Posted in Fiction

The Old Professor

BAA30BB7-118A-4F50-8E34-A6A8329D2FAF

The old professor looked at the beautiful full moon shining over the city.

“Are you sure you’re ready to retire, Robert?” his friend, Arthur, asked.

”I’ll never be ready. It’s my life. It’s time though.”

Robert was packing boxes.

“Do you have to move? No one is left for you where you lived 25 years ago,” Arthur commented.

”I’ll go through my papers. Write my memoir. I’ll always be a professor, Arthur. I just want to read, write, and research, That’s all I need.”

”Live here with me, Robert. I need your company.”

Tears streamed down Robert’s face as he smiled.

 

Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff and Friday Fictioneers and photo attribution goes to Gah Learner.

Posted in Non-fiction, weekendcoffeeshare

#weekendcoffeeshare – 8/2/2018

Hello everyone! Thank you for joining my #weekendcoffeeshare. I asked you to join me at the coffee shop this weekend instead of at my home because I have multiple projects going on at home and it is a cluttered mess! Maybe we can go back to my study next weekend. I’ve asked the manager to set up the coffee bar for you, so please help yourself to coffee or tea there. There should be a wide assortment for you.

If we were having coffee, I would ask you how your week was? Did you have a good week? Did you accomplish your goals? Here we are, suddenly, in early September! Where did the summer go? I’ve not enjoyed summer as much as I usually do largely because of the weather patterns here in the Ohio Valley. Instead of the beautiful, blue days we usually have in the summer, we’ve had beautiful blue days with extremely high humidity. This part of the Ohio Valley is always humid in the summer, but this year it has been exceptionally so. We’ve seldom had a day’s break from it. I’ve been reminded of the humidity in New Orleans, where, when you step outdoors, it feels like a heavy, hot, blanket has been dropped over you! I’ve felt trapped inside my house this summer!

For those of you in the Southern Hemisphere, you’ve been experiencing winter and I hope it hasn’t been too difficult. I find myself looking forward to fall and winter this year.

Oh, I have to tell you about a book I’m reading that I’ve fallen in love with and I don’t give book recommendations easily. I am writing a novella in the historical fiction genre; specifically set in World War II. The novel that I’m reading, called “Letters to the Lost” by Iona Grey is set in World War II in England. The author is masterful, She has wonderful characterization throughout the book and changes voice throughout. It’s a great novel to study those techniques, not to mention a wonderful read.

We’re still in puppy training mode at my house. I have a feeling we will be doing this for a long time to come! Tucker will be six months old on Wednesday! He is now a big gangly puppy, half again the size of the two Cardigan Welsh Corgis that I’ve had earlier in my life. He’s strong as an ox, sweet as a peach, and the most stubborn animal on the face of Planet Earth. 🙂 In some ways, his behavior is improving. We’re using all sorts of training methods to help him (and us!). I’m hoping that the slight improvements I see are the start of something good. He is still bouncing off the walls! He goes to puppy day care at our wonderful local kennel twice a week for purposes of socialization and he loves it. He plays with other puppies all day. At home, his best friend is a big frog who only comes out at night. They sit on our deck together. I’m desperately training to get a photo, but no luck yet.

I mentioned, in another #weekendcoffeeshare, that I was going to try #Schrivner when writing one of my books. Someone commented that she would like for me to post my comments about it, so I will. If you are a free writer – in other words, if you just sit down and start writing without much planning – Scrivener is probably not for you. It is writing software for the planner. If you are a planner of what you are going to write, then it doesn’t get much better than Scrivener, It gives you the structure in which to plan. I hope this helps.

Enough from here! How has your week been?

 

Thank you to Eclecticali Alli for hosting #weekendcoffeeshare!

Posted in Fiction

Respect

AAC0986B-F481-45AB-AA4C-933B68F94116

All the children worked in the garden. It was hard, back-breaking work, especially since the crows had descended, picking everything clean. When Abigail’s brothers talked to their father, the farmer, about the crow problem, he discussed possible solutions with them. When Abigail mentioned it to her father, she felt the back of his hand and heard him say that she was just lazy.

”It isn’t fair,” Abigail said to Frank, her oldest brother. “He talks to you like you’re a human being. To him, I’m just a slave.” Frank just laughed and told her she was just a girl. Abigail had heard that all of her life. She worked as hard as any boy or man.

