I write flash fiction, non-fiction, essays and novels. This month’s Tease is from a short fiction piece in progress.
The wet trail smells like childhood and the sky is painted dark like death. Between the two, hanging from the horizon, burn the changing leaves of Autumn, and his life. Slog, trudge – pause to glimpse the beautiful, the mysterious – then slog, trudge and carry on once more. The trail seemed to be all that mattered, all that existed, aside from his thoughts … and the fire.
Fall colors visit the Little Spokane River Valley.
It’s November, the prompt is abundance. Naturally, my thoughts go straight to cornucopias and rotund relatives napping on couches, turkey gravy dribbling from the corners of their grateful mouths, everything we already know about Thanksgiving. But this is supposed to be a prompt, not an exercise in groupthink. If I wanted to conform, I could just watch “Dancing with the Stars” or wear skinny jeans and grow a really ugly beard. Cool can be cruel.
So, instead, I study the word with greater urgency, hoping to spot a seam that reveals a trapdoor. And then it emerges. Dancing pastries.
My prompt has evolved from tired holiday introspection to a celebration of yeast choreography. A King’s Hawaiian Roll jubilee with arching crescents, leaping Lefse and, of course, dancing buns. A worthwhile prompt that will lead me down a literary buffet line I have yet to visit. A proper prompt. And for that I’m truly thankful.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Home Turf.”
Mow it. Mow it now. You don’t have to edge it, or even trim it, but please, for the love of Briggs and Stratton, mow it. And try watering it too.
Home turf isn’t just my yard. It’s every lawn I can see from my yard, every dandelion I can see from my driveway, every burnt square of brown I pass driving down my street. I understand that people are busy.They have kids, jobs, dreams.
But you purchased a house, for crying out loud. Does that not imply some responsibility toward your neighbors?
We all miss a mow or two. Emergencies, equipment failures, even vacations can get in the way of lawn care. But it’s the same lawns week after week. You know who you are. Turn the porch lights on. Tape a flashlight to that thing and let’s get going.
And get those leaves while you’re at it.
Hikes and Travels in Colorado and Beyond
Блог Алексея Марковича (писатель, переводчик английского языка). Авторские фотографии, рисунки, открытки с видами Белгорода и области. Отзывы о кафе, ресторанах, пиццериях
Stories and photos from Scotland
Blurring the lines between poetry and prose
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Is it destiny, happenstance or stratagem?
Showcasing the beauty of Mother Nature
A dose of fetish. Good friends. An incomparable muse.
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Wandering Soul Writer
reflections on a passing life
Everyone has a story to tell. This is me, telling mine.
I had to find some way to entertain myself, so I made up stories in my mind. One night I started writing them down and never stopped.
I Read To Learn About Others - I Write To Learn About Myself
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Where no one is barred and everyone is grilled.