tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27600356415236363652024-03-27T14:43:00.834-04:00Elsetime & OtherwhenReneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.comBlogger255125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-79590613302791576562020-04-14T21:12:00.001-04:002020-04-14T21:12:59.121-04:00Spring CleaningMusty wet leaf odor fills my nose. I anticipate a sneezing fit before I”m done. Load after load of molding or crispy leaves laying since last autumn’s fall. Ninety percent oak with generous helping of maple. Salted with leaves from redbud and cottonwood. The entirety dusted with a sprinkle of cedar twigs dropped for pleasure.
I silently curse the dryads for finding it a necessity to place Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-59496171648414423662018-08-29T22:45:00.000-04:002018-08-29T22:45:06.370-04:00CobwebsThe cobwebs are thick in this space. So long since I've entered.
More than two years of life and new responsibilities.
And death.
When I unintentionally abandoned this keeper of my words, I'd just begun a new job. Learning and trying not to stress over new things. Within the year I was fortunate to receive a promotion. More learning; and accepting I will always stress over new things. Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-39570719018399603092016-04-29T23:45:00.000-04:002016-04-29T23:45:05.943-04:00Tuesday Flash Fiction Train Challenge Round 4/Part 4Here I am sliding in at the last minute again for the #TuesFlashFicTrain Challenge with my next take on Gloria's story!
Gloria crept down the hallway in the direction the two intruders had gone. She’d been thrilled to find the invisibility shawl still folded in its original plastic packing. Once beneath its cover she noticed the light was a bit dimmer, and the sound of her footsteps Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-4305829426637755232016-04-15T23:02:00.001-04:002016-04-15T23:02:56.927-04:00WinterdoneTara gave us "south" this week for the 100 Word Challenge. having finally gotten the peas in today (here in the north), this is where I went...
Bitter wind blew, raising goose bumps on the back of her neck. The long running winter had almost broken her will.
The stubborn daffodils, refusing to be held at bay kept her from giving up completely.
She stood in the yard, waiting for the dog to Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-54711067006853768132016-04-15T22:35:00.000-04:002016-04-15T22:35:50.242-04:00Tuesday Flash Fiction Train R4W3I didn't get a chance to play at Kat's TuesFlashFicTrain last week, but Stacy'sentry was perfect. Here's what I came up with to follow.
Gloria backed out of the room never taking her eyes off Harvey’s back. With nowhere else to go, she returned to the supply closet. She ducked inside and pulled the door shut.
She kept one ear to the door as she lit one of the candles she’d Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-89214493605578157452016-04-02T00:18:00.000-04:002016-04-02T00:18:47.372-04:00Without the Letter Before BMuddled through this week's 100 Word Chllenge without the letter before B.
None of those. Not here. They’ll throw you out if you do.
I’m serious. Mustn’t do it!
How difficult could it be?
Terribly difficult.
See, words ditto-ing themselves so soon.
But, finished one fourth!
Trying to think thoughts without them.
Mind numbing!
Fingers Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-13134638952878402402016-04-01T23:28:00.001-04:002016-04-01T23:28:58.950-04:00Flash Fiction Train Challenge R4-W1Popping into the Tuesday Flash Fiction Challenge with Kat Avila again. Here's this week's offering.
Gloria hustled to grab her jacket from the locker room, then ran for the time clock. She’d gotten a late start this evening; her keys managing to not be where she’d expected. Ten minutes wasted searching for them left her rushing to be at her post on time. As she rounded theReneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-28505175693464829042016-03-19T00:01:00.004-04:002016-03-19T00:10:43.571-04:00Flash Fiction Train; Round 3, Part 5Sneaking in at the very last minute with my offering for Kat Avila's Tuesday Flash Fiction Train
Rita stood in the middle of the aisle, eyes squeezed shut. The screams no longer reached her ears and she shuddered in anguish at the result of her rage. The memories had flooded her mind, intermingled with the taunts of the old woman and other passengers.
She had let it overcome her.
Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-42472533875993462252016-03-04T22:41:00.000-05:002016-03-04T22:41:45.371-05:00Blown AwayMy offering for this week's Coldly Calculating prompt at Our Write Side.
Sherry sat on the back porch listening to the newly opened leaves shuffle against each other in the gusty spring air. She loved the smell of fresh growth. Though this morning it was tainted with the strong flavor of bleach..
She sighed, it couldn’t be helped. In the end, bleach was the only answer. Some Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-82494364647886733262016-03-04T22:20:00.001-05:002016-03-04T22:20:53.427-05:00Riding the Flash Fiction Train, Round 3/Week 3I've been regularly joining in at Kat Avila'a Fiction Trials to play a story writing challenge. Check out this week's offerings, then come back to play on the Flash Fiction Train. Here's my offering...
Rita glared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked awful. The cold wasn’t budging and it was just a miracle she made it through the conference call. Thankfully Laura had been Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-28854703408745742262016-02-23T22:58:00.004-05:002016-02-23T22:58:55.786-05:00The PaperSneaking in to The 100 Word Challenge at the last minute with my offering; a memory.
It lay on the front walk. Wrapped in an orange plastic baggie. I watch it from the window, that bright beacon, begging me to rescue it.
It calls to me. “Look! The Times’ Crossword, and don’t forget the sudoku.”
I gaze at it as morning slips to the afternoon. “I’m the Sunday paper; comics,Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-1314815175363225632016-02-21T19:50:00.003-05:002016-02-21T19:50:58.248-05:00Check MateI took a stab at the Fractured Friday prompt at Our Write Side this week. The challenge was to take a famous love triangle and mix it up, change the story a bit. I chose the Arthurian trio; Guinevere, Lancelot, and of course the King himself, Arthur.
“Lance, babe. He’s the King.”
