July 30, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that uses the phrase “her crowning glory.” (Thanks to Anne Goodwin for the prompt idea.) It can be in the traditional sense of a woman’s hair or applied to any idea of a best attribute. What happens if you play with the meaning or gender? Go where the prompt leads!
She stands on the edge of decision Beneath the pale silver crescent Her earthly form chosen Dark mane flowing Magic cannot be contained Her crowning glory, the spiral horn Long sought after by man One such as hers Said to be held by Merlin The magician, to raise Camelot She must risk going back in time When magic held no mystery, it just was To find a mate, to keep magic between the worlds As it had been from the beginning Will she risk losing her magic At the hands of some eager Wannabe wizard Or find her mate?
Thinking thoughts I dare not speak They stick like thorns inside my head How long can I hold them there? Before they fester, fight their way out Hurting those I’m thinking about If I don’t feed them with further thought Will they go away, stay unspoken? Then my family will think I am still nice My friends will still like me until like most locked boxes Someone finds a way to unlock them…
For visually challenged writers, theimage shows deeply worn stone steps, scattered with plants growing in the cracks, leading up to a blue-painted door.
Time worn concrete wave That makes me smile My feet ache at the thought Of how many souls have trod These steps Leaving perfect bottom shaped seats To sit and chat with your neighbour Take a seat in a worn-out time machine See where it takes you…
I went to a French high school. We didn’t do things like the Prom Queen and King. Come to think of it, I wonder if any of the English schools in Quebec did? Maybe it’s just an American thing. I honestly don’t know and frankly, don’t feel like looking it up because, in the grand scheme of things, it means diddly-squat. Prompt Queen? Now that’s a different story.
Somehow any writing I have done in the past few years has been a good ninety-to-ninety-five percent prompt-related. How did this happen? Is this a bad thing or a good thing? Or a nothing to even waste my energies on? I know I am far from alone. Many bloggers only write prompt-induced posts. And that is a fine thing. It has helped me work on my writing chops, I think. Plus, when it comes to creativity, I need a nudge.
Racket had gotten out of his cage. Nothing unusual about that, except that usually when I let him loose, I’d make sure to put away anything I cared about to avoid having Racket destroy it. It was futile but I felt obliged to try.
Racket, as his name implied, was a charming, noisy Sulpher-Crested Cockatoo. He was the perfect example of why cockatoo owners invented stainless steel perches. Racket could reduce anything made of hardwood to splinters in seconds. He had gone to work on the sofa not long ago … not the upholstery. I think the upholstery wasn’t a sufficient challenge for him. He had gone all out to redo the carved wood frame, perhaps with the intent of correcting the original artist’s errors.
The arm of the sofa nearest his cage was a pile of wood chips and splinters. No evidence of the original design remained. Having completed…
Good morning…from sunny Thailand…It’s Friday and time for some recipes and a chat…Bananas… I reckon everyone can buy a banana and has most certainly eaten or made banana bread and or a banana muffin…But do you know much about the banana, its health benefits and uses?
Bananas grow everywhere here...In gardens, by the roadside and on plantations…
Its scientific name is Musa Sapientum which roughly translated means Fruit of wise men
Here it is called Kluay pronounced glue eye.
Seasons vary slightly around the regions and it is a tree-like perennial and officially classed as a herb, the world’s largest herb as it can reach 25 feet in height. The fruit is also classed as a berry. Did you know that?
Here in Thailand leaves are used to serve food on or wrap food in like these little parcels of tri-coloured sticky rice topped with shredded pork floss.
This week has been a difficult one, with so many masked faces raising the ghosts of memories that I could wish had stayed well buried… memories of moments that I will not forget, no matter how much wishing I might do. Perhaps it is fallout from the whole virus crisis, perhaps it is something in the air… a collective reaction to having held our breath for so long while life has been on hold. It is often once a crisis begins to wind down, and the immediate need for action has eased, that the true scale of the emotions that have been simmering below the surface begin to make themselves known.
But, in spite of that, and despite it being a week of painkillers for breakfast every day, there have been many brighter moments, with Nature unveiling daily miracles and my son making plans that might make my life a…
I had high expectations for 2020. When you make plans, you expect deviations from the path, setbacks, and unexpected obstacles. But I never dreamed we would encounter the end of the world we once knew. Everything is reminiscent of the Gravitron. You remember the centrifuge style carnival ride that spins, pinning your body against the wall before the floor drops?
With no firm footing, my writing drive evaporated. Winter descended. You know what the professionals suggest when you feel blocked and can’t write? They say you should write anyway. Gee, thanks. I hate this advice. Opening my laptop was the last thing I wanted to do. Another set of experts counsel you to exercise self-care, don’t require too much, rest, and give yourself permission to not write. Facing conflicting schools of thought, what was a writer to do?
Me, myself, and I had a long conversation. We decided to adopt…