They had tried a scarecrow in the garden. A pitiful, spindly thing that wouldn’t scare anything away. Abigail knew that scarecrows worked in the neighbors’ gardens. She went to work building a female scarecrow with all the accoutrements.

Her father and brothers laughed at her creation. They said she wouldn’t work. That Abigail was stupid.

Suddenly, their problem with the crows stopped. Abigail’s scarecrow was scaring them away. Her father didn’t acknowledge her, but looked at her with a new respect in his eyes.

 

200 words

*In remembrance of Aretha Franklin. When I first heard this song, it was likely the first time I’d ever heard the word “respect” associated with women. She had an effect on an entire generation.

*Thanks to sundayphotofictioner for the great prompt and to Anurag Bakhshi for the photo prompt.

*

Posted in Fiction

The Comet Hale-Bopp

B2F6DD09-5B7C-4FD2-984E-B840048F095F

They found the darkest possible spot, that night in the spring of 1997. A flat rock on a mountain top called Lochegee. They had to climb and up they went, right at dusk.

They sat and waited for this much hailed comet. They heard voices and a group of college students joined them. It seemed like a magical, almost spiritual, time, knowing the comet had been visible 4,200 years ago.

They all saw its blue-white brilliance at the same time, right above the horizon.

When they climbed down, it was in silence, knowing they had witnessed a rare and wondrous sight.

 

*Thanks to Charli Mills and the Carrot Ranch for the prompt!

Posted in Fiction

The Writer

94FF38F1-A6A6-4D9E-8CAB-60360FFB13D5

”You can tell I left here in a hurry last night,” she thought to herself as she attempted to clean up the mess on her desk.

“At least I took my laptop out of the filth,” she thought as she wondered why she had put a liquor bottle on her desk. She must have really been desperate.

She was on the third draft of her third novel. It had been a late night. The door swung open and there stood her agent.

”I have news,” he cried. “Your second novel has just been accepted by the publisher.”

She fainted.

 

 

99 words

Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff for the prompt and Yvette Prior for the photo!

 

 

Posted in weekendcoffeeshare

#weekendcoffeeshare – 7/11/2018

Hello everyone! I’d like to invite you to have coffee with me after dinner tonight. I’m running late this weekend, but after dinner coffee might be fun for a change. I appreciate all of you attending my #weekendcoffeeshare tonight! There is a selection of coffee on the bar. There is also tea such as Earl Grey and Paris. Please help yourself.

if we were having coffee, I would tell you that I’ve had a difficult week, so please forgive me if I’m not my usual self. One of my former classmates and forever friends passed away and his visitation and services were this week. He was a special, unique man and he will be greatly missed by many. I had known him since we started kindergarten together at four years old and we then went through twelve years of school together. I’m sad tonight.

I’m having some behavioral issues with my five-month old puppy. It is disturbing and upsetting, having never dealt with such issues before with a puppy. I’m hoping, as he gets older, they will resolve themselves, but I’m working with him a great deal now.

I have embarked on a huge job. I am going through all my photos and the photos from my mother. I’m going to try to get the photos of other family members back to them and the photos of my own family in some semblance of order. I know, I know. It’s a big job, but it’s time to do it. It won’t be done overnight, I assure you!

I’ve done a good bit of writing this week. Sometimes, when life gets hard, I escape into my writing. That’s the story of this week.

A brief line from one of my favorite poems. I wish I could live like this:

”I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief”

—from “The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry

I’d love to hear about your week!

 

Thanks to eclecticali for hosting #weekendcoffeeshare.

 

Posted in Fiction

Mania

1017836D-C47F-433E-8398-24E91B8C68BE

“Gavin, I’m writing my comprehensive exams for Oxford. I am not going to worry about him right now.”

”How long has he been gone?”

”I’m not sure. You know there are days when I don’t see him. From the looks of the soap in his shower, it looks like he’s been gone for a while.”

Gavin walked into his bathroom and looked in the shower.

“Everything is certainly dried up in there. That soap. He’s just used that little corner,” he said.

”He’s always afraid he won’t be able to buy anything, even with that huge fortune sitting in the bank at his disposal.”

Gavin paced around the apartment. “Any idea where he went?”

I finally sighed and laid down my books.

”A few weeks ago, he mentioned a craving for Indonesian food. If I were you, I’d try Amsterdam.”

