Friday, December 9, 2011


It's Friday again and time for another Flash Friday Fictioneer! This is for a photo prompt for the 100-words Flash Fiction supplied by Madison Wood. If you would like to join us, come to


     “Grady! Here boy!” Libby hollered, squeaking the little dog toy in her hand. She walked past her eldest son who was sitting with a small heater between his legs. The thick aroma of bacon hung in the air.
     “Tommy, why in hell are you frying bacon on a heater? You’re going to burn the house down!” she demanded as he turns a lean strip of bacon on the makeshift grill.
     “I’m not going to burn the house down.  Besides, “  he said, as he carefully flipped over another piece, “what makes you think this is bacon?”
     He looked up at his mom and waved the heater in front of her. “I improvised on the method of frying. Why not improvise on the meat?”
     Libby didn’t know what to say – what to think.  A cold chill brushed against her spine and she suddenly didn’t want to know the answer.  Instead, she asked another.
      ”Tommy, have you seen Grady?”
      He nodded to the squeak toy in Libby’s hand. “Yep. Go ahead and give it a squeeze, maybe Grady will leap off the heater.”

First I have to apologize for this little morbid story. It is more than 100 words and it was brought to you by the way of my curious kitty cat – Bella. I was making supper last night, had pots going on the stove and went to check on supper, only to see my cat sitting on the stove with her tail wrapped around one of the boiling pots. Yes, I think she is down one of her nine lives….

Friday, November 4, 2011

Father Winter

This is for a photo prompt for the 100-words Flash #FridayFictioneers. If you would like to join us, come to

Father Winter

It was to last a few scant days, but the days turned into months.

The sun had deserted us, left us to the mercy of the storm. Father Winter continued
to scream down our chimney, rattle our windows, tear at our rooftop, and coat trees 
and crops in thick icy armor.

Billy had tried to make it into town today, but the horse became lame.
Our food source is low, only three taters in our bin.

Dust in our cupboards. An ache in our bellies.

Tomorrow we shall dine on our horse.

Friday, October 21, 2011


This is for a photo prompt for the 100-words Flash #FridayFictioneers. If you would like to join us, come to   I've managed to do this week's story in 64-words. Yay me!



This is what grips me when I see the marbled sphere. Not perfectly round but chipped - worn, its colors lost to age and decay.  Breath quickens as it rolls - tumbling, bouncing over the dents of my scarred wooden table, traveling its long journey towards me to bump against my hand.


Not because of a simple marble.


Because I am alone.

Friday, October 14, 2011

Grandmother's Picture

This is a photo prompt for the 100-words Flash #FridayFictioneers. If you would like to join us, come to and try your hand. It truly is a lot of fun.

Grandmother's Picture

The ornately framed picture hung predominately on grandma’s wall for years, while smaller pictures of her grandchildren hung, like an afterthought, around the over-sized eyesore.

Grandma noticed me studying it with a critical eye.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” she said with a smile.

I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but lovely did not come to mind.

Dark. Gloomy. Despair. Decay.

Her eyes roved tenderly over the framed picture and I could have sworn I saw a light
glow faintly from one of the doors.

 “Soon, my dear George.” she whispered her late husband’s name. “I will be there soon.”

Friday, October 7, 2011

Death in the Mist

This is my first post for the 100-words #Flash Friday. That's right, only 100 words to tell a story that goes with the following picture. Easy? Nope. Fun? You betcha! If you want to join us, come to and see how far 100 words will go to telling your tale.

Death in the Mist

A loud pop disturbed the quiet of the valley. The horses flew, scattering to the far corner of the meadow. 
They could smell it. Their nostrils flared against the acrid stench.

Death in the mist.

A man stepped out of the swirling mist. It clung heavily to him, becoming a part of him. He wore it like 
a cloak as he moved soundlessly across the meadow. A rifle, spent, dragged forlorn behind him.

The man stopped and looked out across the meadow toward the home he once shared with his wife – 
and slowly faded along with the mist.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Blog of Shame

I renamed my blog from "The art of writing" to "The struggles of writing" for it has been anything but an art form.
I am still struggling to get even one of my novels done. I have gotten pretty far - further than I've ever been, but it's not enough. I want one of my novels DONE. Not done as in edited and polished into something that I can be proud to let someone read. But into an actual finished first draft with mistakes and blunders and all. Finished from A to Z so that I can have the enjoyment of picking at it and make all kinds of changes and editing to it.

So until I can get any of my novels into a finished first draft, the name shall remain "The struggles of writing."

Friday, May 13, 2011

A Long Time Coming

It's been a long time since I've posted anything on here. So much has happened in a year's time. We lost our beloved boy - Danzig - earlier this year. It has been over three months and I still miss him so much. He was a big part of our family and we had him for 17 beautiful years. I still get teary eyed, like I am now, when I think of him.

A month ago, we adopted a little 5 month old kitten we named "Bella". She is a handful - more like a toddler really. She gets into everything and we love her. She is not Danzig, but we love her for her own odd personality. From her climbing on my shoulder, to flopping down and exposing her belly as we walk by. I am looking forward to the years to come with our new girl.

I am still writing. I'm working on a murder mystery that I am very excited about. I only hope that this will be the story that I'll be able to finish. Wish me luck.