One-Minute Writer - Message in a Bottle

Today's One-Minute Writing Prompt: Message in a Bottle

Write a message you'd like to put in a bottle, to be thrown in the ocean.

If you find this, know two things:

I am hopelessly lost at sea

and

I've finally found happiness, so don't come looking for me.

Musing Monday

Today's Musing Monday prompt:

Now that we’ve come to the middle of the year, what do you think of your 2009 reading so far? Read anything interesting that you’d like to share? Any outstanding favourites?

I've read 72 books so far this year and am halfway through the 73rd. Some of my favorites are:

Skin Trade by Laurell K. Hamilton

Pryes by Derek Nikitas

The Strain by Guillermo Del Toro and Chuck Hogan

Something's Rising by Silas House and Jason Howard

The Ruby Key by Holly Lisle

The Girl She Used To Be by David Cristofano

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

Strawberries

Today's Picture, Poetry and Prose prompt:

(Photograph by Don of Musings and Misc. Thoughts)


STRAWBERRIES

Strawberry jelly, strawberry jam
A yummy beginning to an ordinary day
Strawberry topped waffles on special occasions
Pop tarts with strawberry when on the run

Chocolate coated strawberries, strawberry pie
The perfect way to end the day
Delectable sweetness with erotic sensations
An intimate treat for same hearted lovers

Strawberry sundae, strawberry shake
Ice creamy tastes to freeze the brain
Strawberry wine will be just fine
Cool and refreshing as tensions wash away

Nature's sweet goodness in a natural package
Delicious off the vine, delicious from the market
So many ways to tap the sunshiny goodness
But only at peak ripeness during the spring month of May

The Way Back Machine

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixels Narratives)


THE WAY BACK MACHINE

"I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date." Those words kept echoing through Heather's head as she approached the weird attraction at the local fair. She had been coming to the traveling carnival every summer for as long as she could remember, first coming with her parents, and now at the age of 15 with a gaggle of her school friends.

The difference between school friends and best friends is the difference between junk food from McDonalds and a home cooked meal from your grandmother - one is surface friendship and the other goes deep into your soul. Heather had been a loner for most of her life, never acquiring that one special friend she could share her deepest darkest secrets with.

She did have a wide range of school friends and on the surface she seemed to be a popular teenager. She was never the butt of cruel jokes like poor little Isabella from her gym class. Isabella was from a poor family and couldn't afford to buy deodorant on a regular basis, so many times after class she was "ripe" from her workout, making her an obvious target. Heather would never admit she felt sorry for Isabella - to do so would make her as much a victim as Isabella.

Nor was Heather the target of nerd cruelty like Edgar. Edgar couldn't help it because he was the smartest kid at Conover High School, not just the smartest freshman, but the smartest in the entire school. Secretly, Heather admired the intelligence of Edgar, but again, she would never admit this, fearing retaliation from her so-called friends.

Standing before the carnival attraction, Heather was mesmerized with the vivid colors and jovial music coming from deep inside the structure. "Back in Time" - what Heather wouldn't do to go back in time and relive her early childhood. She would not make the mistake of falling in with the "IN" crowd, not even if it meant she would be teased and ridiculed mercilessly.

"Come on, Heather! We're all going in. This should be fun!" Marci, Queen Bee of the "IN" kids was beckoning for Heather to join them as they started into the "Way Back Machine."

"I'm coming, Marci. You go on, I'll be right behind you." Heather took a few tentative steps toward the entrance of the attraction.

"Suit yourself. But if you don't come on, everyone will know you're a 'fraidy cat," teased Marci, and with a flip of her long blond curls she ran into the "Way Back Machine."

"I am not a 'fraidy cat," mumbled Heather. She stepped up the door and looked at the numerous clocks adorning the front of the attraction.

"Back in time," she whispered. "Back in time. I wish to send my friends back in time." Heather closed her eyes and repeated these words over and over again, reaching into her jean's pocket and finding the purple crystal she always carried there. Taking the crystal into her tiny hand, she continued whispering, "Back in time, back in time ..."

When Heather opened her eyes, the clock faces near the attraction door were different and the clock hands were rapidly moving counter clockwise. Suddenly, from deep inside the traveling carnival's "Way Back Machine," screams could be heard. Heather jumped back as the carnival workers started running around.

"Did you hear that? Did it come from the machine? Did anyone see what happened?" Heather was ordered to back away from the attraction and she dutifully filed out with other customers in line.

For a long time, nothing seemed to be happening, so Heather walked over to the cotton candy booth next door to the "Way Back Machine" and bought a bright pink fluff of candy. As she stood within eyesight of the entrance to the attraction, she couldn't help but chuckle under her breath as the carnival workers emerged with five young children in tow.

"Who let these kids into the ride?" shrieked the grizzly man in front of her. "Gunter, so find the Constable or the police or someone. These kids are too young to have been left alone. They're not even tall enough to enter the machine even with an adult!" The grizzly man ushered the five kids to the bench near the tiny ticket booth.

The kids looked to be about three years old and all five were crying. Heather stared at them and then started to laugh. At first the laugh was a tiny chuckle from deep inside, but soon it spilled out of her and danced along the hot breeze blowing through the carnival. She turned to walk away, licking her pink fingers after another bite of cotton candy.

From the bench behind her, the little girl with long blond curls began to cry even harder.

James Baker Hall

KET will be airing a 2002 program featuring the late James Baker Hall Sunday, June 28 at 10:30/9:30 p.m. CT on KET1. LIVING BY WORDS, a 90-minute KET documentary, is the story of five good friends who also happen to be five of Kentucky's best-loved authors: Bobbie Ann Mason , Wendell Berry, Gurney Norman, Ed McClanahan and James Baker Hall . It is a celebration of creative writing, and in particular of the Creative Writing Program at the University of Kentucky, which all five writers attended in the 1950s and '60s.

James will be greatly missed by all Kentuckians.

RIP James Baker Hall
April 14, 1935 - June 25, 2009

Lessons Unlearned

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixels Narratives.)

