Response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt, Candle.
All candles must obey one rule: never look down. Never. This is the story of the candle who did.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt, Silence.
I watched my teacher save someone in third grade. I did not know it then but I know now. I watched this with eyes that were just beginning to see invisible things like compassion and grace. My third-grader eyes saw friends, Barbies, pizza, roller skates with sparkly purple wheels, Beverly Cleary books and my fuzzy brown and white dog, Candy, licking the window when she saw me walking up the drive. Continue reading “The Screaming Boy”
Writing the Passionate character is exhilarating and scary and one of the funnest things about story telling. Readers understand passion; everyone is passionate about something or someone, even if they do not pursue the feeling. The yearning is there. It can connect them to your characters deeply and personally, whether they like them or not. Continue reading “The Passionate Character Between Excitement and Madness”
This response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt, Perplexed, is my stab at a little mad whimsy in honor of Roald Dahl’s 100th birthday yesterday.
The girl in the bed with a cat on her head hit the clock on the table and started this fable.
“SHUT UP!” she said, slapping the snooze, licking her lips, still tasting the booze. Continue reading “The Angry Clock”
Response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt, Melody.
Have you seen death snatch someone? It’s an experience that splits your world in half between now and afterlife, a secret seam that was there all along becomes visible. And frayed. You don’t look at the sky the same or feel the wind on your face the same and you try to remember things with a weird urgency, afraid you’ll forget what made them your person. Continue reading “Rescue”
In response to The Daily post’s writing prompt, Fierce.
She sat alone and happy in the damp grass, enjoying the stars and quiet meadow. She rolled onto her stomach and stretched out, grateful no babies were there to climb on her back and pull her hair. How precious, this time away from her hectic home brimming with siblings. Mom won’t even notice she’s gone, not until bath time, anyway. Continue reading “Moonlight Murder”
This is a response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: Learning.
The sea talks to me. This is what it says.
You can’t see what is beneath the surface, but come in anyway. Trust yourself to enjoy or endure what you find, maybe an oyster pearl or a jagged coral that slices your foot open. Joy or pain, you will swim back to shore. Continue reading “I’ll Teach You, Said the Sea to Me”
This is a response to The Daily Post’s prompt, Reach.
It’s hot in here. Where is here, exactly? Temporary or permanent? No answer. We’ll see. Will we?
“Get out of your head,” he says. “Stay present with me. It’s important.”
Oh. Yes. You know what’s important, right? You don’t know importance past your paycheck. Continue reading “Three Feet”
This is a response to The Daily Post’s prompt, Paint.
Palettes of eye shadow arranged on the vanity, opened and organized by color like a shimmery rainbow.
“Which one? Which one?”
Fingers and brush hover over the neon hues, so happy and bold. Hovering but knowing the courage is not there. Close the lid and sigh, again. Continue reading “The Reveal”
I saw a grandfather take a scolding today and love it.
Besides relaxing in the sun by the sea, I relish the beach for people watching. I roam the sand like readers do bookstores, looking for something interesting. I can’t explain what that might be aside from a curious tap on the soul when I find it.