Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Annie and Cal were relieved to get home to their little bungalow, home for fifty years.
The anniversary party was a chore.
Too many old people. Too many balloons.
Too many sappy love ballads.
Fifty years didn't make them fuddy duddies.
Cal plugged the iPod into the dock and kicked up the volume. He threw his arms around Annie. She feigned coquetry, then tucked into his chest.
Stones, Elvis, Doors and more filled the tiny home.
The couple danced, jiggled, and giggled from living room to kitchen to porch, where they dropped, groping like teenagers, to the old wooden swing.
Friday, August 3, 2012
The Prompt: Olympic athletes are showcasing their talents on a global stage, and we’d like you to choose your best event for this Friday’s link up. Choose one of the following prompts and come back to link up on Friday.
The 100 Meter Sprint
100 words on a conflict, competition, or game.
The Road Race
300 words on a topic of your choice. The only catch? Your setting must be London, Beijing, or Rio de Janeiro.
Partner up with another Write on Edge writer. You each have 450 words to write about a conflict between two characters; each writer should represent a single character’s point of view.(I chose the 100 meter sprint.)
"One, two, three, four, five, sixseveneightnineten!
Here I come!"
"Oh no, you found me!"
I found you...I win!"
"Yes, you win."
"Let's race! I'm racing! Catch me!
Did I win?"
"Yay! I win!"
"Run with me!
Play with me!
Your'e it...close your eyes!
"I am, I am!
One , two ,three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten...ready or not, here I come!"
"Do you see me?"
"Yes, boy, I see you.
Ah ha! I found you!
We win again!"
"Come on, Gramma!"
"Wait for me..."
"I love you Gramma."
"I love you too, Kiddo..."
Thursday, August 2, 2012
One of my writerly friends posted a picture of arbor, overgrown with vines. This is the story that happened....
It was nearly dawn as Margy walked alone down the sidewalk. The path was uneven and empty but for the litter of earlier travelers. Her eyes watched her feet, but without seeing them. Her mind a confusing jumble of half formed thoughts and drug hazed images.
After too many losses too young, the embrace of narcotics became a siren call to her tired heart.
The figure behind her watched her stumble along. Her posture and inattention labeled her a target. The shuffling gait shouted to him, “None will miss this one. No one cares.”
Still, he was cautious, looking around for prospective witnesses. That caution was shattered by the careless kicking of a discarded soda can.
Through veil of drugs, Margy became aware of her stalker. Her body fought the drugged indifference of her mind as it struggled for self preservation.
Her feet quickened their unsteady pace, her eyes began to look for escape. They lit upon an overgrown garden in a long neglected urban park.
The arbor entrance was drenched in vines. The space beyond, a wilderness of wildflowers and high grass. In the slowly blossoming light, she could only hope for the cover of brush. She ducked through the arbor, her stalker just footsteps behind.
He stopped, confounded by her disappearance. The old lot was a tumble of weeds and trash cans. There was nowhere she could have have gone. No place to hide. Yet, gone she was.
Margy’s eyes adjusted to the brightening sky. The park was much larger than it had seemed from the street.
She cocked her head to listen, children, she could hear children laughing. As she ventured farther, she could see a playground.
A squeal of delight reached her. “Margy! Margy, over here! We’re so glad you made it!”
A smile flowed across her face, the first in years. As she started forward, she glanced at her feet. The pink lights of her favorite pony festooned sneakers flashed brightly with every step.