LESSONS UNLEARNED

He loves me, he loves me not
Why does it always boil down to the same thing
A woman gives her heart freely and without hesitation
But a man gives his until the next one rolls around

Whatever happened to love at first sight
In sickness and in health, till death do us part
Forsaking all others is shattered with the new slice of bread in town
Leaving a trail of broken hearts like bread crumbs on the ground

Will women never learn the lesson handed down from one another
Once a cheat, always a cheat, at least in the eyes of the beholder
Heartache is a messy affair, like vengeance best served cold
But the warm fuzzies of lasting love can still scorch a heart with its heat

(With all the unfidelity scandals rocking the political world the past few weeks, I thought this was appropriate)

Broken

BROKEN


I didn't want it to happen
I never dreamed it would
But I feel us growing apart
No longer lovers entwined as one
Now we're more like siblings with limited toleration all around


When did the distance grow
Was it something I could have stopped
Or did I contribute to my own loneliness
By burying my soul so far from the surface
Wallowing in grief and all encompassing self-degradation


I thought we'd always be together
But now I'm not so sure
And the thought of leaving your side is a stabbing double-edged sword
You are and always will be my one and only soul mate
But I have other needs you seem to be ignoring


I'm not sure I have the will to start my life again
I've been through a lifetime of difficult change
I no longer have the will to break free from the absorbing routine
I can't stand the thought of change
But will my soul survive if the change never comes

Serenity Mountain

Today's One-Minute Writing Prompt: Mountain
Recall a memory involving a mountain.

Good morning Serenity Mountain. I just had the best few hours of sleep, curled up in my favorite recliner at our favorite cabin smack dab in the middle of the Great Smokey Mountains! I love coming here on vacation—even if I’m never still when I’m here. Just being here sheds an entirely different light on my life. We are miles and miles from the parkway in Pigeon Forge, so everything appears to run in slow motion, like a nice gentle brook over the smooth rocks that form a small creek. I am surrounded by God’s wonderful nature and I feel peaceful and more relaxed.

On this trip we had just turned all the lights on downstairs when I turned around and a baby squirrel ran into the house and straight into the first bedroom. The blue room is one of two bedrooms on the basement level of the house, along with the pool room and the remainder of the garage.Hubby ran into the blue bedroom and clapped his hands; the noise startled the squirrel and he ran into the pool room and inside the fireplace. The squirrel had hit a dead-end and was trying to claw its way into the wall. I could just see it now, "Crazy Family Visit Cabin — Let Squirrel Tear Up House." Hubby clapped his hands again and the squirrel ran out and headed back to the blue bedroom. Clap-clap—the squirrel is headed for me at the door, but it becomes confused and runs into the corner formed by the open door and the wall. As Hubby closed in on the little critter, the squirrel high tailed it into the green bedroom. Clap-clap—the squirrel is herded under the pool table. Clap-clap—with much encouragement from me waving a pillow — I picked this up off the couch to protect myself with — in the right direction and Hubby right behind the squirrel clapping his hands, the squirrel finally ran out the opened door into the night.We both started laughing. I had already worked up a sweat and we haven’t been here ten minutes yet. I sure hope this is not an indication of what’s to come for the rest of our trip.

I need to carve out traditions in the hardwood of my life. I need to make an impression. I want to be recognized and compensated for my time and effort, but I want it to be in a realistic way. No lies, jut the truth and the soul. My family really is were its all about.I want the life in me to be so strong it reflects on the people in my life. Serenity Mountain helps me take stock of my life and realize that all I have ever needed is right outside my back door. I don’t need modern conveniences to make me happy or help me feel closer to God. God lives in nature, not a golden castle; Serenity Mountain helps me but my life back into prospective.

School Bus Memories

(Today's Picture-Poetry-Prose prompt: photo by Simply Heather of Simply Joyful Photos)
Suggested prompt...Write creatively using a memory from your elementary school days. Would love for you to have one with a bus in it, but some of you may not have taken a bus.

School Bus Memories

My school bus memories revolve around sitting and talking with my best friend, Damon. When I was in high school, most of my good friends were guys, and Damon was the best of the best. Although we hung out together often after school, it was the long school bus rides to and from school that I relished.

The only problem is, my boyfriend was so obnoxiously jealous, he hated for me to talk to Damon. Although he and Damon were very good friends, my ex couldn't stand the fact I enjoyed talking with another boy. I'm ashamed to admit it, but Damon and I used to get off the bus at school separately, because my ex was always waiting for me to get off the bus. We would sit on the side of the bus opposite to where he would be waiting and then Damon would get off before me; I would wait until the bus was almost empty before getting off.

Ah, the things we think we have to do for love! In hindsight, my high school sweetheart/ex-husband was one of the biggest regrets of my life. The only good thing to come out of this abusive relationship was my oldest two daughters. I wouldn't trade my girls for anything in the world.

One-Minute Writer - Bed

Today's One-Minute Writing Prompt: Bed
Linda Evangelista said she wouldn't get out of bed for less than $10,000.What makes you get out of bed each morning?

I get out of bed every day because I have to in order to stay in my home. I'm from a working class family and I need to be at my job every day in order to pay the bills. It's not because I want to, it's because I have to.

Of course, I didn't get up until 1:00 this afternoon! After the stress of the big wedding this weekend, I took a mental health day at work in order to catch up on sleep. I've had little to no sleep for almost a week. It was great to be able to sleep without worrying about a deadline!

The Wedding

I know this is my writing blog, but I thought maybe everyone would like to see some of the wedding photos. My oldest daughter, Amber Dawn Huffman, married Jason Matthew Wilham in a double ring ceremony at Pioneer Baptist Church in Harrodsburg. This are the photos my wonderful hubby took of the big day. As soon as the photographer's photos are available, I'll post a few of these.

This is a photo of Amber's dress taken just before the wedding. Her dress was gorgeous!

From Rightmyer Rants

Another back view of the beautiful gown.

