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Category: Writing Prompts
I found some topics on Pinterest grouped monthly. Thought I’d give it a whirl.
Like, restaurant? Or locale? Or city? I don’t know, and it seems unfair to only list one, so I’ll do three. Place to eat: Aubrey’s. Good food, drinks, and atmosphere. I always have a good time, no matter what time of day or who I’m with. I used to frequent the one off Papermill nearly every Tuesday afternoon, meeting a friend for $2 pints. Eventually, I transitioned to the one at Strawberry Plains due to traffic and I was kind of outgrowing the bar scene. Now I have one in my worktown! Lunch spot!! The food is excellent, with emphasis on local meats and produce. The ambiance is warm and it the restaurant is clean. The waiters are attentive and friendly, the TVs are always set on something of interest (as if I actually watch them), and the bartenders have never let me go dry. They will even mix you up something special if you don’t see anything to your fancy on the menu or you’re feeling adventurous. Locale: I really like the Apple Barn. Especially now that they have a brewery. I always feel right at home. It’s so homey & cozy, and I’ve bought several decorative items in the barn. The best thing about the restaurant, besides the creaking, gleaming, burnished yellow pine floors, is the apple fritters. Gah. I can taste them now and my mouth is watering. There aren’…
#1) A song you like with a color in the title: Blue on Black Kenny Wayne Shepherd #2) A song you like with a number in the title: 9 to 5, Dolly Parton (clackety clackety clack clack clack) #3) A song that reminds you of summertime: Cruel Summer, Bananarama #4) A song that reminds you of someone you would rather forget about: Cheatin’, Sara Evans 🙂 #5) A song that needs to be played LOUD: Kryptonite, Three Doors Down #6) A song that makes you want to dance: Candyman, Christina Aquilera #7) A song to drive to: Nightrain, GNR #8) A song about drugs or alcohol (Aren’t they all?): Semi Charmed Life, Third Eye Blind…which I didn’t KNOW was a song about drugs until about ten years after the fact….so naive #9) A song that makes you happy: My Church Maren Morris #10) A song that makes you sad: I Can Still Make Cheyenne by George Strait #11) A song that you never get tired of: Wagonwheel, Old Crow Medicine Show #12) A song from your preteen years: Enter Sandman, Metallica #13) One of your favorite 80’s songs: No question. Billie Jean, by the King of Pop, Michael Jackson #14) A song that you would love played at your wedding: Long Legged Guitar Pickin’ Man….what? Did you expect something romantic? You know me but not at all #15) A song that is a cover by another artist…
Nothing was going as planned. If you know me, you’re probably surprised to learn I even HAVE a plan. I admit, my plan normally never stretches further than what I will be consuming for my three meals that day. But I sometimes will plan vacations months in advance, especially if it’s a new destination. I don’t want to miss anything in the event I can never return, so I like to have all my high points mapped and time allocated to enjoy them. I have enough to plan for in the course of a month between board meetings and bills, I don’t like to have to commit to much in between. I plan to go to bed between 10-11. I plan to get up by 6:30. I plan to stay at work until 4. You know. Plans. Plus all the plans I have for cleaning, writing, reading, watching TV, exercising. When you think about it, you’ve got your whole life planned out in this manner. If you’re married, you plan to see it through, growing old on a porch swing, watching your grandchildren frolic in the evening twilight, catching lightning bugs. Oh wait. I mean tapping on their tablet in front of your 60″ HD Smart TV. My plans rarely work out. I tend to over schedule myself and then panic halfway through my day when I’ve only accomplished the one thing. Nothing…
{WP#482. A scientist created a new animal today} Breaking: Houston, TX. Associated Press Herschel Barnes, PhD, of Bayloyre Genetics, has successfully created a new creature, a hybrid formed from a nine banded armadillo (Latin: Dasypus novemcinctus) and a black tailed jackrabbit (Latin: Lepus californicus). This is not a prank, coming from the age old play of the “jackalope”. It is unknown at this time how successful captive breeding will be, as armadillos can weigh upwards of 100 pounds, while jackrabbits are a modest seven. Dr. Barnes is reported to say, “I was just messing around, seeing what I could create. When the sperm and egg fused, it was a Friday afternoon and I didn’t go home until Monday.” They’re calling it “Armarabbit”. The creature can leap a measured 17 feet flat footed, and gains an additional twelve feet if given a running start. It rivals the Kangaroo Rat for distance in relation to body size. It features long, sinewy hind legs with two inch toenails. The front feet are largely useless, and almost completely covered with scales. The reduced ears give it more of a dinosaur appearance with tufts of hair on the underside and scales topside. We were unable to secure a picture, as the world-renowned scientist is keeping things under wraps until more is researched. It is an omnivore, preferring plants over grubworms and roadkill (this reporter does, too!). By and large nocturnal, the corporation has…
Wallyworld was closed when Chevy Chase finally managed to arrive, and so was the closest bar-be-cue joint by the time I got there. I breathed in slowly through my nose, like I was taught to do in yoga. It wasn’t the end of the world, this was a first world problem, but just what I wouldn’t do for some pulled pork and slaw. My one and only coworker had grated on my nerves all day, badmouthing our President and leaders, poking his nose in ALL of my business, pretending he knew me better than I knew myself. It’s a dang wonder I hadn’t thrown my stapler at him. On top of that, I had an appointment with my accountant after the grueling day at work. I despise doing adult things like that. If I never have to see another lawyer, doctor, or banker, that would be just fine by me. As a matter of fact, I decided on the spot, if I ever hit the lottery, they’d be the first people I’d do away with. As quick as I could get me a financial adviser nailed down (Monte B, I’m looking at you), the next person I’d hire would be someone to manage my other business. I would never have to schedule another appointment or ask questions about my money. I could literally just drift along on the high seas from the…
