Self Storage…
from bitly http://bit.ly/1JwuK1V
via R.Todd Writes
Monday, August 31, 2015
Saturday, August 29, 2015
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Little Luigi…
The family had no idea that little Luigi would grow up to be… over 7 foot tall. But, there is that saying that goes something like humble beginnings and greatness. I don’t rightly remember, some dilly-dally said it once and with his fancy pants and his fancy mustache, I really didn’t pay that much ‘tention to him. ‘Sides, hes’n was just selling some snake oil bout how “if elected, I will reform America”. How you gonna go and reform land anyhow? Not like you can just pick up a plot and move it. City folk was always tryin’ to sell us and what this coot was pushin twain’t first, nor the last, time any of us folk heard a tall tale spun like yarn from Rapunzel’s hair.
Anyway, I always fount it silly to call him Little Luigi. Guess’n just goes to show, people’s lie bout all kinds of stuff.
Filed under: Micro Fiction Tagged: MFtS
Little Luigi…
The family had no idea that little Luigi would grow up to be… over 7 foot tall. But, there is that saying that goes something like humble beginnings and greatness. I don’t rightly remember, some dilly-dally said it once and with his fancy pants and his fancy mustache, I really didn’t pay that much ‘tention to him. ‘Sides, hes’n was just selling some snake oil bout how “if elected, I will reform America”. How you gonna go and reform land anyhow? Not like you can just pick up a plot and move it. City folk was always tryin’ to sell us and what this coot was pushin twain’t first, nor the last, time any of us folk heard a tall tale spun like yarn from Rapunzel’s hair.
Anyway, I always fount it silly to call him Little Luigi. Guess’n just goes to show, people’s lie bout all kinds of stuff.
Filed under: Micro Fiction Tagged: MFtS
http://ift.tt/1EkYvDQ
The Freak Show…
You knew her once, but she’s not the same
You see, she’s undergone a little change
There’s no need to worry, no need to fret,
Just don’t say something you might regret.
Just give it a few days and you’ll be fine
Unless you post it in verse and rhyme.
***
Disclaimer: This was just something silly that popped into my head. Not related to anyone in specific. Oh, and if you don't hear from me in the next week, assume that I'm dead.
Filed under: Poetry Tagged: Doggerel
http://ift.tt/1i4sRAt
The Freak Show…
You knew her once, but she’s not the same
You see, she’s undergone a little change
There’s no need to worry, no need to fret,
Just don’t say something you might regret.
Just give it a few days and you’ll be fine
Unless you post it in verse and rhyme.
***
Disclaimer: This was just something silly that popped into my head. Not related to anyone in specific. Oh, and if you don't hear from me in the next week, assume that I'm dead.
Filed under: Poetry Tagged: Doggerel
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
Breakfast is Served…
The table on the patio was set, and violets, her favorite, were freshly cut and placed in a vase as blueberry pancakes lay wrapped under a linen towel and the compote kept warm nestled over a tea-light votive. He checked his watch, nervousness overtaking every fiber of his being, as he toyed with the diamond engagment ring that was the constant reminder to the painstakingly difficult plans he had so desperately worked on. He saw her through the sliding glass door as she walked into her kitchen, the kimono hugging every inch of her body, and he felt a lump grow in his throat as she turned and saw him. As she walked outside, he came over to her and knelt down on one knee, the ring extended out in front of him. But before he ever had a chance to speak, she hit him with the cast iron skillet in her hand, and as unconsciousness threatened to overtake him, he heard her say, “I warned you what would happen if you kept stalking me!”