Lancelot frowned at his fiance, “So what? How does that give him the right to claim you?Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-51729461912801516072016-02-12T22:24:00.002-05:002016-02-12T22:24:59.811-05:00LuckThis week's word is 'luck' at the 100 Word Challenge over at Tara's place..
Greta looked warily at the hand held out to her. It was large and rough; black dirt embedded under the nails.
She forced a smile to her lips as she allowed her carefully manicured fingers to be swallowed within its grasp.
He towered over her as he led her to the dance floor. she spied the Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-56978883558985407932016-02-10T22:19:00.000-05:002016-02-10T22:19:23.718-05:00There's a Monster Under the Bed
<
Bobby’s blankets lay on the floor again. The monster under the bed pulls them off every night as Bobby sleeps.
The monster lives among the dust bunnies and one shoe that's whisked away in the middle of the night. Bobby knows it’s a monster. He hears it at night grumbling and mumbling. He dares not get up to look. Bobby has no wish to join the shoe.
Even in the morning light it’s all he Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-2689785512357663622016-02-10T21:22:00.003-05:002016-02-10T21:22:26.626-05:00Hose-zone
Two socks enter.
Only to lose sight of each other in the agitation and tumble.
Lost somewhere between drain and lint trap,
Or upon the aberrant path leading to the dark side of the moon.
One lonely sock waits in my drawer.Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-34077639834791582432016-02-05T22:43:00.000-05:002016-02-05T22:43:49.211-05:00The Only AnswerThis weeks 100 Word Challenge word is 'idea'.
Toss and turn. Turn and toss. My head just wouldn’t let go.
A senseless exercise, I couldn’t change the past. All the should haves and could haves, too late.
The moon rose, the moon set.
At sunrise I dragged my weary body out of bed and trudged blindly for the coffee maker.
It was over that first cup that Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-62134727891762727502016-02-05T22:07:00.000-05:002016-02-05T22:07:13.558-05:00Eight More to GoCan you stand another tale of Joe and Charlie, the two slightly inept demon's? I just can't help myself sometimes
Linked up with Coldly Calculating at Our Write Side
“Where we going Joe?”
“Home Charlie, the Boss finally got us outta that witches nest, and I need a break.”
“So…what're we doing in limbo land?”
“What? What are you talking about”? Joe looked around. His partner was Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-68484520788397863522016-02-03T20:19:00.000-05:002016-02-03T20:19:52.483-05:00After Shock
Living alone means you always know where your things are. There’s no one to put the sugar on the wrong shelf. Nobody to fold the kitchen towels, then stack them in the linen closet. Or, leave every light on in the house.
Living alone simplifies everything. No opposition when picking a movie. Meals made easier with only one set of taste buds to consider.
Daily routines are never Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-52714192612135035112016-02-03T20:15:00.000-05:002016-02-03T20:15:35.814-05:00Where's the Cheese?
“Where is the damn cheese?”
The cat replies with a knowing wink before slipping away to its feline agenda.
A glance at the dog provides no answer.
Then a blur of gray crosses the floor.
“Squeak!”
“Eek!”
Guess who stole the cheddar.
Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-27613703313155658022016-01-30T21:20:00.000-05:002016-01-30T21:25:20.497-05:00PeculiarI'm joining Tara on her inaugural hosting of the 100 Word Challenge. I think I've missed writing within a specific word count.
The cellar never bothered her. She wasn’t one to be spooked by dark corners or the peculiar smell of damp dirt. It was the perfect environment for jars of fruits and vegetables preserved for winter use.
Recently, the trips left her Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-57843475902103293352016-01-28T23:15:00.003-05:002016-01-28T23:15:55.744-05:00Running FreeAnother stab at Master Class Monday at Our Write Side
Fiona ran through the forest. A stark landscape of naked trees and fresh snowfall kept her within full view of her pursuers. Her breath blew puffs of steam as her feet crunched the ice crusted snow. She didn’t dare look behind her. If she could see their eyes she knew it was the end of her run.
Her feet were numbReneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-3501501398656418142016-01-27T21:44:00.002-05:002016-01-27T21:44:54.395-05:00Cause Way
She hesitated before she left the bridge a second time.
The first crossing had led to her destiny. A lifetime of rigorous physical training and endless mental preparation culminated in this second crossing.
One last step unleashed her upon an unsuspecting world.Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-75856894048812603082016-01-21T23:00:00.001-05:002016-01-21T23:00:19.336-05:00There She Goes AgainI've missed Anne Marie. She whispers to me at night, it's time to let her out for a while.
My offering for Master Class Monday at Our Write Side
Anne Marie listened intently for a repetition of the cracking of leaves behind her. Though she heard no new sound, she silently circled back. The iron broadsword in her grip hummed in anticipation. She sniffed the air; was that Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-59766215938514030122016-01-20T00:02:00.000-05:002016-01-20T00:02:04.599-05:00Listen to the Music
The guests had listened
politely throughout his performance. As soon as he finished the final ballad
the serving girls immediately entered and placed platters on the long table.
Gaddy noticed the food was carefully arranged to give the appearance of great bounty.
The king’s guests served themselves
sparingly, yet the platters barely fed the entire table. The talk at the table
was low Reneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2760035641523636365.post-15961651169849543742016-01-05T22:28:00.002-05:002016-01-05T22:28:49.921-05:00MasterpieceLinking again with Master Class Monday at Our Write Side with a bit of bizarre art.
Buddy supposed he ought to clean out the cellar. He'd left it it go far too long. It was part of the job he wasn’t going enjoy. The rest of the work was so fascinating. Watching the process happen kept him rapt with wonder and fair amount of pride.
The steps he followed with such meticulousReneehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00955772837133239769noreply@blogger.com2