Robin Hawke


Relieved
January 31, 2012, 1:30 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Deliberately, they chose to elope. At Niagara Falls, Bea told her fiance that the water’s noise would have drowned her relatives’ quarrels. John stood, by her side, delaying the moment they would turn to argue about cheesy churches.



Thespian
January 30, 2012, 2:54 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Laura’s freshman crush was a thing of theatrics. A bit of a rooster stew. With each dawn, she cried doom or proclaimed inviolable love.



Mind the Gap
January 29, 2012, 5:06 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges, Uncategorized | Tags:

There’s a gap, I’m going to call it January and thank you January is almost over, between the sides of my brain. If I spend too long on one side, the gap gets wider. It’s quite lovely on the right, energizing and relaxing. The left is full of shoulds and would yous and couldn’t yous. I’ll mind January (two more days!) and tick my shoulds.

In the meantime, I need help. I’m behind on a few blogging awards. If you would, leave me a question or two. Some whats, whys and hows. Leave them here and I’ll be so grateful for you and February.



Dark
January 29, 2012, 4:45 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

I heard the nights are wild with magnetic energy. In early hours I stood. But the night sky was dead and even the stars failed to twinkle.



Muck
January 28, 2012, 1:59 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

In my element, I slung mud with gusto. I wallowed; I raced around the shallow pit to pull another tug-of-war victor into that glorious mix of dirt and water. When I stood on the stoop before my mother—in jeans slick with loam and slings of clay-draped hair—my exhilaration ebbed but she was cool and handed me a towel.



What’s up?
January 27, 2012, 2:35 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: , , ,

What’s up?

The sky. That’s a silly joke, get it?

My mom tells me I’m unique. Different than Jerry. He’s my exact twin brother. I don’t know if that’s a joke. I don’t see it. We are both left-handed. We look alike but I’ve something more—a special mole on my nostril. Mom says an angel forgot to wipe off his kiss. And then she kisses me on the same spot and tries to wipe it away.

Today I told her. This time she made me sad. I don’t want to be a dishwasher. I want to be a conductor. Like Jerry does.

Friday Fictioneers

Click to see prompt and find more entries...



Creativity
January 27, 2012, 1:09 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Every month, they reunited on an occasion coinciding with the fullness of the moon. This month, each of the dearly invited conveyed something particular to plunk between two slices of hostess-provided bread, rye, wheat or sour dough? With the procession of ingredients: a bounty of pickles, cheeses and cold cuts, even peanut butter for tots, a largess of greens, onions and tomatoes, not to forget the guests of honor—champagne mustard and herb mayos—even the accountant would make the sandwich of one’s dreams.



One Walk
January 26, 2012, 3:12 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

My pain began when I crossed the street on a walk.  A forgotten toy, a barking puppy, a swing set, shutters the color of sky, a small pair of rubber boots, a red door, a Japanese maple, an illegal fence, a new roof—the facades of the neighborhood watched me double over. I pondered my home, the puzzle inside, counting minutes with footsteps around the block.



Off-course
January 25, 2012, 5:13 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Her sister’s tug woke her. Passengers—mildly hysteric by the sounds of their voices—lined the aisle for the exit. News of their plane backing into another took dreamways recently vacated.



Tiptoe
January 25, 2012, 2:01 AM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges

blind date ayes and nos:
a tiptoe between psyches
in tongues nibbling words


See
Haiku Heights #103, prompt tiptoe



“”
January 24, 2012, 11:29 PM
Filed under: Quotations

You risked your life, but what else have you ever risked? Have you risked disapproval? Have you ever risked economic security? Have you ever risked a belief? I see nothing particularly courageous about risking one’s life. So you lose it, you go to your hero’s heaven and everything is milk and honey ’til the end of time. Right? You get your reward and suffer no earthly consequences. That’s not courage. Real courage is risking something that might force you to rethink your thoughts and suffer change and stretch consciousness. Real courage is risking one’s clichés.

—Tom Robbins, Another Roadside Attraction



Design
January 24, 2012, 3:40 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Me, I’m the girl who wore boys’ underwear. Well, they were snug and stayed on my legs. The flap, when I thought of it, needed improvement—other than that, they fit me.



A Door in a Tree
January 23, 2012, 5:03 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: ,

Folks expect a door in a tree to be tiny—designed for elf and sprite homebodies—and that humans must bend double to pass from world to world. This door was tall; all right, I crooked my neck to cross the threshold of my kingdom.  Inside, there was plenty of frothy Guinness, friends and darts. After a round of golf, I’d order a shandy for my daughter and we’d replay our game. Stolen hours became ritual, our weekly outing, celebrations of  birdies and fifteen foot sinkers. Then, tourists found our niche, sat on our worn benches, and shared pictures of a castle in Paris and a tower in England.

I looked for a piece of land with its own aged baobab. Found one in another country, up the coast. I apologized to it before we began the work of hollowing. It’s a regret I keep: The interior lacked that oxidized, caramel color; my girl flew abroad for a degree; my knees betrayed me on the links. The next time there was a whisper in my ear, it was a nurse with a cup of pills. Another pint, another round.

Click to read entries...Inspiration Mondays prompts...



Box
January 23, 2012, 3:57 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

His body was gently folded in a cedar box, built on the quick. Marky stole out to the garage to dip a hand into cold fur and search for a tremor of movement. Memories waited for the tears on frozen ground.



