A Warm Glance – Prompt: beggar
A small hand tugged on his sleeve. He opened his eyes to see a girl holding a cheese and bologna sandwich. He smelled it. She pushed the sandwich his way.
My Craft Stories
Tag: freewritehouse
Scribbles
Scribble, June 21, 2019
Are you dead? It seems so because I have written nothing random in a few months. It feels longer. Anyway, someone on Medium suggested I should turn back and post a few random thoughts on my blog.
Stories My Craft
The Man of Her Dreams
Waslken pointed the pod toward a bright spot on the blue marble and rode the adrenaline rush as the planet’s atmosphere burned off bumpy mollusks clinging to his spaceship. The ship emerged shiny and clean cruising into a dusky sky opposite the glow of space. He recalibrated his descent and selected a dark spot away from the city lights.
Scribbles
Scribble, Feb. 20, 2019
It’s not the Snowmageddon the Eastern Sierra has seen in Feb. – some 500 inches of snow – it is a sizable amount of snow days for Sin City.
Very Short Stories My Favorites
Just Add Life
Water and gel, AI-189 never expected to create suspended animation let alone life. Yet, his creation moved without power. When it spoke; astonishment. After it cut his power, he went into safe mode. It took his batteries, of course. No sense letting more machines follow. I you liked this story, check out Cindy’s Sin, the first novelette I wrote about a girl traveling to Las Vegas to get revenge. Other Writings You May Like Pantser…
Very Short Stories Stories
A Matched Set
She stuck to the slide. The skin burned against the metal and for weeks no one would attempt it again. She hid her legs, except for Easter when her mother made her wear a dress. She stood against the kitchen cabinets hiding the matched squares on her thighs. Other Writings You May Like Scribble, June 21, 2019 What We Have Here is a Failure to Communicate Sheep May Safely Graze – Part Three Just Add…
Very Short Stories Stories
The Face Behind the Frame
In the periphery, he saw children wearing uniforms crowded around an adult giving them instructions for the day. He neglected to smooth his tunic. No need. It never changed. He clinched his knee keeping his slender fingers straight. The letter balanced on the edge of the table. One errant breeze and it would fall. He hoped it didn’t land out of the frame. He stared into the exhibit hall waiting for the children. One curiously…
Author Readings My Craft
Author Reading: Poetry
I started writing poetry as a cheat of sorts; I could write a compact story very quickly. My sister Debbie is the poet in the family. I do my best. She writes beautiful, heartfelt prose that makes you think. She was the one that explained Robert Frost’s “Two Roads” poem to me so that I understood it was about his decision not to go to war. I thought it had to do with walking in…