Filed under: Flash Fiction Tagged: FSF
http://ift.tt/1PxfRhf
Breakfast is Served…
The table on the patio was set, and violets, her favorite, were freshly cut and placed in a vase as blueberry pancakes lay wrapped under a linen towel and the compote kept warm nestled over a tea-light votive. He checked his watch, nervousness overtaking every fiber of his being, as he toyed with the diamond engagment ring that was the constant reminder to the painstakingly difficult plans he had so desperately worked on. He saw her through the sliding glass door as she walked into her kitchen, the kimono hugging every inch of her body, and he felt a lump grow in his throat as she turned and saw him. As she walked outside, he came over to her and knelt down on one knee, the ring extended out in front of him. But before he ever had a chance to speak, she hit him with the cast iron skillet in her hand, and as unconsciousness threatened to overtake him, he heard her say, “I warned you what would happen if you kept stalking me!”
Filed under: Flash Fiction Tagged: FSF
Go Back To Sleep…
I awoke at precisely 3.02 a.m., my internal alarm screaming at me – something was wrong. I reached for my phone on the nightstand and pressed the home button, the light blinding me and causing me to squint as I checked the time. Rubbing my eyes, I listened, wondering what it was that could have woken me.
Over the whirring and knocking of the off-balanced ceiling fan that I had been meaning to fix for three years, I could barely hear the crying coming from the bathroom. I slide my hand to my wife’s side of the bed, and felt sheets where her body should have been, not that I needed to confirm it was her in our bathroom, but kind of hoping I was just hearing things, too. Sitting up on my elbow, I called out to her, “Maggie, are you ok?”
The crying stopped and I could tell she was doing her best not to concern me as she softly said from behind the closed-door, “I’m fine, honey. Go back to sleep.”
‘I’m fine.’ The two words in every woman’s vocabulary that ignites a primal fear in every man’s heart. Taking a deep breath, I propped myself up and swung my legs out over the edge of the bed. I wasn’t going to be going back to sleep, and I knew that if I did, sometime in the next fifteen years, this moment would be used against me in a court of matrimonial argument. So, I resigned myself to my course of action and made for the bathroom door.
I had to tread carefully, because the literal minefield of our bedroom floor could be littered with any number of children’s toys, balled up clothes, or left out shoes, each one spelling doom for me if I stepped wrong. However, the loud hissing shriek of the cat as I stepped on his tail was not something I was expecting, and as I jumped up off of him, I fell backwards into the wall I was using to support my half-asleep self, knocking over the lamp on the dresser and sending it crashing to the floor.
Without missing a beat, my wife called out from the bathroom, “Are you ok?”
Now, mind you, I’m a smart-alex to begin with, but as I sat there, on the floor with my pride firmly shattered next to the lamp, and the cat nuzzling up to me, I just calmly said back to her, “I’m fine honey. Go back to sleep.”
Filed under: Flash Fiction Tagged: MMWM
http://ift.tt/1MSbwYp
Go Back To Sleep…
I awoke at precisely 3.02 a.m., my internal alarm screaming at me – something was wrong. I reached for my phone on the nightstand and pressed the home button, the light blinding me and causing me to squint as I checked the time. Rubbing my eyes, I listened, wondering what it was that could have woken me.
Over the whirring and knocking of the off-balanced ceiling fan that I had been meaning to fix for three years, I could barely hear the crying coming from the bathroom. I slide my hand to my wife’s side of the bed, and felt sheets where her body should have been, not that I needed to confirm it was her in our bathroom, but kind of hoping I was just hearing things, too. Sitting up on my elbow, I called out to her, “Maggie, are you ok?”
The crying stopped and I could tell she was doing her best not to concern me as she softly said from behind the closed-door, “I’m fine, honey. Go back to sleep.”
‘I’m fine.’ The two words in every woman’s vocabulary that ignites a primal fear in every man’s heart. Taking a deep breath, I propped myself up and swung my legs out over the edge of the bed. I wasn’t going to be going back to sleep, and I knew that if I did, sometime in the next fifteen years, this moment would be used against me in a court of matrimonial argument. So, I resigned myself to my course of action and made for the bathroom door.
I had to tread carefully, because the literal minefield of our bedroom floor could be littered with any number of children’s toys, balled up clothes, or left out shoes, each one spelling doom for me if I stepped wrong. However, the loud hissing shriek of the cat as I stepped on his tail was not something I was expecting, and as I jumped up off of him, I fell backwards into the wall I was using to support my half-asleep self, knocking over the lamp on the dresser and sending it crashing to the floor.