Six Sentence Sunday
January 22, 2012, 5:40 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges

Current WiP, Judging Jade, rough #1:

She was halfway up the aisle. Twinkling safety lights marked her runway. Upon reaching the double doors, she realized she’d left her notebook. She rolled around to get it. With a sweeping glance she identified most of the dancers on stage. It happened that there was a stranger and he caught Jade’s eye.

Next week, I’ll figure out the rules and link to the official site: 6sentence sunday



Loupe
January 22, 2012, 3:29 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Lydia collected  husbands searching for high-fidelity love. Her stereoscopic view washed over men, all men, evaluating and imagining the tenor of their commitment. An invitation issued, she never told me why she shuffled on my husband.

 

 

 



Straw Memories
January 21, 2012, 5:32 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

In an empty nest, a clean fiend pushes at straws. She turns to find a picture of two naked children dancing in straw skirts. Fingers tremble over an empty space on the refrigerator door.



Date of Birth
January 20, 2012, 2:31 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

We are too old to go to war. The thought should comfort. Too old to scorn compassion; too old to belittle death; too old for guns.



A Not So Kreativ January
January 19, 2012, 4:12 PM
Filed under: Uncategorized

I’ve lost my rut. Between NaNoWriMo, painting, holidays and the paper cluster that is end-of-the-year January, I’ve thrown a switch. I’d like my writing rut back, please. If I could linger with a beautiful word, turn a sentence five ways, take risks with punctuation, I know my rut will reappear in the criss-crosses of doing. Instead, I find myself stressing over events next summer or a desk littered with last year’s receipts.

I’m reminded of something Robert Redford said. I’ve researched, but can’t find the exact words, so must paraphrase and regard my memory as adequate:

“You can’t do your best work unless you are relaxed.”

This may be why I enjoy writing when I first wake up, before the morning bowl of cereal, after the warmth of coffee—it is when I’m most relaxed, before the day’s activities have reminded me of how much I’ve left undone. I’ve rushed over this time this January, but an award has come my way that reminds me to dig in.

And, now, to do,  the Kreativ Blogger Award:

Thank you jmmcdowell.

To learn ten (or more) new things about me, visit this page.

To receive (at your leisure):

1) hyperbatic

2) the yellow kite

3) chriswhitewrites

4) A Side of Writing

5) Scriptor Obscura Writes

I chose these five because they’re working their ruts into pleasant byways, enjoy!



A Stop for Milk
January 19, 2012, 2:33 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

They met before the double doors. He swung his cane into her knees when she directed him with an inadequate, “Here.” Candace squeezed against the door, but stayed in his path, “Here,” to help him pick some meat, preserves, and wine.



Solo
January 18, 2012, 4:18 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Chi-Chi’s animal pavane began in the parking lot. Her hands pushed leopard silk down lovely hips, lingered before the measured step up to the bar. Eye-struck, onlookers ignored the strut of a heart beat to follow her motion.



“”
January 18, 2012, 1:18 AM
Filed under: Quotations

“A bud is a flower-to-be. A flower in waiting. Waiting for just the right warmth and care to open up. It’s a little fist of love waiting to unfold and be seen by the world. And that’s you.”

—Christopher Paul Curtis, Bud Not Buddy



Displaced
January 17, 2012, 2:20 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

My ancestors came from Singapore to settle the suburbs of San Antonio. They bought a house with a paneled den next to a gas station. The neighbors across the street, also immigrants, believed a carpenter.



Fear
January 16, 2012, 2:44 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: ,

I’ve sifted through possibilities. Every day, they become less probable. If wishes were dragons, I’ve nurtured leather-hard eggs. One by one, the eggs rot. My desperation grows. I fuss. I turn. I inspect.

Mythical creatures will play in my back yard. They will be freakish creatures of sweet mercy, if only wishes come true.

 

Click to read entries...Inspiration Mondays prompts...if wishes were dragons...



R and R
January 16, 2012, 2:08 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

The road, barely paved, a curvaceous snake, led from one Pre-Columbian temple to another. Richard, on vacation from Los Angeles, paid little heed to the stop-and-go traffic. He took chances, passing when he could and shouldn’t.



Slate
January 15, 2012, 2:35 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

I went to college—what do I remember? A few professors, but not their lectures. A few students, but their names have changed.



Earth+
January 14, 2012, 2:31 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Kyle followed a gull’s path–did gulls fly this far south? The land below was white, wrinkled damp paper. The hand on the monitor grabbed and pulled and Kyle flew.



Disquiet
January 13, 2012, 2:21 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: , , ,

They became insane: Worse than any flood, they felt the anguish of  an undeserved war. Worse than any fire, it never ended. Caught by hate, they nursed thoughts of revenge in paraplegic bodies.

They numbered few pleasures: When winds raged, they rent limbs. Satisfied with earthquakes and hurricanes, they blessed a fallen neighbor’s shower of bricks. The hole, another scar, left.

Without mouths, without ears or eyes, they understood our ruthless narcissism. Breathless, they fought back. In unison.

Their combat methods improved, unnoticed as a firmly pressed mouth: Soldiers in an outdated army, they dropped tiny acorns, bombs of mutation.

Friday Fictioneers

Click to see prompt and find more entries...



Trapped
January 13, 2012, 1:05 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

Somehow it happened that the car door shut while her foot dangled on the threshold. Her toes sucked inside; canvas and rubber caught the press. Too afraid to cry dismay, Ellie wiggled her toes all the way home.



Shift
January 12, 2012, 2:00 PM
Filed under: Three Sentence Stories

He spent more time mapping the small of her back than her face. From the bed, he watched her hang upside down to use a blow dryer before she left. At night, when he left for work, sheets swaddled her hips.