From Rightmyer Rants

My 3 beautiful daughters: Christine, Amber and Marie

From Rightmyer Rants

Another view of the back of Amber's gown

From Rightmyer Rants

My favorite "candid" photo - not many people knew Amber was barefoot under her gown, so this is a picture of her cute toes peeking out from under the gown.

From Rightmyer Rants

The entire wedding party

From Rightmyer Rants

Mr. and Mrs. Jason Wilham - June 20, 2009

From Rightmyer Rants

The couple leaving the church

From Rightmyer Rants

The Wedding cake and groom's cake

From Rightmyer Rants

Throwing the bridal bouquet - my youngest daughter bet the middle one to catch the bouquet

From Rightmyer Rants

Removing the garter - not many people knew that Amber's present to Jason was tucked in her garter - tickets to see Hank Williams, Jr. on July 4th. Needless to say, he was surprised.

From Rightmyer Rants

Temporary Insanity

Sorry guys, but I'm pleading temporary insanity for the rest of the weekend. If I don't post anything again by Monday morning, someone come looking for me - I may need you to bail me out of jail or cart me off to Eastern State.

Wedding, wedding, wedding, wedding ... bet you can't guess what's on my mind!

The Harrodsport Chronicles

(Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixel Narratives)

(This is an excerpt from book #1 of my work in progress, The Harrodsport Chronicles)

“There is no such thing as real ghosts,” said Charlie. “My parents said they were figments of the imagination.”

“Not here they aren’t. There are real ghosts at Rosewood Manor; I’ve seen them.” Daniel looked around the room. “I’ve never seen one in here, but I’ve seen them other places in the house.”

"Where,” asked Charlie.

“Mostly in the attic. I’m not supposed to go in the attic, but sometimes I like going up there just to get away from Ms. Summers.”

“What do the ghosts look like?” Charlie couldn’t believe she was actually having this conversation.

“Well, it’s only one ghost I’ve actually seen – Claudia. She’s one of my great, great ancestors or something. She’s really nice, not scary like you’d think a ghost would be.”

“Are you just saying this to scare me?” asked Charlie.

“No, I’m serious. But I’ve never heard Claudia crying. Usually she just shows up when I’m upset and need someone to talk to. She doesn’t talk to me, just stands around and watched me. She’s very pretty. Would you like to see a picture of her?” Daniel got up and walked over to one of the bookcases. He pulled a large leather volume off the third shelf.

“There’s actually a picture of her in that book?” Charlie had the feeling Daniel was trying to make fun of her.

“Yeah, this is one of the family history books. I told you, Claudia is some type of ancestor.” He opened the book and started flipping through the pages. He stopped at a picture of a beautiful young woman. Smoothing the page, he turned the book toward Charlie.

“Here she is, Claudia Harrod. She the old clothes she’s wearing? That’s what she usually has on when I see her.” The picture showed a young woman with dark hair piled on top of her head, ringlets hanging down to her shoulders. Her eyes were a piercing green, wide and innocent looking. The dress she was wearing was fancy with layer after layer of lace and ruffles.

“She’s very pretty,” said Charlie.

“Yeah, for a girl,” replied Daniel.

“Has anyone ever seen her beside you,” asked Charlie.“Nah, I used to mention it to my dad and Aunt Elizabeth, but they thought I was making up stories again. They’re always accusing me of making up stories. I guess sometimes, I do, but not about this. Claudia is real.” He closed the book and returned it to the bookshelf.

One-Minute Writer - Hindsight

Today's One-Minute Writing Prompt: Hindsight
Complete this thought:Since "hindsight is 20/20," I now know that....


... my ex-husband and his family are all crazy! I may have 2 beautiful daughters with this man, but I wish I had known the truth a little earlier - it would have saved me a lot of heartache.

On the bright side, I've been with my current hubby for almost 25 years and we are still happily married. My ex, he's on his 4th wife ... feel sorry for her because he doesn't stick with anyone for longer than 7 years. He is a true case of severe "7 year itch!"

I Loved Him Once

I LOVED HIM ONCE

I loved him once, until he turned into an ass. How could I have been so stupid? I wasted my high school years catering to his every need and whim. It didn't matter if I had academic team practice, if he wanted to go to the city right after school, I blew off my team mates with even an explanation. This kind of thing happened over and over again.

I took a deep breath and started brushing my footprints off the old dirt road with a sycamore branch, feeling almost like Daniel Boone disguising a trail from the Indians. The air was thick with humidity and my damp hair clung to the nape of my neck.

"He'll be sorry he treated me like trast," I mumbled under my breath. "I'll really hit him where it hurts."

Flipping open my cell phone, I called my best friend. "I'm ready when you are. Go ahead and call him."

"Okey dokey, girlfriend. You sure you want to do this?"

I paused for the briefest moment, then said, "Yeah, I'm ready as I'll ever be."

Hanging up the phone, I sung my backpack over one shoulder and hiked down the dirt road. Reaching the truck parked near overflow pond at the county rock quarry, I opened the truck door and grabbed a handful of CDs and threw them carelessly on the ground. Hank Williams, Jr., Keith Urban, and Garth Brooks went sailing across the dusty road. Then I took his favorite John Deer hat and threw it into the bushes.

Sitting down in the truck seat with one leg in and one leg out, I shifted into neutral and released the parking brake. I got out, slammed the door shut and using my fluffy little body, started to push the truck toward the pond. Because the road was angled downhill toward the pond, the truck was quickly rolling on its own. I stepped back and with an evil grin I watched his pride and joy go over the side and into the pond.

Then I ran to the clump of trees near by and shimmed up as fast as I could. Reaching the safest point, I pulled my video camera out of my backpack and waited.

He was the one who taught me how to hunt, so I knew I was well hidden from preying eyes. He was also the one who taught me, "Payback's a bitch."

Water Off A Duck's Back

Today's Pictures-Poetry-Prose prompt:

Photo by Brett Trafford of 365 to 42)

Suggested Prompt...Give her a name and give her a story or poem.
Jemima Puddleduck?