”Is he manic right now?”

”Gavin, when will you learn that he’s always manic and get him some help?”

Gavin just looked at me and said, “Where in Amsterdam?”

”The red light district. That’s where his favorite Indonesian restaurant is. As well as a lot of available women.”

 

Thanks to Susan at Sunday Photo Fiction for the prompt and Fandango for the photo!

Posted in Fiction

Summer – #writephoto

E5EABED7-AEBE-4307-A8CC-EF3E23995986

Summer was not her favorite season. She preferred fall and even winter. Here she was, in the dog days of summer, looking at a meadow that stretched out before her. She pulled over to the shoulder of the narrow, two-lane road in her car, got out and started walking. It was hot. She didn’t enjoy the weather, but the meadow reminded her of a long ago and far away meadow where she and her husband had once picnicked.

That day, that picnic, came back to her in living color detail. How long had it been? 35 years? 40 years? It had been a lovely day. Her husband had squashed down the beautiful white flowers and laid down a tablecloth. The flowers in that long-ago meadow had been a combination of milkweed, yarrow, and wild indigo. The white flowers in this beautiful meadow looked to be the same. This was a little bit of deja vu for her. She stepped from the shoulder of the road into the meadow and sat down on a little rise at the edge of the road with the flowers tickling her ankles.

She’d been carrying the picnic basket that day. He’d been carrying the drinks. She could hear the tinkle of their laughter as they walked through the meadow that long-ago day. They were just married. Newlyweds. So very much in love. They sat down on the bright blue cloth and spread out some French bread, cheese, grapes, and a vintage white wine. She had brought two wine glasses. The sun beat down on their heads as they ate, laughed, and talked and became drowsy. The smell of the flowers was as intoxicating as the wine.

She felt tears well up in her eyes. They didn’t have any baggage back then, but that changed. A popular thing to say currently was that people needed to unpack their baggage. How did you unpack your memory? Forget the events of 40 years? She thought that saying was silly. Their’s was a life fully lived, both together and apart. They were always happier together, but they had spent significant amounts of time apart. The first time her choice, the second time his. That had led to a very odd history for them as a couple.

Until recently, she didn’t think there was a chance they could live together for the rest of their lives. She thought their relationship was over and only the dregs remained. She didn’t know quite what either would do. They weren’t young anymore.

Then, life happens as it will and he started to become engaged in their marriage again. She was suspicious at first and didn’t believe it was real. He started to seem more himself, that boy she had picnicked with that summer day. She became hopeful. It had been so long since she had seen that boy that she had almost forgotten him. Gradually, she became convinced. He did seem to be that boy but with the wisdom and fatigue of age. She started to let down her guard.

As she looks at the familiar meadow with the white flowers, she remains hopeful, but still not sure. Will she live the rest of her life unsure? Perhaps. He may feel the same. She’s decided it’s worth the risk although this time, if it doesn’t work, it’s too late for them both. There isn’t enough of life left to start over, together or apart. They will each be alone.

 

Thanks to Sue Vincent for the excellent photo prompt!

Posted in Fiction

The Fawn

317C8697-4371-420A-B208-6A87CD15E823

She watched him when he was a fawn. Come summer, he grew spikes. A young buck. He was unafraid of her. He grew accustomed to her apples. He came to the porch and snatched the food from her hand. She grew to love him that winter. She was alone.

The next summer, he was a four-point buck. He came to the porch. She tried to make him go away, fearful he was too accustomed to people.

It’s been ten years. An old buck comes to the porch. He takes the apples. She knows by his eyes that it’s him.

 

*Thanks to Charli Mills and the Carrot Ranch for this prompt that is so very appropriate.

Posted in Fiction

The Prisoner

3B7CF6F5-7F56-4C7B-B6F3-EB9A68C5F1C0

She doesn’t want them watching her. She has secrets. Secrets that could spell the end of her. She’s tried everything to insure her privacy.  She has instructed her crew to plant the tall grass. Maybe this will deter them and their prying eyes.

They want to destroy her. They are jealous of her. All the people buzzing around her door. All wanting a piece of her. She won’t have it any longer. The tall grass will make her home look uninhabited, run down.

Why does she have to go to these lengths? She knows who the prisoner will be – herself.

 

Thanks to Rochelle and Friday Fictioneers and to Ronda del Boccia for the photo prompt.