Consequences – Friday Fictioneers

Happy Hump Day!  As you know, we Friday Fictioneers get confused about days, so many (most) of us post on Wednesday. Whatcha gonna do but go with the crowd?  Only time I’m more of a follower…  So without further ado, let us thank Susan Eames for the use of her picture and Rochelle Wisoff(no e) Fields for hosting this party every week without fail.  Care to join? Click on the frog and add your 100-word story’s link!

©Susan Eames

Cartoon Lame Injured Frog with Crutches #55960 by Ron Leishman

Click me!

 

Jules!  What have you done to yourself?

Broke my ankle.

Yeah, can see that. How the heck did you manage that one?

It’s not coz I’m old and frail!

Course not.

And it couldn’t possibly be because I had my arms full of groceries and couldn’t see the step right in front of me that I missed completely.

Right. And nothing to do with being lazy and not wanting to do more than one trip from car to house, too

Right. Nothing at all to do with that!

So. How long with the boot?

Three months.

Oh joy…

…oh bliss.

Glorious Autumn

dVerse spoke to me today!  Kim from Writing in Norfolk is hosting and today’s theme is:  Haibun Monday: Being But Human – what is it she is asking? This:   to write about a time when you last watched stars, a storm, the sea, an animal, or something else in nature that left you with a sense of wonder or awe. Aim to write no more than three tight paragraphs, followed by a traditional haiku that includes reference to a season. Hmmm. Here goes:

 

 

As I walk along in an autumn woods with no sounds save the crunch of dried leaves beneath my feet, the wind rustling the leaves above me and maybe the occasional trill of a bird I find my heart slowing, my breath deepening, my muscles relaxing and my mind freeing itself from whatever worries I might have.  As this happens, I become more aware of my surroundings:  I marvel at the velvety, almost neon green moss growing on fallen trees.  I delight in the different kinds of fungi growing here and there:  white, bright yellow, striped greys, polka-dotted red.  I watch and smile at the antics of squirrels and chipmunks darting here and there, looking for nuts they will hide away for the winter.  The sky is a shade of blue not seen the rest of the year, which makes the yellows and reds and oranges pop all the more.  I am blessed to live through this season every year.

Colours brilliant
Fall into crispy ground
Joy is found in death

Mount Rushmore of Music – Female Edition

I love how idly chatting about something sparks a discussion which then leads to a potential post (or more).  A year or so ago, this discussion took place.  We talked about how we would post it.  Then we forgot about it.  We would bring it up now and again, here and there, just in passing. Talk about our idea, then move on to something else.  This week, something clicked and our talk is turning into action. We are finally making it happen.  Who am I talking about?  Marc (affectionately called B, by me) over at Sorryless and me.  What am I talking about, you ask?  Our personal idea of a Mount Rushmore of musicians.  Marc’s intro can be found here.

We decided to split them between us:  he, taking the men; me, the women.  This is no easy task and of course you understand that our choices are completely subjective. Your top four and my top four are surely not going to be the same and that’s more than all right.  But how to go about it?  How to narrow down our choices?  There had to be some sort of criteria, otherwise, we’d have the likes of Mozart or Memphis Minnie mixed in with today’s artists.  How the hell do you bring it down to four?

This is what we decided.

  1.  Only artists that have been productive within the last fifty years.  That still leaves us with a ridiculous list.
  2.  They had to be the writers of their own (and possibly others’) songs.  That eliminates a slew of fantastic performers.
  3.  They need to have been (or still are) an influence – not limited to us fans but to other artists, as well
  4.  They need to have stage presence – and by this, it could be on a huge stage or a small venue but they have that ‘it’ factor.

Who are the artists who’ve written the songs that put them atop this esteemed Mount?

 

 

Weekend Writing Prompt #184 – Paradox

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in the comments and that is right here.  Remembering the less than fun part of dating, back when I bothered.

 

 

 

Why is it that the more aloof and unresponsive you are,
the more they pursue?

 

And from the moment you show interest and eagerness
you are left hanging, wondering what the hell just happened

 

This is an absurd paradox, a contradiction in words and actions
when from their lips come “I want you, I desire you”
while their demeanour, if not hands, push you away

 

It’s a cruel and useless game

You Are Not Alone – Friday Fictioneers

How to go from nuthin’ to somethin’ in a few minutes.  This here photo by Sarah Potter had me going in so many directions, I had me some trouble choosin’ one.  So I played my turn at WWF with DK (for once, I’m ahead), came back here and wouldn’t ya know? It just happened.  I tells ya, ya gotta try this here challenge. Sure do get your ‘magination going sometimes. Rochelle is the bestest hostess with the mostest.  G’head, click on the frog below to play along.

Awesome shadow of a frog tattoo | Tattoos, Frog tattoos, Cute tattoos

Click me!

