Posts from the ‘55 Fiction’ Category

Mind Your Sweaters

I have the sisters for you again!
Hope you liked them the last time Read more…

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We have waltzes, They Have Pizza

The Cicilians I mean.
But this post isn’t really about Cicilians exactly.
This is just to say … that although I have not eaten any plums, the post I was originally going to put up to day will have to be posted tomorrow or sunday.
I am off now for grand and whild adventures
Here now, read and enjoy. It is one of my more family friendly stories. Read more…

Instant Challenge

Shush, In some parts of the world it is not yet midnight.
Here is my response to a writing prompt one of my writer friends gave to me.

Instantly the glass was airborne, fleeing her hand only to smash against the wall. The red wine dripped down the white paint like blood.

“How … could you?” She screamed.

“I … I didn’t think …” he stammered.

“Of course you didn’t think! You never think first!”

“I just thought she should know the truth about Santa Claus.”

The prompt was to write a 55 starting with the word instantly.
No, this one doesn’t have a title yet.

Just A Little Silence

Hmm,What have I for you today you ask? Well you wonderful people, It just happens I do have something for you. So with out further delay, ANOTHER STORY!

Just A Little Silence

It was a typical work day, long and stressful, but the house was empty. She ran the shower,
hot,
relaxing,
drowning out all the noise.
No, it was quiet; too quiet.
Silence or stealth?
Footsteps or …
she yanked the curtain aside back scrubber at the ready.
From above the sink, her soapy reflection did likewise.

Furnishing The New House

Today I am crafting! I finally got out to the store and now have the matterials for a project I am starting. It may take me a little while to figure out, but guess what? You get another story! enjoy.

The following items were reported missing from Mrs. crawford’s property:
a small television, a gray couch, a rug, the refrigerator, bed, dresser, washer and drier, kitchen table and chairs.
Anna folded the paper, looked at the “new” used gray couch then her husband.
“Old Crawford was still living there?” he asked.

“Secondhand, huh?” Anna sneered.

Diving Deep

And now … something a bit different

Here is a story for you while I am off thinking.

It was not at all how she’d imagined.
In her mind, her body sliced the water clean, like a shark;
arrowing down
deeper until the bottom came up to meet her.
To her
it was romantically tragic.

She did not foresee the rocks,
or the blood,
or the cold.
Blackness took her
before regrets formed.