Without missing a beat, my wife called out from the bathroom, “Are you ok?”
Now, mind you, I’m a smart-alex to begin with, but as I sat there, on the floor with my pride firmly shattered next to the lamp, and the cat nuzzling up to me, I just calmly said back to her, “I’m fine honey. Go back to sleep.”
Filed under: Flash Fiction Tagged: MMWM
Monday, August 24, 2015
Brush…
The soft bristles brush
Through her hair one-hundred times
Her nightly ritual.
***
How easy it is
To brush aside so much pain,
When it is not yours.
***
Her face flushes red
As fingertips brush gently
Across her soft cheek.
***
Filed under: Poetry Tagged: Haiku, Haiku Horizons
http://ift.tt/1JsFc7r
Red is the Color…
Red is the color
That has allowed me to be
A free bird in flight.
***
Filed under: Poetry Tagged: Haiku, RW Haiku Challenge
http://ift.tt/1LwUkr4
Brush…
The soft bristles brush
Through her hair one-hundred times
Her nightly ritual.
***
How easy it is
To brush aside so much pain,
When it is not yours.
***
Her face flushes red
As fingertips brush gently
Across her soft cheek.
***
Filed under: Poetry Tagged: Haiku, Haiku Horizons
Red is the Color…
Red is the color
That has allowed me to be
A free bird in flight.
***
Filed under: Poetry Tagged: Haiku, RW Haiku Challenge
Friday, August 21, 2015
Buy Me the Moon…
“Yes, I’d like the moon balloon, please.” The man said as he looked at the colorful conglomeration of helium filled mylar.
“Oh, the moon? Yes, I…” The woman paused as she looked through the entire sorted stack, then spotting it at the very top, frowned a little and sighed. “You sure you want the moon?”
“Well, nothing is too good for my little girl, and when she asks her daddy to buy her the moon, you better believe that her daddy is going to buy her the moon.”
“Well,” said the attendant, “I can’t argue with that.” And begrudgingly started untying the mass of balloons one strand at a time.
Filed under: Micro Fiction Tagged: FFfAW
http://ift.tt/1U5sVvR
Buy Me the Moon…
“Yes, I’d like the moon balloon, please.” The man said as he looked at the colorful conglomeration of helium filled mylar.
“Oh, the moon? Yes, I…” The woman paused as she looked through the entire sorted stack, then spotting it at the very top, frowned a little and sighed. “You sure you want the moon?”
“Well, nothing is too good for my little girl, and when she asks her daddy to buy her the moon, you better believe that her daddy is going to buy her the moon.”
“Well,” said the attendant, “I can’t argue with that.” And begrudgingly started untying the mass of balloons one strand at a time.
Filed under: Micro Fiction Tagged: FFfAW
Million Dollar Question…
“Pods.”
“Is that what they are called?”
“Yes. Pods. Quite sure.”
“So, like peas?”
“Hrm. Yes. I guess your right.”
“Seems silly, don’t you think. They don’t look anything like peas.”
“That they don’t, son. That they don’t.”
“When did the last one die?”
“Oh, long before I was ever born. Back in the 21st century.”
“Seems a pity. They seemed like beautiful creatures.”
“From the vids I have seen, they were quite the creature.”
“Why didn’t we save them?”
“Now, that my son, is the million dollar question.”
“What’s a million dollars?”
“A completely different story, son. A completely different story.”
Filed under: Micro Fiction Tagged: Friday Fictioneers
An Artist’s Anxiety…
Trenchant and desperate thoughts stirred his soul as his brush moved across the canvas in harsh strokes, splattering blues and greens, blending yellows with reds, leaving indistinguishable traces of the masterpiece that lay underneath. He called it “Inner Self”.
photo credit
Filed under: Micro Fiction Tagged: Grammar Ghoul
Million Dollar Question…
“Pods.”
