"We can't just let this go on. She's our friend." Emily adjusted her purse strap as she spoke. She was not one to let things stay out of place. ( Read more... )

Hello again. Haven't been here in a few weeks or so, kinda missed it.
I'm not quite sure if I did the prompt response right. Anyway. Here it is.
Word Count: 490

( I'd make pens too, if I could. )

This is my response to the Friday Prose Prompt. All critiques are welcomed.


( The truth was simple... )

When I was young, I always thought  the lyrics to "Stairway to Heaven"  were strange.
At least the part where it said "...and there's a wino down the road" struck me as funny. Of course, I found out much later there were no winos in the lyrics. But still.

Anyway, here's my first ever Sunday picture prompt response. I tried to incorporate "bustle in your hedgerow"
but couldn't find a way. Oh well.

Word Count: 236

in response to the Valentine's Day prompt

A Full-throated love to nuclearxsummer, my next-door user

( In a world where putrescine )

The challenge for the Wednesday Muse Moment was Autobiography, write your biography in a way that interests people. I'm not entirely sure how well it worked or how interesting it is. Any of your impressions would help!

This recipe will take about sixteen years.

1988 was a good year for stupidity. Let’s add in two brothers, one divorce, mix slowly for six years. There are several moves in this recipe, but only add in one now but make it a big measure: from California to Texas. Let sit for a year or two. Pour in a second marriage with a step sister.

( A Recipe )

Because there just aren't enough creepy stories about toilets. I've been reading Rebecca this month because my book club likes to pick gloomy books so that's where the first line came from. And this was just under an hour.

Pennant

I dreamed again last night that I was back at Pennant.

In the dream, I walked into the unstaffed reception. A cluster of chairs hunched around a low table that was piled thick with trade publications. Framed newspaper clippings that mentioned the company in passing pockmarked the walls. I paused in my dream at a company photograph, taken at a time when Derek the managing director thought it would be a ripping wheeze to have everyone pose in cowboy or cowgirl costume. The faces blurred together as I tried to make them out and in that strange certainty that comes with dreams, I knew that that all the people were dead. More than that, I had a sense that they had died suffocating, struggling through cold earth. Buried.

( When I woke up gasping, it was 5am. I made tea. )

    The summer evening was drawing in around the house as Mary walked around downstairs, carefully closing every door.
( Read more... )

For the prompt "Cards".

( I didn't even try to come up with a title... )

I seem to have disregarded the word count. ^_^;;

When I saw the word "flighty," I immediately thought of someone who, in spite of everything, is still very dear to me. And I was inspired.

***

"A Bachelor's Button"


     Adrian sat in the wicker chair, playing a gin-swirling, clearly insane old man. It was a domestic scene, and he was overdressed. Adrian was normally overdressed, but here, finally, was a situation that called for it. Gin-swirling and silk vests seemed to go well together, and it was the obvious choice for the character. As was Adrian’s manic grin, all the more off-putting for the incisors that were filed flat. It seemed like the kind of idiosyncracy you would see from an older person.
     “So, Florence!” he roared from the corner, glass in hand, rising from his chair. “We meet again!” ( Read more... )

    "She's a Buddhist?" Kyle made a whistling sound between his teeth.
    "You think I should go then?"
    "Of course you should go, are you insane? She's a Buddhist - they're all... free love and letting it all hang out and stuff. As long as you don't kill any animals it's a sure thing."

( Read more... )

Being a new member, this is the first time I've ever responded to any of the prompts here.  

Er, I don't find it. But I do lose something rather important, and I go to a lot of trouble to try and get it back...

       

 

Mike was tired and he wanted a soft pretzel. The pretzel guy down the street smelled like old shoes and had an accent that couldn't quite be placed. Also his pretzels were always stale. He supposed he could go get a steak at Joey's, but it was 3 o'clock and the place would be full of kids. He didn't mind kids usually, but he minded them when he had to wait 20 minutes for a steak, provolone, wit'out, because the kids took so long deciding whether to go ahead and get the regular coke like they wanted or the diet so the other kids would comment on how they SO don't need to drink diet.( Read more... )

::shifts around nervously:: Clearly all my training in public speaking is going to do me no good here. I can't look anyone in the eye or picture my audience in clown noses (I assure you it's better than the underwear thing) in order to reassure myself since I can't see y'all (don't nag me; English lacks a good second person plural).

Yeah, so....I'm new, and according to the Rules and User Info, being bright, shiny, and new requires a brief survey of myself. So, here it goes:



So, now that that's taken care of and you feel as though you know a little something about me, and perhaps more  than you wanted to know about my feelings on fan-fic, we can move on. I work a weird job, I'm an emergency dispatcher for my college campus's quasi-security force. This tethers me to a desk in 4 to 8 hour chunks. So, when all the homework is done, I write. I know the rules say I have to critique before I ask for feedback, but I'm going to post this and then wander off into the community in order to critique other pieces. Okay? Good. So, I promise before 8:00AM EST, there will be two critiques with my username beside them. (By the by, does it bother anyone else to be referenced as a "user"? Maybe it's got something to do with my generation, or the urban-suburban setting I grew up in but the word just has connotations I don't want. Whatever, I'm over it. It was just a random thought that crossed my mind unbidden and without taking root). What did take root was that there was a Friday Prose Prompt though! I like prose! I'm tethered to the desk anyway, I may as well write about...Sports? Seriously? I'm at work for 8 hours in the middle of the night (0000 hours to 0800 hours), and looking for something to do and I said to myself, "Self, we'll just write a little something for the FPP," and the FPP turned out to be "sports". I know something about sports, being a fan of some kinds of certain sports but enough to write about a sport somehow? As the non-fictiony type of author I tend to be? Maybe not.



Thanks in advance for any and all feedback! Okay, I think that covers everything. Right? If not, then hi, I'm new and this is my introductory post.

I just whipped up this up in an hour and a half, perhaps. I hope the story is clear. It's inspired by Hindu myth as well as the photo. Oh, and this is my first post. Be gentle. ;)

( Read more... )

( Introduction )

Also, the following piece was inspired by today's pic. It's not long or complete, but it's something that first hit me when I saw the picture:

( Read more... )

Thanks for reading!