Posted in "Monday Morning Coffee", #8Sunday, Blogfest Entries, Business Startup, Published Works, Short Stories, Weekend Writing Warriors, Weekly Features, Writers' Resources, Writing Sample

Of Battenberg Lace for #WeWriWa #8Sunday

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors’ Eight Sentence Sunday!

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

Monday Morning Coffee” has been with me since I was sixteen. A local boy with schizophrenia wandered away from his family at a large outdoor event. Several days later, he was found, deceased.

From that story came this one – the connection might not be clear to anyone but me – but it’s there.

Context:


Rose is at work on a Monday morning, contemplating the gift given to her by a shabbily dressed man, and beginning to see her m life in new ways….

Of Battenberg Lace

How can Jeremy afford to eat there, or have this kind of money, and claim not to need it?

Another question –

Why have I spent so many days hunched and huddled away in this desolate little office?

Jeremy created beauty, in only a few moments, with only a newspaper and his skills. I have time and abundance, and yet, this space is devoid of character. What did that say, about me?

I’ve never before imagined what my office could be. There’s a window high up in this basement – it’s bare, but I can reach it, and there’s a shelf beneath where I could place potted flowers. Curtains would add softness. I’ve always been fond of Battenburg lace…

What makes Jeremy and Rose so different?

Will Rose act on her new ideas?

Will she meet Jeremy again?

Why does he want to meet her there?

Any guesses?

Monday Morning Coffee” was originally published in the 2015 edition of World Unknown Review. Since I retain all rights beyond first publication, I intend to revise the story and use it as my initial self-published offering.

I’m running a bit earlier this week. I’d love to say it’s that I’ve gotten everything into order, and things are ticking along like a train on the track….but if I did, I’d be giving you a second work of fiction.

Honestly, it’s that I’m not likely to have time or focus to do this tomorrow or Saturday, as I’ll be spending both days away from home – exploring cafes with my best-friend-since-forever; and then a homecoming party.

Then, Sunday and Monday, we’ve got the final markets at two of our venues. It’s going to seem strange not going there each week – but next weekend, our round of fall festivals, craft fairs, and even a large swap meet kick into a higher gear for the next several weeks.

We’re also expanding a bit. I’m experimenting with adding some writing to what we offer, and we’ll also be launching our “gift buckets” – an actual royal blue bucket with either 3 or 5 sauces. We can make a few ahead, or make them custom to guests’ tastes.

But first – posting this, and finally getting around to those visits I’ve been trying to make all week!


Until we meet again, may you and yours be well!

Get more #8Sunday reading!

Posted in "Monday Morning Coffee", #8Sunday, Blogfest Entries, Published Works, Short Stories, Weekend Writing Warriors, Weekly Features, Writing Sample

This Riddle of A Man for #WeWriWa #8Sunday

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors Eight Sentence Sunday!

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

Monday Morning Coffee” has been with me since I was sixteen. A local boy with schizophrenia wandered away from his family at a large outdoor event. Several days later, he was found, deceased.

From that story came this one – the connection might not be clear to anyone but me – but it’s there.

Context:


Rose is at work on a Monday morning, exploring the gift given to her by a shabbily dressed man, when she discovers something unexpected.

This Riddle of A Man

It’s a hundred dollar bill, crisp and new, as though it’s never been used or folded, until it became a thorn. Had it been in his paper, the whole time?

It reminds me of a fortune cookie – and, as I open it, a folded slip of paper is revealed, like a fortune tucked within the thorn.

Who is this riddle of a man? How could he have a hundred dollar bill, or give it away, when his own need was so great? The money is the thorn, the sticking point. I set it aside, not understanding it, and take up the little piece of paper, unfolding it until it’s about the size of a business card. There’s a message, written in a tiny, precise hand:

“Greetings,

Your kindness went beyond guilt, or a token gesture, and has touched me deeply.

Who exactly IS Jeremy?

Where did he get the money?

Is there more to his note?

Any guesses?

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 use it as my initial self-published offering.

Last week, I totally forgot to do an #8Sunday post – until about Monday afternoon! I think the fact that I posted the previous segment, “The Thorn,” early in the week prior (after prepping it and forgetting to post it the week before), threw me off.

Or it was working a two day festival the week after our son turned 16, the legal driving age in our state…

Either way, I forgot, and unintentionally left people hanging with a mysterious amount of unfortunately imaginary money…hopefully, I’ve answered that question, at least.