WATER OFF A DUCK'S BACK

If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck
It must be a duck

If it swims like a fish and breaths like a fish
It must be a fish

If it barks like a dog and chews like a dog
It must be a dog

If it meows like a cat and sleeps like a cat
It must be a cat

If it looks like a human and acts like a human
Never, ever believe they are a normal human

Humans can be
Sarcastically catty
Mean as a dog
Slippery as a fish
Clueless like a duck

Being a human can sometimes be underrated
Or very worthwhile and appreciated
Lonely, hollow, self-deprecating
Friendly, happy, and very loved

Too many humans worry
Too many stress
Instead of letting problems go
Like water off a duck's back

Anticipation

Cafe Writing - Option Two - Timed Writing

“Well,” said Pooh, “what I like best — ” and then he had to stop and think. Because although Eating Honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn’t know what it was called.
~A. A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

Take seven minutes (use all seven, but don’t go over), and write on the subject of anticipation. This is a timed exercise and it’s expected that it won’t be perfect. Any format - fiction, essay, verse - is welcome.

Anticipation

Anticipation
'Tis the nature of the beast
Waiting and wondering
When the right time will be
The butter's not ready yet
The bread hasn't risen
And the jelly's not jelled
But when they all come together
What a merry meal it'll be

Let Us Have Cake

Cafe Writing - Option One - Fiction

The Queen said, “Oh!” And went to His Majesty: “Talking of the butter for The Royal slice of bread, Many people Think that Marmalade Is nicer. Would you like to try a little Marmalade Instead?”
~A. A. Milne, “The King’s Breakfast”

Using the above quotation as your inspiration, write a flash-fic, scene, or short story involving breakfast.

Let Us Have Cake

Time to eat
It's breakfast time
"No, you can't have chocolate cake"
I say in my sternest mother voice
The whines, the cries, the very fake pouting
Will not change my mind
Oh, please be good
Or at least be quiet
I can't stand to see you unhappy
I stop and think
Will it matter in 10 years
"Okay, let us both have cake"

One-Minute Writer - Mail

Today's One-Minute Writing Prompt: Mail

Tomorrow you get the mail, and in it you find the best letter you can imagine. What does it say?



Dear Bobbi,

We are pleased to inform you that we would like to buy the rights to your book, THE BABY BONES. We anticipate a million copy first run and would like to go into production as soon as possible. Someone from our office will be contacting you soon.

Congratulations,

Little, Brown Publishing

Musing Monday

Today's Musing Monday prompt: Do you feel compelled to read prize-winning (Giller/Booker/Pulitzer etc) books? Why, or why not? Is there, perhaps, one particular award that you favour? (question courtesy of MizB)

I don't choose reading material based on awards won, simply because I've read many, many books that I thought deserved awards but never received them. Many times, my book club will choose award winning books to review, so I do read a few, but it is not a large factor in the books I personally choose to read.


However, if I do choose a book based on an award, it would have to be the Newbery Medal for children/young adult literature. The Graveyard Book - by Neil Gaiman - is the latest John Newbery Medal winner I read and I absolutely loved this book. I have a great passion for children/young adult books and in recent years, this category makes up the largest majority of my reading material.

Complicated Layers

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixels Narratives. If you have not checked out Dan's blog, you need to pop right over - he has some wonderful photographs.)

COMPLICATED LAYERS

Straddling the line between this world and that
The worlds are drawn together in relative uneasy safety
But are they safe, are they unobserved, blissfully unaware
Of the dark lurking menance living down below

We like to think there is only one world
But in all actuality the world is full of complicated layers
Can one exist without the other, we like to think that's true
Secure in our superiority, it's this logic that will be our downfall

Normandi Ellis

Normandi Ellis - Kentucky author, Berea College teacher and Editor of Berea College Magazine - was the guest speaker at The Advanced Writer Workshop, lead by Tony Sexton on Tuesday, June 9, 2009 at the Mercer County Public Library. She offered the class a "jump start" - a prompt to help start the writing process - in addition to talking about the publishing aspect of writing. She also read several passages from two of her books.

For more information on Normandi Ellis you can visit her website here.

Jade and the Storm

One-Minute Writer Friday Fiction: Storm

Write a brief, fictional piece involving a storm.



JADE AND THE STORM

Jade stood on the small deck of the studio apartment she now shared with her Earth friend Michael. Since arriving on Earth, Jade had tried to blend in and Michael was the first friend she had adopted. She knew in order to learn the most information about Earth, she would have to have friends to show her around.

The day of her transport to Earth, Jade had walked out of the mountains and right into the path of Michael and his candy apple red 1968 Mustang. Jade had learned about cars in her studies with the Elders on Jadocon, but she had been surprised when she actually saw one up close and personal.

In that brief second when the car hit her on her left side, she had dropped her glamour and Michael saw her true form. Fortunately for her, he thought he was seeing things. Jade had not been hurt. Although she was not an immortal, it took more than being hit with a large motorized vehicle to do damage to her body.

Now, as Jade looked up at the impending storm, she felt the electricity in the air. Storms on Jadocon mainly consisted of great whirlwinds of dust and dirt. Here on Earth a storm meant light shows in the sky, rain smacking your face and wind blowing around your body. Stormy days were her favorite days, and now that Michael had shown her how to check the weather radar on television, she had some warning before a storm hit.

"I should have known I'd find you out here," said Michael as he walked out onto the deck. "I've never seen anyone who loved storms as much as you."

"It's just so beautiful," replied Jade. "You can feel the energy in the air. It's like the storm is alive, a living entity." The wind whipped her long hair around her face.

"If you say so. You always act like each storm is the first time you've ever seen one."

"They are, I mean, each storm is different. No two are ever alike." The first fat raindrops were starting to fall from the darkening sky.

"Well, here comes the rain. You'd better come inside." He gave her a peck on the cheek and then leaned his forehead to her forehead. "You are one strange girl, Jade; you know that, don't you?"

