August 31, 2016 · 11:58 am
All good things must come to an end! Our summer of respite is over, and Rochelle has launched us back into new stories with this picture from Vijaya Sundaram. It took me to an idea you’ll see in my story, but the story itself comes from an article I read recently. I have linked the article at the end.
Meantime, real life is about to take a big change. Sebastian starts school next week, full time into Junior Kindergarten. On a day like today, when Dominic had me up through the night, the cat has thrown up twice and Sebastian decided he needed to make a wading pool on the kitchen floor, I can’t wait! But I’ll miss him too, of course.
A quick reminder, if anyone would like to sponsor us for our walk in aid of the wonderful Sick Kids Hospital, we would be grateful for whatever you can spare.
You think you know me, doncha? Small-town Southern upbringing; little league baseball and climbing the water tower with a bottle of hooch on the fourth of July. I’ve seen those movies too. There’s nothing new under the sun.
That there’s no headline either, is it? Alabama man quotes Bible verse.
Here’s what you don’t know. Alabama man didn’t play little league, he was in beauty pageants. Alabama man didn’t climb the water tower, because he knew if he did, he’d jump. If he wasn’t pushed.
Alabama man grew up Alabama girl. But that’s not new either; that predates the Bible.
The link is here.
August 24, 2016 · 9:07 am
Another week, another rerun. Enjoy!
August 17, 2016 · 8:29 am
(Sorry, I put the wrong link on the InLinkz. I’ve fixed it now!)
This week’s rerun is a double billing for me; I wrote two stories for this prompt back in the day. Both are below, although if you’re short for time, feel free to just choose one! Original posts are here and here.
Washed up. That’s what he’d called them. Washed up.
Not shiny and clean. But like a body on a beach: the flotsam of life. That’s what her husband, Tom, had meant when she told him her plans. It’s too late to travel the world, Janine. We’re washed up.
Janine squeezed sand between her toes and watched the sun setting far out to sea. She took a sip on her pina colada and smiled.
If she was washed up, she was a pebble. Yes, buffeted by the waves, and the sand, and the journey, but only to make her more beautiful.
“Glad to see you, son. Couldn’t stand another minute of that clap-trap. Stinks being the only one really alive around here. Sharp as sausages, that lot.”
Andy had a soft spot for the Colonel’s grumbling; it made a change from the cheerful repetitions of many of the residents.
“Takes a certain sort of chap to engage with a mind like mine. They haven’t a clue. Might as well be addressing a wall as some of them.”
Andy pushed a cushion further down the old man’s crumbling spine as he walked past. The Colonel carried on his monologue to the rosebush.
August 10, 2016 · 11:17 am
This one’s not so old, just a little over two years, but it offers you two links – the story I wrote for Adam Ickes’ prompt photo, and the older story that picture reminded me of.
August 3, 2016 · 11:18 am
Once again, a chance to rerun an old story with the Friday Fictioneers this week. This one was actually one of my favourites, although not one I suggest to Rochelle for a do-over. My story is (was) here. Your feedback is always welcome … although not as much as your babysitting assistance would be 😉