I’ve also found a way at last to work visits into my weekly routine, so I’ll be better at those from this point forward.

Read more #8Sunday right here!

Posted in #8Sunday, Blogfest Entries, Writing in Freedom, Writing Samples

Society Threw Him Away for #WeWriWa #8Sunday

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors’ Eight Sentence Sunday!

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

Monday Morning Coffee” has been with me since I was sixteen. A local boy with schizophrenia wandered away from his family at a large outdoor event. Several days later, he was found, deceased.

From that story came this one – the connection might not be clear to anyone but me – but it’s there.

Context:


Rose is at work on a Monday morning, but she can’t escape from memories of the ragged, compelling man she met at the train station.


Society Threw Him Away

I’ve never made a point of lingering to exchange greetings. I reach the stairs that lead to my office, and descend, alone. But the rose is in my bag, and I can feel Jeremy’s kisses across my forehead. I’m not as alone as I’ve been every other Monday.

Remembering the coat that couldn’t keep him warm, and his chapped hands moving with such confident artistry, warms me and, at the same time, chills me. I imagine him sitting in the coffee shop, no longer huddled, breathing in the rich smells, sipping and eating while he indulges in his paper. Society threw him away without noticing the quick intelligence in his eyes, or the kindness in his gentle voice – but I notice, and I won’t throw him away, in my own heart, even if I never see him again.

The familiar cogs of my day stick, then lurch forward again, reminding me of the train.

Will Rose return to the station to see Jeremy?

Is he safe and warm in the coffee shop?

What’s next?

Any guesses?

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 use it as my initial self-published offering.

This week, Shakespeare in the Park with my teen was a go. We saw A Winter’s Tale – I had no prior exposure to the play, so it was fresh. I liked much of it – although I found the ending rather too indicative of the way women were viewed in that era, and too often still are today.

I’m still recovering from four months of writing challenges. Much of this week was taken up by working on my husband’s new hot sauce business, and then homeschool reporting. Nearly finished with that, at least, and then things will settle down enough that I can make the rounds to other Eight Sentence Sunday writers – I’ve missed you all!

And, on that note….

Check out more #8Sunday!

Posted in Blogfest Entries, Just for Fun!, Stream of Consciousness Saturday, Writers' Resources, Writing in Freedom, Writing Samples

A Music of Their Sorrow for #SoCS August 5, 2017

High above, the venting holes for the cookfires showed the stars. Niaan remembered a time when she’d lain on the ledge, demanding to see the stars. Kaivelt’s stars. Xanaas had stood for her, even against the Huntleader’s wishes, made walls of furs so that she could see, and still be warm and tended.

She’d dreamed of Kaivelt – but he was absent from her mind, now, as he sometimes was.

She needed him now, but he was out there somewhere circling a small yellow star on a planet called Earth, or Terra 3. Strange, faraway names. Would that world sing to him, as Aletris once had for her?

If the stars were lower, closer to the ground of her world, could she reach up, and dance her way back to Kaivelt, as she had when she was a child, and so was he?

Would they ever come together, truly?

“Huntleader?”

“I’m not your -” But she stopped herself. She couldn’t continue to refuse the name they’d given to her, or the role it assigned to her. Tacivaar was gone, stalking her as his prey. Shinjao was gone, off to seek what was needed for the days to come. Xanaas was gone to the End Hunt – or whatever awaited a healer who had served long and with compassion. Sylain and Teslyn did as much as they could – but they were not Hunters, and not Trueborn, and had not the knowing that came of all those lessons trapped in the stifling little room in Mother’s Keep, meant to make a Kai out of her while Vaara was hidden away in a forgotten chamber.

“I beg pardon of you, Huntleader -”

Teslyn’s voice was soft, hesitant – lost, as Niaan had never thought to hear it. They were all lost. The Tribeless who had escaped with their lives, and nothing more than those. The wounded, some of whom still might not live, even more so now that Xanaas did not.

All of the Pridekeep, lost, bereft of their Huntleader, so that they put her in his place, and made of her what they had need of from her.

“No pardon is needed of me, Teslyn. I beg mine of you. I heard the child’s missive, and did nay come.”