"Yes, I know; you tell me every day." She smiled at him, but didn't take her eyes of the approaching storm. "I'll come inside in a minute."

"Suit yourself. You up for breakfast?" Michael was now standing half on the deck, half in the kitchen.

"Yes, that would be nice."

Frantic patterns of light streaked across the sky, glowing behind the dark clouds like signals from the Gods. Although Jade's mission on Earth was for 10 years, she would never be able to describe the pure beauty of a thunderstorm to the Elders. The water on Jadocon bubbled up from the planet's core; the water on Earth rained down from the sky.

Jade walked to the edge of the deck, and bracing her abdomen against the railing, she leaned over into the air and let the rain wash over her. She turned her face up to the sky and welcomed the power of the storm.

From inside the apartment, Michael was mesmerized by the sight of Jade in the rain. It looked like she was worshipping the rain and the wind as both poured over her. In between flashes of lightning, Michael thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, because with each bright light, he would have sworn he saw some kind of green Goddess standing in the rain instead of his new friend, Jade.

One-Minute Writer - Relative

Today's One-Minute Writing Prompt: Relative

If you were to invite one relative to live with you permanently, who would it be?

Currently, that would be my mother-in-law. She turns 85 on Sunday, and although she loves living alone, she is unable to keep up with the day to day running of her 2-story home. I would love to see her sell her home, then we could build a studio apartment onto our home for her. It would make all our lives simpler.

One-Minute Warning - Signal

Today's One-Minute Writing Prompt: Signal

Think of the biggest goal or dream you have. Is life giving you a red, yellow, or green light?


The biggest dream AND goal I have right now is to get a book published. This year, life is giving me a green light. I am working on several books: 2 young adult novels, one adult novel and a memoir.

For the past few years, as I've wallowed in the pits of grief, I've been telling myself there is no audience for the stuff I write. With the help of my writing group, I am coming out of hiding and reentering the land of the living. With their encouragement - and the encouragement of my family - I feel my goal is finally within reach.

Since the beginning of this year, I have knuckled down and am making progress on everything I'm working on. Unfortunately, good intentions don't make my ADD any better - I still can't work on just one project at a time, but this is the system that works best for me.

Keeping my fingers crossed and on the keyboard ...


... to be continued ...

They Waited

(Photo by Dani of Golden Tears of Joy)

Suggested prompt...They waited for...

THEY WAITED

They waited for daybreak
To start a long search
Flying and hunting
They're left in a lurch

They waited for family
Cousins, uncles and aunts
A huge flocked colony
Trying to fill the same pants

They waited for twilight
To end the long day
Exhausted from flying
They are now home to stay

I waited for the nusiances
To land up high in my tree
A nightly ritual of off-tune songs
And a rain of poop I really don't like to see

They waited for something
'Cause all was too still
Then boom - boom - boom
My noisemaker fit the bill

Extra, Extra, Read All About It

(Photo by Kathryn Photography)

Suggested prompt...Write your own news story for something that happened to you this past month... who, what, where, when, why


Extra, Extra, Read All About It ....

AP - Middle-aged wife and mother of 3 holds ex-husband and his family at gunpoint ....

A small town, Kentucky ... Mrs. Bobbi Boop is accused of holding her ex-husband and his family at gunpoint after the wedding reception of her oldest daughter, Princess Dawn. According to eyewitnesses, Boop had been severely stressed about the pending nuptials of her daughter, knowing she would have to spend most of the day and evening in the presence of her ex-husband, Ronald McDonald. Boop and McDonald went through a bitter and nasty divorce over 25 years ago, but they share two daughters, Princess Dawn and Princess Carolyn.

When police arrived at the scene, Boop's ex-family were corralled in a back room and made to strip down to their underwear while having a small handgun pointed at them. At one point, Boop is accused of throwing eggs from the refrigerator at each person, screaming, "Now you all have egg on your face."

Boop eventually surrendered her gun to her current husband, Mr. Boop. After an intensive police interrogation, Boop was bound in a straight jacket and carted off to Crackers & Liars Loony Bin. Her family denied all requests for an interview. The family of McDonald can be seen on the next addition of The Jerry Springer Show.

This has actually been my nightmare for the past few weeks, so if you get a phone call from me late at night on June 20th, I'll probably be looking for bail money ....

One-Minute Writer - Graduation

Today's One-Minute Writing Prompt: Graduation

What one piece of advice would you give to someone graduating from a college or university?

(Photo by Bee Spit)

Go forth and leave your mark on the world, but don't take life too seriously. It is very easy to get bogged down in the mundane, day-to-day tasks of living. If you can't enjoy the fruits of your labor, why work so hard to get the fruits? Take time every day to smell the roses, kiss your significant other, tell your family you love them, 'cause you never know when these things will be taken away.

You've already proven you are a success - a college degree consists of many hard years of work and sacrifice. Now prove you know how to enjoy life to its fullest - use the brains God gave you to help improve the lives of others. Life is not about who can grab the brass ring the fastest - it's about the one who can grab it and then pass it around.

One-Minute Writer - Movie

Today's One-Minute Writing Prompt:Movie

Write a one-minute synopsis of a movie you'd like to see, or like to make.

Of course, the movie I'm waiting on this summer is HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE, but since almost everyone on the planet knows about Harry, I decided not to write about this one.


However, I would love to see Neil Gaiman's THE GRAVEYARD BOOK turned into a movie. Boy is stalked by killer and escapes to a nearby graveyard. Boy's parents are killed, but the inhabitants of the graveyard rally around boy and raise him as their own. Boy lives happily in the graveyard until he is made to realize he needs to be among the land of the living. His time in the "happy" graveyard are coming to an end.

This movie could incorporate all kinds of cool special effects, makeup and cinemotography. It is all not too scary, considering the first words of the book are:

There was a hand in the darkness and it held a knife.

The Twilight Dance

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixels Narratives. If you have not checked out Dan's blog, you need to pop right over - he has some wonderful photographs.)

