I learned a long time ago frogs do make wonderful watchdogs and motion sensors. Rather than sounding the alarm like a watchdog it is their silence that warns you. Stepping outside at 4 am was the best way to decide how warm I was going to dress for the day. The early morning was cool… Read More Watch Frogs
You know those fleeting memories from childhood that make no sense until you mention them to an attending adult to fill in the story – this is one of those. It was a sunny afternoon. We were picnicking out in the foothills above Porterville. I have seen pictures of us out in the long… Read More An Old Rattlesnake
500 words “It’s raining now.” She whispered to the empty room. She listened, as the rain fell against the glass of the hospital window. Smiling memories of playing, dancing and walking in the rain, flooded her thoughts, her eyes closed against the starkness of her room. The machines clicked and beeped quietly around her but… Read More Going Home
The following stream I have broken up into a prose but if put all together it would look like a long, continuous single sentence paragraph. This stream is as I wrote it with all its grammatical naughties and no-nos. But I did correct misspelled words The new lines are not random in choice but are… Read More 5 Min Stream of Consciousness
Stream of consciousness writing is nothing more than clearing a space setting a timer and writing – without stopping, without punctuation and often without much sense or subject matter. The following stream I have broken up into a prose but if put all together it would look like a long, continuous single sentence paragraph. The… Read More 3min Stream of Consciousness
“I had another demon morning this morning, Doc. ” He wasn’t a medical doctor but he had a Ph.D. and Kristie had called him Doc from the first time they met. “I was on mental overload with all those stupid doubts and suspicions. Ugly little insane things they are.” Those things she referred to had… Read More Demon Mornings
Old pens and inky sprays. Weathered tips dance bout the days. Mental spews and fractal thoughts, Tie up the ends with spidery knots. Words emerge, a noun, a phrase, Sentences flow like grasshoppers graze. Paragraphs roll over mountainous cascades. So this is the way stories are laid.
-A Frau Totty Knochenspiel Story (2069 words) Now, Nora lived alone. She was still young and beautiful but very independent. Some of the village men had shown an interest but never got very far along from friendly conversation with her. There was not long after the incident with the boy that Nora had been approached… Read More The White Rooster’s Foot (Part 2)