{#907 You are the main attraction at an old timey carnival side show} I was born a siren eighty miles off the coast of the Emerald Isle. The waters were cold, but my beauty was a flame that kept me warm. I swam wherever I wanted, only mindful of the big wooden ships steaming out for America every day. I batted my tail up sometimes, quick as a hiccup, making the sailors wonder if they saw anything at all. Maybe it was just the glimmer of the sun on the water. Maybe they missed their girl already. I dreamed of having sparkling jewelry made of diamonds and sapphires, not these devoid of color pearls. I wanted legs to dance on. I wanted a life on land. There was one way to obtain it. I could trade my fin forever by luring a man to his death. Girls did it all the time, we were known to be mesmerizing. And we would possess the same beauty on land as we did in the sea, just without our giant, beautiful tail to propel us along. We would be known as vixens. It would be easy enough: wait for a foggy night with a still sea, begin my enchantment by singing my siren song, beckon them closer, closer, until his eyes go gooey with lust, and then catapult out of the water like I was going in for just a kiss but really going for his heart. Or his legs, be that as…
{#378 They say revenge is a dish best served cold. You’ve waited ten years for this moment} The following is a work of fiction. I’ve always said fiction has a good dose of fact, mixed with some fantasy. I’ll let you determine what’s what. Enjoy! I come from a long line of rage. My lawyers tried to get me off on a insanity plea, but I told them like I told everybody else in that courtroom I wasn’t crazy and I damn sure wasn’t sorry. I don’t think that helped my case. But I’ve been taught my whole life there’s nothing wrong with the truth. I’ve also been told on numerous occasions to keep my mouth shut. I’d had all I could take. The literal love of my life expected sympathy for his foolish decisions to take a lover that has bankrupted him. That’s after what I got. I didn’t feel any sympathy, I felt a maniacal fury towards him and the last ten years of my life. I’d warned him over and over again to just shut up. My head pounded, my teeth chattered, my hands clenched. When he reached for me, I scuttled backward like a crawdad. Crawdads aren’t scared, you know. It’s just self preservation. They will fight. They will pinch you seventeen ways to…
This is an old story, one I have held off on publishing. I had originally called it “But”, however when I came to this writing prompt, it was a perfect fit. He never laid a hand on me. It’s been ten years, but the memory of him still breaks me out in a sweat. When he meets people and finds out they know me, I’m brushed off with a, “Oh, we went out a few times.” I lived with him for two years. We traveled the continent together. We talked nearly every day for over six years. I loved him, because he made me. Because I didn’t know any better. I thought the constant struggle for air was a form of love. This story is nearly impossible to write. I’ve had him out of my head for quite awhile, until a month or so ago, when in walked the director for the Women’s Center in Jefferson County. I try to make conversation while plugging in information on the QuickBooks invoice because it makes people feel more comfortable and it makes time go faster. There ain’t nothin’ quick about QuickBooks. She was so confident in her mannerisms, just the way she carried herself and the way she spoke. She was approachable but businesslike and I found myself confiding in her. “So what does your organization do? Provide shelter to women coming from domestic…
I sat on a salt worn, splinter ridden, slate grey deck outside a restaurant in Newport Bay, Oregon. I ate a Cobb salad and couldn’t resist sharing with the sea lions scattered on the rocky beach below me. Tomato and bit of egg for me, lettuce for you. Cucumber drenched in ranch dressing for me….more lettuce for you. Between their barking and the squall of seagulls, the waves breaking onshore were nearly drowned out. Perfect background noise for this dismal June day. Dismal only because it was June and June is supposed to be bright and just becoming uncomfortably hot. Not rainy and 50 degrees. But the Pacific Northwest isn’t known for enchanting weather. Majestic trees and rocky shorelines, yes. And, of course, The Goonies. I was supposed to be setting foot in Ireland right about now, but instead I was watching seals on a buoy a few hundred yards out. It wasn’t so bad. The temperature was probably about the same. Less bars and yuppier people, but that was okay too. I wasn’t in much of a mood for socializing. I wondered about the seals on the buoy. Did they swim out there, away from their counterparts for a bit of a break? Did they aim to stake out a claim on their own private real estate only to be accosted by “friends” who wanted company? I’m glad I was alone on my deck in…
My Grandmother had died. We were planning her non-funeral and trying to determine what to put on a headstone. She wasn’t a religious woman. Nothing seemed right, all these pat phrases about healing and peace and joy. She was probably a little mad about dying, to tell you the truth. She wasn’t done watching her stories, or watching her grandson grow up. She was pretty much done with me, though, I’ll tell you that. My grandmother was a PISTOL, right up to the end. I went to great lengths not to cross her. She had everything wrote out, which my mother decided to blatantly disobey. She didn’t want her name in the paper under obituaries “because it ain’t nobody’s damn business when I die”, she didn’t want a funeral “because I don’t want anybody lookin’ at me while I’m layin’ there, dead” and she didn’t want a preacher “cause they’re all a bunch of liars.” Well. She swore she’d haunt us, but I didn’t think she would because she didn’t want to die in the house on account of me being afraid to live there. More on that in a minute. But mom wasn’t scared of her, and neither was Uncle Dale, so they conspired to give a memorial service. Nobody…