THE TWILIGHT DANCE

At dusk they come to twitter and stand
Awaiting the music of the twilight dance
Dressed and frocked from years gone by
Eager to breech the veil between worlds

As the crickets start chirping and the bullfrogs croak
A tentative first couple steps onto the grassy floor
Now the fireflies are flashing to the rhythm of yesteryear
And more couples come stepping into the light

I wonder about the lives of these people
Who only appear with the dusk
Were their lives difficult and hard
Or did they have laughter and love to spare

The dancing continues like shadows all around
The Minuet, a Waltz, a chastely kissed gloved hand
Giggles, smiles, and friendship all around
And whispered promises for more twilight dances to come

Musing Monday

Today’s MUSING MONDAYS post is about reading time…

Do you have a set reading time (before bed, perhaps)? Do you read more at night or during the day? Is there a day of the week, perhaps, that you set aside to catch up on reading?



I really don't have a certain reading time, because for me, any spare time is always reading time. I naturally read just before bedtime, but I run into the same problem as Rebecca - many times I get caught up in the book and have to finish reading, sacrificing sleep for a storyline.

Many times I try to read in the mornings, but this can also cause me problems. I've used the excuse, "Sorry, I overslept" way too many times, all because I just had to finish one more chapter.

The hour before I start cooking supper at night is the one hour every day I know I will be reading. The job is over, housework is done and the nightly news is on - my blissful time of day. I can read with one ear on the news, and my hubby usually gives me a 30 minute warning before he is due home. This warning gives me enough time to finish cooking supper, especially if I've gotten caught up in my reading.

I always carry a book with me, so I can capture snippets of "waiting" reading time: in traffic, in the doctor's office, at kids' activities, at the train tracks (I live in a small town, which is totally cut off when a train blows through town), or any other place I may have to wait.

Reading is like everything else, if you love to do it, like I do, then you will carve out any little niche in order to catch some reading time.

Crane

(Photo by Lorelei visit her photo gallary and her blog)

Suggested prompt...Offer a haiku for a crane. Haiku is a poem consisting of three lines of 5-7-5 syllabals each.

CRANE

David Carradine
The Kung Fu master has died
Crane flies into sky

An Evening With Normandi Ellis

The Advanced Writer Workshop - lead by Harrodsburg's own Tony Sexton - and The Community of Mercer County Writers will be hosting Normandi Ellis as our guest speaker on Tuesday, June 9, 2009 at 7pm at the Mercer County Public Library. It is very exciting to be hosting this wonderful Kentucky Writer.

Books by Normandi Ellis:


Dreams of Isis

Awakening Osiris

Feasts of Light

Fresh-fleshed Sisters

Sorrowful Mysteries and Other Stories




She is also the editor of the Berea College Magazine

The Kelpie Chronicles

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixels Narratives)


The Kelpie Khronicles

Excerpt of Chapter One


If you had asked Michael Winters last year what he would be doing this year, he would have answered turning 16, attending high school in the city with his friends, and starring on the Louisville Central Tigers basketball team. His younger sister, Lucy, would be a typical seventh grader, even though at age 12, she was smaller than most children her age.

But no one had asked Michael about his dreams. No one had asked Michael about anything concerning the future of him or his little sister. No one has asked him about leaving his childhood home behind, the home he had lived in since he was born. No one asked him about moving from the fast paced city to the virtual stillness of the country. No one had asked Lucy these questions, either.

All the grownups in the two children’s lives just assumed the children would be happy no matter where they lived.

Susan and Stephen Winters, parents to Michael and Lucy, had been killed by a drunk driver on their way home from a Christmas party two weeks ago. The New Year was bringing, not only a new year, but a new life for the two children. Unable to continue living in their childhood home, Michael and Lucy were being sent to live with their only living relative, great aunt Wendy. Aunt Wendy was the only aunt to Susan Winters, but the children had only met her once, when Michael was four and Lucy was a newborn. Neither child had any concept of who this aunt was.

“Where have all the buildings gone?” Lucy asked her brother, as the car they were riding in turned off the main highway onto a single lane gravel road. They had been on the road for almost two hours, but after the first hour, all the buildings seemed to disappear only to be replaced with brown trees and shrubs.

