensive area. In the meantime, she needed to get out of the house. She signed up for a class at the local community college. It was a class on Film Noir. She had seen it listed in the college catalog before but never felt she had the time or energy when she was working. Now she had the time, plenty of time.

Her eyes scanned the room on the first night of class. Except for a few younger ones, most of her classmates were her age. The instructor was introducing the films they would be covering. As he spoke she found her mind wandering. She had seen many of the films long ago. They were before her time but she had always liked those old black and white films. One film on the list stood out in her mind. It was called ‘Dial M for Murder,’ about a man plotting his wealthy wife’s death so that he will inherit her money.

Amanda found herself enjoying the class and was an eager participant in the group discussions. She enjoyed the film screenings put on by the instructor. She and her classmates had fun dressing up in the styles that were depicted in the films.

The last film of the series was to be Amanda’s favorite ‘Dial M for Murder.’ Her blonde hair made her a perfect fit to match the lead character, Margot, who was played by Grace Kelly. The class had a great time at the party after that last screening. Amanda knew she would miss everyone after it was over. She did write down a few of her classmate’s numbers and hoped they would connect again soon.

It was a warm evening and she left the French doors open. She was getting ready for bed when she heard the telephone ring. She glanced at the bedside clock and saw it was after 11. Who could be calling at this time of night? She walked into the living room to answer the phone when he stepped out from behind the French door curtains.

This Flash Fiction is part of the WEP Write…Edit…Publish June 2018 Challenge ‘Unraveled Yarn,’ hosted by Denise Covey, Yolanda Renée, Nilanjana Bose, and Olga Godim.

Word count: 730

Full Critique

***The last part of the story follows from the plot of ‘Dial M for Murder.’ I thought it was fun to work it into my story. Featured image of Retirement Tiara by Steven Depolo on Wikimedia.org

Love Lost And Found

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MorgueFile April 1408991814e81x2

Annie enjoyed walking with her dog in the meadow that surrounded her property. It had been a warm day but now dark clouds were blowing in with the wind.

“We better get inside pretty soon Rusty. It looks like the weather may be changing.”

Annie was about to attach his leash when the dog’s ears rose to a sound only he could hear and he bolted off. Annie knew she would not be able to run after him but walked as fast as she could manage in the direction he had gone calling out to him. She found him sitting near the old car.

“What are you doing boy? It’s just an old wreck of a car.”

Rusty stayed with his eyes fixed on the window. As Annie stood looking at the car she was reminded of Jack. Her father never liked him. They had spent a lot of time in his old car making love and planning for the future. They planned to marry after Jack returned from the Army. He never made it back. She was looking at the window when she saw him.

“Jack?”

They found her body near the car. The doctor said her heart must have failed.

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner Week #19-2018 is hosted by Roger Shipp.

Word count: 202