Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors’
It’s the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! We’ve got a variety of genres and talented writers just waiting for you to come sample their wordy wares. Come read one, or all!
If you’re inclined to share your own 8-10 sentence snippet, follow the link and sign up. It’s a great community to be a part of! =D
Just a quick note today: I’ve already written lots of words in lots of places this week, and I’d like to wrap up a few other things before midnight, when my “accounting” week ends.
I owe you all an apology: I’ve been lousy about getting around to folks or answering comments lately. I can’t exactly say why, except that I’ve been doing other things, and, when I look up, a truly embarrassing amount of time has gone by, but I just have these three other things I’m * soclose * to finishing, and then there are more ideas, more things to do and see, people to chat with, hug, laugh with, and love, purring cats, things to read, and…
I’m guessing you get the idea, and that it probably bothers me more than you, since I’m sure you have full or maybe sometimes overflowing lives of your own.
I’ll be around more, this week. It’s a priority. You are a priority.
See you soon, but, till then….a fitting snippet.
“Monday Morning Coffee” has been with me since I was sixteen. A local teenaged boy with schizophrenia wandered away from his family at a large outdoor event, and, several days later, was found, deceased.
From that story came this one – the connection might not be clear to anyone but me – but it’s there.
A young commuter has offered her coffee to the poorly dressed man who was watching her.
The Press of Time
I wave the coffee almost close enough to his nose to be impolite, driven by the press of time. I want him to have this; want to know that I’m not leaving him huddled and yearning. But there is also something that demands I make more than the empty gesture; that I give him not only my coffee, but something of myself. “I’m Rose, and it will please me greatly if you will take this, and enjoy it.”
A smile tickles at the corners of his mouth. “I accept only that which I can pay for. Therefore, I will accept your name, kind Rose, and give you my own. I am called Lost Jeremy.”
Will Lost Jeremy finally accept the coffee?
Will he insist on paying?
Will Rose make her train?
Any guesses you’d like to share?
“Monday Morning Coffee” was originally published in the 2015 edition of World Unknown Review, edited by L.S. Engler. Since I retain all rights beyond first publication, I intend to revise the story and add it as my own self-published library.