“We’re in the country now, Luc,” replied Michael. “There aren’t going to be any skyscrapers, just trees and small houses.” He looked out the window in loathing at the landscape surrounding them.

~~~~

Having no other relatives, friends of the Winters’ – John and Mary Settles – had taken Michael and Lucy in until permanent arrangements could be made. Because the children were out of school for the Christmas break, they hadn’t had to deal with all the questions from friends and teachers at school, and this was a huge relief.

At the reading of the will, Michael and Lucy learned they had inherited the remainder of the Winters’ estate, not a large estate, but enough for the children to be able to live comfortably until adulthood. This is also when they learned Aunt Wendy had been named their new guardian. Mr. and Mrs. Settles explained to the children they would be moving to their aunt’s farm in western Kentucky and the move would be made before school resumed in the New Year.

Gone were the long walks down the busy streets of Louisville. Gone were the parks and theaters of their childhood. Gone was the home they had both grown up in. The day Lucy learned of their fate, she had wept uncontrollably for several hours and nothing Michael did would cheer her up.

Now they were traveling down a rustic gravel road, heading to a fate unknown, heading for a new life they knew nothing about.

After three miles on the gravel road, they again turned off, this time onto a hard packed dirt road. The bare trees and shrubs seemed to be crowding in on Michael and Lucy as the car slowed down to a crawl.

Instinctively, Lucy moved closer to Michael and he put his arm protectively around her shoulder.

“It’ll be okay, Lucy. Don’t worry; I’ll be here to protect you.” But Michael wasn’t sure if he believed these words anymore. He was starting to get butterflies – no, flocks of geese – in his stomach. He felt like his heart was beating out of his chest and his palms began to sweat.

As the car slowed to a snail’s pace the weathered farmhouse finally came into view.

“It’s so big and old,” moaned Lucy. “We can’t live in that old house. What if it’s haunted?” Lucy buried her head into Michael’s chest.

“It can’t be haunted, Lucy. There’s no such thing as ghosts or goblins.”

“Yes, there are. Hogwarts is full of ghost.” Harry Potter was Lucy’s favorite fictional character and she loved everything about him, even his fictional home in the castle of Hogwarts.

“Hogwarts is not a real place, Lucy. How many times do Mom and … how many times do I have to tell you that?” He winced as the words came out of his mouth because they were harsher than he had intended, and also because he hadn’t meant to evoke his parent’s names. Right on cue, Lucy responded with a new wave of silent tears.

He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “I’m sorry, Lucy. Don’t cry; things will be fine.” But the hesitation in his voice did little to convince either of them that things would be alright.

The house was three stories tall, covered with peeling green siding. The dormers near the top of the house had the same peeling siding, only this was colored yellow. There were four red chimneys visible from the road, two of them covered with vines which seemed to be taking over large portions of the house and there were red shutters on each visible window. There was a large wrap around porch and Michael could see two swings hanging in two corners of the porch.

“It’s not too bad, Luc. Look, there are swings on the porch for you and Mr. Tibbles.” Mr. Tibbles was Lucy’s fat cat, a large gray Siamese with a raccoon striped tail. Mr. Tibbles had been with Lucy since she was three years old. He was currently riding in his cat carrier which was in the U-Haul trailer hooked to the back of Mr. Settles’ car. Mr. Settles was allergic to cats, so Mr. Tibbles had been made to ride in the trailer.

As the car pulled to a stop in front of the house, Michael could see Aunt Wendy standing in the front door. As she started down the sidewalk, Michael opened his door and stepped out into the country air for the first time.

Linear Shadows

LINEAR SHADOWS


Linear shadows, like perfect straight lines along the grass
Matching the length of the white wooden fence
As it serves a double line of protection for the animals it keeps

Thoroughbreds, saddle horses, even a nag or two
Lord over the pastures like the golden children of summer
While cattle and sheep and goats galore live the life of misfits

Moving along in my traveling life, I treasure the straight lines I can follow
Not having to worry about twisting and turning
I can allow my thoughts to wander while not giving a thought to where I walk

Linear shadows, though plain and simple
Can give the crammed full brain a much needed rest
And the body can move along of its own accord.

Jade's Escape

From My Muse and Me

(Photo by Rick of Weekend Wordsmith)


JADE'S ESCAPE

She opened the back door of the small shack and an involuntary gasp escaped her lips. The back of this godforsaken place was a sheer cliff dropping of into nothingness.

"What the hell and I going to do know," Jade mumbled to herself. Her life on Earth had been going smoothly for the past eight eons - eight human years - but now her life felt like it had been turned on its head.

Her best Earth friend, Devan, had tried to warn her about the conspiracy fanatics in San Francisco, but she choose not to believe him. She had grown accustomed to the cushy mission she though she had on Earth. Only two more eons to go and she could return home to Jadocon.

But that was before Devan had been killed. Jade now knew her life was in danger, because if she had followed her plans, she would have been with Devan when he was killed. Now she was on the run from a group of unknown people who only had one thing in mind - to wipe her off the face of the Earth.

This old cabin had been in Devan's family for almost one hundred years. Although Devan went to the cabin often when he was a little boy, no one had ventured down the narrow country road for several years.

Jade had never been to the cabin, but she had been able to scan Devan's mind and learn all about the cabin. Jade was not able to read all the Earthling's minds, and this greatly frustrated her because she was depending on this sense to help her on her ten year mission.

When Devan had been killed, Jade had felt the instant connection with death and she had not liked it. Jadocian's were not immortal, but they had such a infinitesimal life span, death was not something they gave much thought to. That brief glimpse of death seen through Devan's dying eyes had been enough to deeply frighten Jade.

She had packed her few belongings and left immediately for the cabin. Stopping at a small convenience store 20 miles out of town, Jade stocked up on things she thought she might need - batteries, bottled water, matches and candles. While the store clerk was in the backroom checking for more double A batteries, Jade picked up his police ban radio behind the counter and slipped it into her backpack.

Back on the road, Jade had tuned in the local and state police departments and listened for any indication the police may be looking for her. Now that she knew the bad men Devan had warned her about were true, she was going to have to figure out how to escape their clutches and finish up the last two eons of her mission.

This morning, she had been awakened by a squeak over the police radio. Sitting up in the darkness with only the glow of a waning full moon, Jade gave her full attention to the radio.

When she heard someone mention Devan's family's cabin, Jade knew she had to move. Devan's car was parked about two miles away from the cabin and she had covered it with loose brush to keep it from being seen by passing local yokels. Throwing her supplies into the backpack, she raced to the back door.

So there she was staring at the steepness of the rock pathway leading away from the cabin. Taking a deep breath, she closed the door behind her and started down the slippery rocks.