“I would I had nay need of you. Sleep is what Sylain says Xanaas ordered…but there is no other fit to light his pyre. I thought mayhap you would -”

“Yes. It will be honor to offer him his Final Welcoming.” She pried herself out of the nest. She could smell the fires, and the lingering scent of those Welcomed yesternight, and the two nights before. How many more nights, before there were no more dead to tend to?

She followed Teslyn to the entrance of the Pridekeep, wondering why her limbs felt like the heaviest of Osiraan’s branches.

She heard the Pride before she saw them. They made a music of their sorrow, with all notes woven into the tapestry. Her mind played with the thought of Rachyl weaving this song into patterns and colors – the borders the lowest of the moans and the highest keening wails….

This post is my entry for Linda G.Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday (#SoCS), where the weekly prompt was “high/low.” It is a brand-new snippet from my novel-draft-in-progress, Foul Deeds Will Rise, part of my Trueborn series.

Posted in #8Sunday, Blogfest Entries, Writing in Freedom, Writing Samples

A Rare Music for #WeWriWa #8Sunday

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors’ Eight Sentence Sunday!

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

Monday Morning Coffee” has been with me since I was sixteen. A local boy with schizophrenia wandered away from his family at a large outdoor event. Several days later, he was found, deceased.

From that story came this one – the connection might not be clear to anyone but me – but it’s there.

Context:


Rose remembers the words of a shabbily dressed man she met on her commute to work.


A Rare Music

“Why do they all look through me or past me, or at me as though I’m dog droppings on their shoes?”

Within his rough and reddened fingers, behind his downcast eyes, there was the vision and sensitivity to create this masterpiece from a simple newspaper page. It catches like a stick in the cogs of my assumptions, the familiar boredom of my Monday life.

As the train slows for my stop, my finger traces the thorn and the leaf – the leaf’s edges are softly serrated, but the thorn’s point pricks sharply. I slip the rose into my bag, placing it carefully so it won’t be crushed or torn. It will be hidden, my secret talisman, glowing in my soul.

As I walk the two blocks to the university library, the crunch and cadence of my boots in the crust of snow, the beat of my heart, the passing of my steaming breath, make a rare music.

No one takes note of my arrival; the other staff members are chatting or occupied with their own business.

Will Rose return to her workaday life?

Will she ever see Jeremy again?

What will she do now?

Any guesses?


Monday Morning Coffee” was originally published in the 2015 edition of World Unknown Review, Since I retain all rights beyond first publication, I intend to revise the story and use it as my initial self-published offering.

Yesterday was my birthday. Had a chance to go to Shakespeare in the Park with my teen son and fellow fan of the Bard. But a minor car issue reset our plans – and, instead, I had a quiet evening at home, with my favorite goat cheese crouton, poached pear, and pecan salad, topped with my Accomplice’s blackberry pomegranate dressing.

It was a good night – and there’s another play next week. =D

Get more #8Sunday here!

Posted in #8Sunday, Blogfest Entries, Marketing my Writing, Writing in Freedom, Writing Samples

Sharing the Wind for #WeWriWa #8Sunday

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors’ Eight Sentence Sunday!

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

Monday Morning Coffee” has been with me since I was sixteen. A local boy with schizophrenia wandered away from his family at a large outdoor event. Several days later, he was found, deceased.

From that story came this one – the connection might not be clear to anyone but me – but it’s there.

Context:

Rose has just made a confession to Jeremy, but then is afraid to hear his response. We pick up from that point…

Sharing the Wind

Can’t bear to risk that his ‘perhaps’ means ‘no’. I burst up, nearly upsetting the latte before Jeremy rescues it. I try to look back, but the other commuters are jostling and pushing for the car entrances, a tsunami that sweeps me away from him.

I get the last station-side window seat – nearest the door, and the cold wind that will enter every time it opens. But I don’t mind that – I’ll be sharing the wind with Jeremy, and I’m dressed more warmly than he is. I find where the thinning crowd leaves a bench in solitude, and there he is, watching me as he sips his latte. He lifts the mug in silent salute, his smile wide and crinkling the corners of his blue eyes. He mouths something. Fellow human, I think.

Will Rose ever see Jeremy again?

Does Jeremy want to see her?

What’s next for these two?

Any guesses?

If you’re looking for more #8Sunday, click this link, or the icon below!

Monday Morning Coffee” was originally published in the 2015 edition of World Unknown Review, Since I retain all rights beyond first publication, I intend to revise the story and use it as my initial self-published offering.