FFfAW : The barman and the golden girl

 

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Michelle DeAngelis. Thank you Michelle!


The beachfront’s infested.

I see’em on every slipway, bumping their asses against the fencing. On the beach tangled in fishing nets like red snapper.

I found a pair behind the bar this morning, making out on a crate of Bud Light. Thought it was raccoons going through the trash again.

Meg used to laugh at my bitching, shake her head as she sliced lemons for the evening. ‘Leave ’em in peace. They’re only young once.’

Maybe that’s why I’m angry. Cos that used to be me and Meg rattling beer bottles, slipping into warm, gritty sheets of sand, waking when the sun seared the backs of our necks.

Now I’m here tending bar, slopping out drunks at closing, getting turned over at least once a season by some junkie too glass-eyed to see his way to the register.

And Meg’s in an urn in the back room, my golden girl stored in tarnished plastic.

 


Written for Priceless Joy’s FFfAW. See the pic and write a tale. Don’t forget to share, read and comment here.

 

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Weekend Writing Prompt #72 : Shell

 

 

Lipstick, mascara, hairspray, her shell was complete. Her real self hidden. Protected.

 


Written for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #72. No, it’s not the weekend, but I thought I’d sneak in and scribble an offering anyway. See here to join in the fun.

Online anthology goes live

Ever stuck on the bus, longing to escape the nose to tail brake lights and cloud of body odour and halitosis emanating from the man pressed slightly-too-close beside you?

Tired of reading about celebrity cellulite/ nose jobs/ make ups/ break ups and seeing endless pics of your cousins’s perfect kids smiling on the beach/ in their school uniform/ at ballet, tap, taekwondo, Brazilian capoeira classes on your social media feed?

Would you like to escape to snow capped mountains/ run away to join the circus, travelling chainsaw jugglers, vacuum salesman/ find somewhere magical, terrifying or beautiful to hide, if only for a while? Then I’m delighted to announce, I have good news.

The tireless and tirelessly imaginative Sammi Cox has launched a new anthology on WordPress,

Outcast and other words.

The anthology has 52 themed chapters and brings together contributions from a year’s worth of her weekly writing prompts. There’s poetry and stories on every subject from Shadows to Colours, Remedy to Moonstruck, Ragtag & Wanderlust.

I’m delighted to say, I have two shorts in the collection – see Chapter 11: Guardian and Chapter 44: Fallen if you need a short fiction fix.

If your need is for something longer, Sammi’s Oathbreaker is available to read on Wattpad, in fact, it’s just been included on the Watty’s 2018 long list …

Eleri, priestess of the Green Lady, has waited for so long to marry her tribe’s champion, Celyn. Finally, the date is set for Midsummer’s Eve, when the tribes have gathered in the valley to celebrate the longest day at the stone circle perched up on the hill. But nothing is as it seems…

A glimpse of a bird circling over the stones foretells of doom…and maybe even death.

An oath is made. An oath is broken. And Eleri’s life changes forever…

Sounds good, doesn’t it?

And Sammi’s weekly prompt is ongoing, so if you’d like to join in for some inspiration, pop along to her blog, here.

Happy reading and scribbling, folks!

 

 

 

FFfAW : In search of other colours

 

This week’s photo prompt is provided by wildverbs. Thank you wildverbs!


 

I rub my palm on the misted bus window, clearing a porthole of clean glass to peer through. Lawns stretch along straight roads, dust-dulled grass cut by grey tarmac, grey houses, grey pavements.

There’s a man mowing his lawn, stooped back turned towards me, grey head down as he follows the straight line in the grass. His cardigan flaps in the breeze, the colour of gunmetal. He could almost be my dad, bent under the weight of geometric lawns, pub and pint Saturdays, roast beef Sundays, back to work Mondays.

The bus passes on and leaves the man behind and I begin my search for other colours.

 


Written for the FFfAW Challenge. See the pic and write a tale, share, read and comment. See here to join in the fun.

The image of green and grey through a gloomy window reminded me of one of my favourite New Model Army songs, Green and Grey. The song is all about someone who escapes a small town life … and the people they leave behind.

Win a Doodle! Hooray and Huzzah!

This is a fun way to have a chance of winning a doodle by the very talented Mike Allegra. Do read the other entries – some are truly jaw dropping!

heylookawriterfellow

I really like hosting blog contests!

And I really, really like doodling!

And I really, really, really like the fact that some people like my doodles!

So it is time once again for my semi-annual

WIN A DOODLE CONTEST!

Who will be the lucky winner? Will it be YOU?

The grand (and only) prize will be a custom made, one-of-a-kind, Mike Allegra doodle of ANYTHING YOU WANT!

“Anything?” you ask.

Yes, anything—provided that “anything” isn’t perverted. I’m a children’s book author, after all, so get your mind out of the gutter!

Otherwise, yes. ANYTHING!

Past contest winners have asked for all kinds of doodles. Like exotic birds…

(Click to enlarge.)

A caffeine gnome…

(Click to enlarge.)

A raven shapeshifter (whatever that is)…

(Click to enlarge.)

A woman doing yoga and holding a pen as the ghost of her dearly departed dog looks on…

(Click to enlarge.)

And (of course) that…

View original post 274 more words

Three Line Tales : Frost coming

three line tales week 136: camping

photo by Tyler Nix via Unsplash


 

At midday the heat would drive Denny lumbering from the van to shelter under the makeshift lean-to. The mirror in her compact was broken which was a blessing – she didn’t relish seeing her reflection, the boiled ham flesh where once were hollow cheeks.

Still, she was grateful for the sun on her skin. Soon enough the scrub would be dusted with snow, glittering with frost. There were no trees to burn out here and few shrubs, she was down to her last canister of gas. She could freeze one night and only the coyotes would find her this side of April.

But even that wasn’t the most terrifying thought. Because the baby could come any day now, slip out of her like an eel onto a dry river bed. What if he hadn’t returned by then? What if she was alone?

 


Written for Three Line Tales. See the pic and write a story.

What Pegman Saw : Parallel Worlds

 

 

It’s only after thirty years away, I see how idyllic my childhood home is and I have the strangest feeling of seeing two parallel worlds, as if each eye is imprinted with a different image, my brain struggling to reconcile the two.

There is the picture window gazing onto the endless ocean, a porch swing wide enough for two, a spotless white picket fence.

Blink and I see the other world …

… six years old, paint brush falling from my hand as a boot kicks me from behind. The graze on my temple from the fence  …

… shivering on the porch swing as the dark creeps in, as wild things snuffle closer, as the shouting from inside turns to screams …

… banging at the picture window as my mother walks away, never turning, never looking back …

Tugging my collar against the wind, I’m glad of its beauty.

It means it will sell quickly.


Written for What Pegman Saw, the prompt inspired by Google Street View. This week we are on Mackinac Island, Michigan. See here to join in and to read the other stories.