“Is that what they are called?”
“Yes. Pods. Quite sure.”
“So, like peas?”
“Hrm. Yes. I guess your right.”
“Seems silly, don’t you think. They don’t look anything like peas.”
“That they don’t, son. That they don’t.”
“When did the last one die?”
“Oh, long before I was ever born. Back in the 21st century.”
“Seems a pity. They seemed like beautiful creatures.”
“From the vids I have seen, they were quite the creature.”
“Why didn’t we save them?”
“Now, that my son, is the million dollar question.”
“What’s a million dollars?”
“A completely different story, son. A completely different story.”
Filed under: Micro Fiction Tagged: Friday Fictioneers
http://ift.tt/1EayqYn
An Artist’s Anxiety…
Trenchant and desperate thoughts stirred his soul as his brush moved across the canvas in harsh strokes, splattering blues and greens, blending yellows with reds, leaving indistinguishable traces of the masterpiece that lay underneath. He called it “Inner Self”.
photo credit
Filed under: Micro Fiction Tagged: Grammar Ghoul
http://ift.tt/1EJ8BZX
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Broken Promises…
She held out the crumbled paper in her hand toward him. “How could you?”
“It was a moment of weakness.”
“A moment of weakness? We made a promise!”
“Sorry.”
“Sorry? That’s the best you can do.”
“Honey, it was just one hamburger.”
Filed under: Micro Fiction Tagged: Yeah Write
http://ift.tt/1hp0FII
Broken Promises…
She held out the crumbled paper in her hand toward him. “How could you?”
“It was a moment of weakness.”
“A moment of weakness? We made a promise!”
“Sorry.”
“Sorry? That’s the best you can do.”
“Honey, it was just one hamburger.”
Filed under: Micro Fiction Tagged: Yeah Write
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
The All Seeing Eye…
“I see absolutely everything.” The words formed in the young wizard’s mind from the eye carved out of the knot in the tree.
“I see what you did there.” The young wizard spoke out loud.
“What? What do you mean?” The thoughts came.
“You said ‘I see’. That’s very funny.”
“What? Are you mocking me? That isn’t very nice.”
“I’m not mocking you. You made a joke.”
“I did not.” The wizard guffawed. “What now?” Asked the tree.
“Eye. Knot. Come on, how are you..ehem.. knot.. getting this?”
“You’re being mean. You should leave.”
“Oh, you mean, I should be like a tree?” The wizard smirked.
“What?”
“And leave? No? Nothing? Seriously?”
“You are getting on my last…”
“Root?”
“That’s it.” The voice was angry. “Now you will pay.”
“You’re a giant eyeball carved into a tree. What are you going to do, stare me to death?”
The wizard was laughing so hard he never saw the limb that took him off his feet.
“No, I think I’ll just branch out and try something new.” The tree smirked.
Filed under: Micro Fiction Tagged: MFtS
The All Seeing Eye…
“I see absolutely everything.” The words formed in the young wizard’s mind from the eye carved out of the knot in the tree.
“I see what you did there.” The young wizard spoke out loud.
“What? What do you mean?” The thoughts came.
“You said ‘I see’. That’s very funny.”
“What? Are you mocking me? That isn’t very nice.”
“I’m not mocking you. You made a joke.”
“I did not.” The wizard guffawed. “What now?” Asked the tree.
“Eye. Knot. Come on, how are you..ehem.. knot.. getting this?”
“You’re being mean. You should leave.”
“Oh, you mean, I should be like a tree?” The wizard smirked.
“What?”
“And leave? No? Nothing? Seriously?”
“You are getting on my last…”
“Root?”
“That’s it.” The voice was angry. “Now you will pay.”
“You’re a giant eyeball carved into a tree. What are you going to do, stare me to death?”
The wizard was laughing so hard he never saw the limb that took him off his feet.
“No, I think I’ll just branch out and try something new.” The tree smirked.
Filed under: Micro Fiction Tagged: MFtS
http://ift.tt/1PxHjfy
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