Th’other day, Sally was telling me that she feels a presence. She’s convinced it’s her grandma, looking out for her.  I think it’s a whole lotta hogwash but then, I never did believe in all that spirit stuff anyhow. But hey, if it works for her and she’s happy with having some kinda shadow following her around? Then, who am I to talk, right? To each his own, I say. Whatever works, yanno? I ain’t here to judge no one on their beliefs. If it gives them comfort, that’s cool.

Sure do wish I felt like I had one, though.

 

Weekend Writing Prompt #183 – Wrangle

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in the comments.

Another trip down memory lane.  It took me almost a year-and-a-half to have my family over so I could share with them what I had learned with Cook in Tuscany in September 2016 – the full account of the soirée can be found here but these 33 words somehow triggered, though have nothing to do with at all!  Funny how the muse works.

Wrangled up the necessary ingredients

To make a Tuscan feast to be shared

Invitations sent and accepted

A fun time, expected

With great company, delicious food, divine wine

And some friendly wrangling, unavoidable

 

 

Bonding – Crimson’s Creative Challenge #105

Crimson Creative Challenge has brought me down memory lane.  I could not help but kinda go over the 150 – but not by too much. I apologise profusely, but I know Crispina is most forgiving.

Remember Father-Child day in kindergarten, Dad?  What a great day that was. I had you all to myself – no brother, no Mom – just us. Well, and the rest of the class.  You were so good with tools and were able to make anything:  my bed, my dresser, all sorts of stuff in the house.  You were the best builder-dad in the class!  You helped me cut the pieces and put them together.  You even made me laugh when I hit my finger with the hammer! In the end, we had such a nice bird feeder.  And you know what?  I still have it.  It’s on top of the bureau you made for me.  Mom almost threw it out!  Boy, did I have a fit. Then I felt bad because she felt bad that I yelled at her.  She did not realise what it meant to me.

Funny how seeing this little house in the woods brought it all back. What I wouldn’t give to build anything with you again.

All About Balance – Friday Fictioneers

Funny thing happened to me.  Almost one month ago, I did a CCC challenge and used this here photo as part of my response, along with a little story.  Here we are today, and Rochelle has pilfered graciously asked to use this photo for  this week’s FF.  How could I not do a continuation of my first story?  Well, yes, I didn’t have to but why not?  I like to think this stands alone (as it’s supposed to) but hey, if you desire, you can read part one (that I didn’t know would be part one) right here. And if you have an even better story to create using this image, then, please, by all means, leave your link with the frogs below.

Amazon.com : Snoogg 454dgs Happy Hour Frogs Garden Statue, Red : Garden & Outdoor

Click us!

 

This is amazing.  I should not have doubted you.

You really must learn to trust me and have fun.

It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just feel sometimes you are too fanciful.

Too fanciful?  Seriously?  And where are we now?

Okay, okay.  Don’t get your knickers in a knot. You were right. This place is magical.  And warm and welcoming. And what is that delicious scent?

I believe that delicious scent is the wonderful dinner you are going to buy me.

Looks like you have a decidedly realistic streak, as well.

All about balance. Shall we find a table?

Expectations

dVerse Prosery time! Okay, okay, it was yesterday but still.  And Merril is hosting so it is very hard to resist 😉  This time, our 144 story must include the phrase:

“there is nothing behind the wall
except a space where the wind whistles”
from “Drawings By Children” by Lisel Mueller

So, I did. And here it is 🙂

She read the advertisement, considered it, then set it back down, thinking it was not realistic.  These things are never what they seem. The offer was seductive, though.  She found herself perusing it again and again, longingly.  Should she?  Why shouldn’t she?  What did she have to lose? The more the ideas swirled in her head, the more obsessed she became.  She prepared, she dreamed, she couldn’t help but get excited even as she tried to tamp it down a notch. Don’t build it up too much, silly girl! Expectations beget disappointments.  Much better to wait and see.

The day finally came!  She arrived, only to see there is nothing behind the wall except a space where the wind whistles.  What cruel trick was this?  How had she been so duped? False advertising at its best.  Why don’t you ever listen to your gut?

Princess Blue Holly vs Etamilc Egnahc

A very exciting part two to the story!

Art Gowns

It was a very serious situation!

The moment Rene Rosso felt Rebecca Budd’s estranged & frantic energy, she instinctively morphed into Princess Blue Holly.

Princess Blue Holly looked into her Tangle-Heart. The signal was weak.

Her Tangle-Heart managed to connect via the moon to a magic orb from Dale’s Peach tree.

It led Blue Holly to a wind farm outside of Chicago. It was here she found the Art Gowns Models planted firmly into the good earth.

She also found the tornado that had captured them. It was Etamilc Egnahc.  Poor thing had once been Blue Holly’s friend; a gentle, soothing summer breeze. Then climate change turned her into a PBH nemesis.

“Blue Holly, welcome to my Art Gowns Models Plantation! Seems whenever the Art Gowns Models are in jeopardy, you come to the rescue. Well, you’re too late! They’re already growing roots, and once they go to seed…

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