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Dead, But Not Gone
She felt the cool fall air brush across her face as she stepped off the bus onto the decrepit old sidewalk. The nagging adolescent voice of the tormenting Carrie Whetherford repeated in her head “step on a crack; break your mother’s back” as she looked down and noticed the spider web of tiny chasms beneath her feet. She hadn’t thought of Carrie since childhood; it was the cracks that brought her back. “Mama’s fuckin’ dead” she whispered to herself. “Are you happy?” The hydraulic whoosh behind her signaled the doors closing, yet she gave nary a notice. A tear rolled down her face and fell to the sidewalk, disappearing into the soil between two loosened pieces of concrete. She raised her head, took notice of her surroundings, and headed east down … Read entire article »
Filed under: Friday Flash
Pathogen by Emily Hagins
Some time last year I watched a documentary titled Zombie Girl about a thirteen-year-old girl from Texas who wrote, produced, and directed her own feature length zombie movie. Being that I saw this documentary at the onset of my own writing career, I was enthralled. This girl, Emily Hagins, was doing at thirteen what I was setting out to do in my own life at thirty-one. Using Emily as my inspiration, I made it a goal to start making short films from my stories. I’ve been researching how to write a screenplay, but haven’t had enough time to sit down yet to give it a go. Unfortunately, a lot of my stories will need to be edited to the point they will become unrecognizable because of the budgets I’m going to … Read entire article »
Filed under: Personal
I wrote this one to my childhood friend Sarah, who got me started with poetry in the first place. This is actually the very first poem I ever wrote. I wrote it for her during a visit that she and her mother made to our house. Two years later it was published in one of poetry.com’s books. Yes, I entered one of their $10,000 contests. Looking back, I wish I would have bought that book. Sorry to say I don’t even know the name of it, or I would track down a copy and buy it now.Sarah, this is for you. it seems like yesterdaywhen we playedin the rainand we wiped each others tearsfrom our eyes it seems like yesterdaywhen we sharedall our painand we told of all our fearswe hid inside it … Read entire article »
Filed under: I'm No Poe
Fiction Friday #170
This week’s Fiction Friday prompt: This week’s prompt is a retro prompt from August 29th, 2008 (#70!). It requires a little homework, but was a favourite the first time we ran it. Step 1. Go to a busy locale—a cafe or coffee shop would be easiest. Sit down with a notebook, and make sure you look busy, so people don’t know you’re listening. Now write down random soundbites of conversations.Try to get at least 10 lines or snippets. Step 2. Now use all ten in a cohesive scene of dialogue or as dialogue in a story Step 3. Leave a list of the lines plucked from real life at the end of the story for people to see. The story tells it all. I don’t think I need to … Read entire article »
Filed under: Fiction Friday
blue green emeralds sparkling beneath furrowed brow twinkling in the night Originally posted 2010-12-30 20:27:24. Republished by Blog Post Promoter … Read entire article »
Filed under: Haiku
Fiction Friday #134
“There, that should just about do it” he whispered under his breath as he worked placing the last piece of fresh cut sod on Martha Tinney’s grave. She had died a miserable old woman: no children of her own, widowed thirty years, and living off of Social Security tending to twenty-seven cats. Giving the earth a final pat down, he looked up at the headstone Martha Tinney 1923 – 2007 Old bitch, ain’t ya? “Evenin’, Joe!” The unexpected salutation startled him. He quickly turned on his knees to see Tony, the night watchman, waving at him from outside the rusty iron fence that surrounded the old cemetery. The nervous gravedigger smiled at the guard and raised a hand in a friendly hello. For the better part of ten years Joe had worked at Lawndale, … Read entire article »
Filed under: Fiction Friday
Finding Your Comfort
A couple of months ago I inherited a computer from my mother that sat unused in her garage for some time. I had helped her upgrade some time last year and there it sat, unloved and unused in the cold, dark garage. I had wondered if it would work and decided to bring it home after my last visit. My original plan for it was to set it up as a file server, intending to get all of my work files off of my laptop and onto it so I can access them remotely from anywhere on my property with the laptop. After all, what would happen if my laptop ever got stolen or lost? Sure I had a backup but still, I don’t want some of the stuff on … Read entire article »
Filed under: On Writing
K’s Story
The little brass bell rang out boldly as the door struck it. I had often wondered how something so small could produce such a sound; even at this moment it seemed louder than normal. Wiping my hands on my apron, I looked up from the fresh links of chorizo I was laying out on the display. The bright afternoon sun shining through the windows offered but a silhouette, a lonely figure shroud in black amid a sea of wondrous light. “Can I help you?” As she approached her features cleared and life filled her face. The chiseled lines of her jaw shone like a beacon, reminding me of a face I once knew. Her hair remained shroud in the blackness but I began to make out more: the wide eyes and pointed … Read entire article »
Filed under: Writings
Fiction Friday #159
This week’s Fiction Friday prompt: Include this in your story: “I wish he’d knock on my door instead……..” Jan Weathers is a voyeur. Her neighbor across the hall in 2D, Carrie – Jan never knew her last name – was a sultry twenty-three-year-old brunette that worked in Human Resources at the Serendipity building downtown. Quite often, men of great beauty would knock on Carrie’s door and because of Jan’s curious nature, a small camera with a side-shot lens had been installed above her own door, pointed directly at Carrie’s. Perhaps only a handful of gentleman callers wondered who it was that lived in 2E; what job they held; what social stature; what level of wealth they had to necessitate a camera pointing at their front door. What none of them ever realized … Read entire article »
Filed under: Fiction Friday
tick tock tick tock tick silently sweeping the face tick tock tick tock clock Originally posted 2010-12-04 20:21:32. Republished by Blog Post Promoter … Read entire article »
Filed under: Haiku
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