Three steps down, turn to the left. Four more steps down, turn to the right. In addition to being a steep climb down, whoever had layed out the trail decided a straight path was not the way to go. But she kept moving, five steps turn to the left, four steps back to the right. Looking behind her, Jade was surprised she could not see the cabin above her.

"Maybe the person who built this cabin and path was as much a conspiracy theorist as the people chasing me." Only pausing briefly after 20 minutes of steady downhill climbing, Jade finally made it to the end of the pathway. She had no idea how far down she had climbed, but she had come to a small wooden dock at the end of the path. There was a weathered boat with two oars tied to the dock.

It looked like the boat hadn't been touched for years and Jade had a feeling it probably wouldn't hold her weight. She sat down on the dock to get a closer look at the boat. It looked sound, at least there was only a small puddle of water in the bottom of the boat. Since there had been rain yesterday afternoon, Jade figured the water was from the rain instead of a hole in the bottom of the boat.

Jade closed her eyes and tried to mediate, but being so close to a body of water, she was having trouble concentrating. Although she had faced her fear of water numerous times while on Earth, she was nowhere near being cured of this life-long phobia.

Just when Jade had finally made up her mind to forget the boat and the water and to go back up the pathway and try to make it to the car, she heard a man's sharp clear voice at the top of the hill.

"Someone's been here recently! See how some of the grasses leading down this trail are bent over. Gather the men and follow me. I'm heading down this way!"

Jade could faintly hear heavy footsteps on the slippery stones above. Calculating the 30 minutes it had taken her to reach the bottom and the fast way someone else was coming down, Jade knew she didn't have much time.

Scooping up her backpack, she gingerly climbed into the boat and untied it from the dock. Breathing deeply, she picked up both oars and slowly started moving the boat out into the water. It was still faintly dark and a heavy bank of fog had rolled over the river, so Jade was thankful for not being able to see the water around her.

Slowly and silently she edged the boat further and further away from the bank, easing the oars quietly, but forcefully into the water. Many minutes passed, and Jade was beginning to feel confident she had escaped the people wishing to do her harm.

Until the following words froze her blood like a Popsicle, "There she is! Over here, over here! We've got her now!"

Pink Flairs

(Photo by Highlander)

PINK FLAIRS

Her world revolved in ever swirling shades of pink
Lipstick, cotton candy, a Shirley Temple rose
Blush and bashful, flirty and seductive
They called to the very heart of her vain little soul

Never content to be a wallflower babe
Center attention, talk of the town
These were her outcomes from many long hours
Spent honing her craft and shaping it with pink flairs

She enters the ceremony giddy and happy
In awe of preparations for her glowing pink passion
Every eye turns with an "uh" or an "ah" to see
A vision in pink floating down the center aisle

The contract is now signed, sealed, delivered
And she has never looked so beautiful as she does right now
Glowing with love, shimmering in pink, my oldest baby
Is at least the belle of her own ball

Jade's Breakfast

One-Minute Writer Friday Fiction: Breakfast

Write a brief fictional piece that involves breakfast.


JADE'S BREAKFAST

Jade sat down on one of the hard benches at the restaurant's patio cafe. Although it was just barely six o'clock in the morning, the hustle and bustle of people was starting to pick up as everyone started making their way to various jobs and occupations.

Jade had promised to meet Devon at LaRonda's for an early breakfast and a question and answer time. Devon had quickly become one of Jade's favorite people on Earth. He was young and energetic and because he was such a creative soul, Jade was able to use less control on her glamour when they were alone together. Not completely turn it off, but she found she could "let her hair down," so to speak, when Devon was around - be more like herself.

Breakfast was one of Jade's least favorite activities on this planet. Because Jade absorbs all her nutrition and mineral needs from the atmosphere around her, she rarely had to actually eat anything. She had practiced eating human food during her two eon preparation for this mission, but she had never quiet learned to master the texture and taste of food in her mouth. She quickly found, Breakfast was the only real meal where she had to eat when she was with friends. It's easy to blow off eating lunch because you can't leave your desk, or complaint of no hungry for supper, but most people will not accept any excuses for why you're not eating breakfast.

"It's the most important meal of the day."

"You've fasted all night, eat up."

"Breakfast should be the biggest calorie laden meal of the day."

"How can you not be hungry for supper?"

Jade managed to blend in, but with some people it was very hard to hold her glamour and try to eat breakfast at the same time. That is why she wasn't too worried about meeting Devon for breakfast, letting her glamour down would allow her to eat without raising suspicion.

"Hey, Girl, how ya doin'," Devon floated in like the queen bee he was and planted wet kisses on both Jade's cheeks. He orchestrated himself onto the bench just opposite Jade and settle down with his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. Even when trying not to be flamboyant, Devan was flamboyant.

"Have you ordered breakfast? Of course, you haven't. You wanted to make sure I was going to show up, right?" He batted his eyes suggestive at her and watched her expression.

Taken off guard by behavior that was so over the top, even for Devan, Jade became flustered.

"Wh...hat doooo you m..m..mean?" she stammered.

"You know exactly what I mean, pussy cat. And I'm not leaving this cafe until you have told the the whole story." He flashed a Cheshire cat grin.

"Devan," frustration filling her voice,"I'm sure I don't know what you are talking about." She picked up her menu and started scanning the items. As much as she hated to order any food, maybe it would divert Devan's attention from asking more questions.

He grabbed the menu away from her and tossed it onto the next table.

"Nope - not gonna let you change the subject, Butter Cup," he reached out and captured both her hands in his own rough paws. "And the first thing I want to know is, 'Why is your skin green?'"

Coca-Cola Barn

Story to come, but I couldn't wait to show you this photo.

Barn Shadows

(Photo by Dan Felstead of Wood and Pixels Narratives)

BARN SHADOWS

The standing barn has absorbed the frequencies
Of passing memories and feelings gone by
Darkened with shadows of passing time
Or the communications of a earlier eon

The old oak planks are a testimony
Of the hardworking tobacco farmer's life
Permeated wood with fragrances not soon forgotten
The emotional scars like the many wood worm holes

So why is my life wrapped in the shadows
Like the claustrophobic lines on the barn
Instead of breaking free to a different life
Where laughter can chase the shadows away

The shadows help to conceal my presence
As I wait behind the scenes
Never quite comfortable in the role of a leader
A follower I'll always be

Will my life eventually calm down
Will I come to miss these times
But I don't want everything all sunshine and roses
Because the shadows are now my best friends

One-Minute Writer - Illness

Today's One-Minute Writing Prompt: Illness

Recall a time you were sick as a child.

I recall a time when I was 7 or 8 years old and I had a horrible earache. It was Thanksgiving 1969 or 1970 and I was laying in a chair at my Granny Devine's house with my left ear on a heating pad. All day, I remember chewing little orange aspirins and having Mom and Granny take turns dropping sweet oil drops in my ear. I felt so bad I could hardly eat any Thanksgiving turkey or gravy - I have to be really sick to not feel like eating! But I got to drink Sprite cola all day for hydration - back then, I only got soft drinks on a special occasion.