Sparkle bright

I am joining in the fun led by Miss Sonya: three line tales. She gives the pic and we decide exactly what our three lines consist of. Read the other tales by searching the tag “three line tales.” If you want to join in, check out the directions HERE.

three line tales week 85: sparkler and sunglasses

The light flared, cascading gold and silver sparkles over his hands. He thrust his hand up, waving the wand wildly, attempting to write his name in light before the end.

Then, movement below caught his eye.  Hard shiny carapaces glinted back at him in the glittering light. The final spark fell.

His eyes, blind from the bright sparks,  strained to pierce the utter blackness as he heard the clicking of hundreds of feet on the cement.



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Walking Miss Daisy, II

Daisy and I went for a leisurely walk last Saturday.  The sky was such a clear, pure blue, with just a few fluffy clouds floating. Fall is coming early to our area, and it is quite beautiful. I put the pictures from our last walk on my other blog, Runnerwithablog, but I thought I would share these here.

 Shadow selfie–the best kind of picture of me! Daisy, of course, is always photogenic….if not happy to be still.


 Architectural Antiques are scattered through my neighborhood. And, indeed, the state.

Fall colors are coming slowly to our local bogs, lemony grasses and seed pods abound

  I have always loved these trees high up on cliff cut away in our local gravel pit. They stand so stark and proud.

 The light at the end of the hill!


My imagination runs wild in the woods, bringing up dreams of Narnia or Tolkien.

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Word Prompts

Looking for inspiration, I ran into the WordPress Daily Press prompts in my blog reader.  They had a few words (they put one out each day), but I stopped at Grainy.  What a marvelous word. There’s the grain in various woods, the grain I feed my horses, multi grain bread, against the grain; the possibilities are endless. I have to admit the first thing I thought of was whole grain mustard, like a spicy Grey Poupon.

The Fair

“I want to break up,” Chris said.

Amanda paused, the warm flavor of her hotdog, mixed with fresh bread and the artisan mustard, which she could only get here at the Tomgate fair, fading on her tongue. The sounds of the fair, the giggles and shouts as the rides dipped and swayed, the barkers at the game stands, the chatter at the bingo tables, dimmed around her. Who brings someone to a fair to break up with them, she thought wildly. it was their anniversary date!

“I mean,” he rushed on, “I think we both should date other people. You’re great Amanda, I just want…”

“To date other people, ” she finished, carefully putting her hotdog on the plate in her lap.

“Have you started dating other people?” she inquired politely.

“Oh, um, no, of course not,” he answered, avoiding her eyes. “I wanted to talk to you. It’s not like I have anyone in mind,  I have been just feeling for  awhile like you might want to move on.”

“And, I’m ok with it,” he added hastily. “I think it might be better for both of us.”

“I see,” she said carefully. “It sounds like you have given this a lot of thought. Why don’t we walk around a bit while I think about it too?”

“Ok,” he replied, clearly relieved she was being so calm.

Amanda led the way through the fair, mulling  her options. Chris, feeling relaxed as they wandered peacefully, actually reached his hand out to hold hers, before remembering and dropping it.

Finally she stopped in front of the Tunnel of Love ride. Turning smiling to Chris, she took his hand.

“Why don’t we take it one last time?”

“Sure,” he agreed, remembering how they had ridden it last year, giggling and snuggling.

He paid the fare, then they sat in the little boat. Each boat traveled out of sight of the others, so that it had privacy. Amanda leaned against him, snuggling under his arm,  until they were half way through the ride.

“I think you might be right,” she whispered, withdrawing from him. “We probably should break up.”

She stood suddenly and swung her purse directly at his head. The heavy bag knocked him unconscious as it flipped him over the side of the boat. Amanda stood watching, realizing as he sank that he had the truck keys.

“Well, damn!”





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It’s the anniversary of my blog!

Not on WordPress, as I started on another platform for six months before discovering WordPress. But I started this journey on my 45th birthday. I actually started with my fitness blog, it wasn’t until I got to WordPress that I decided to split into two. And now, two years later, how do I feel?

Well, I feel that I don’t blog enough! The writing often gets pushed to the back of my life, when I meant it to be a priority. I freely admit that sometimes at the end of a long day, it is simply easier to stare blankly at the tv until bed time than it is to make my fingers move across the keyboard. And I have been reading a LOT recently. Which is good in theory, but I will push EVERYTHING in my life to the back burner in order to read just one more page…..and one more…..then, well, can’t I just finish it??

So now, on my 47th birthday, I am reaffirming my desire to make writing a priority.

I truly doubt life will get easier, but I will try to prevent the writing to being pushed around. Not that I will stop watching tv, of course, but I can type while watching–doesn’t that drive my husband nuts, that I can hold a conversation and still be typing!  I am slightly dyslexic and slightly ADD, but there are some upsides: I can multitask like nobody’s business! Focusing on simply one thing, now, that is the hard part. IE: I am drifting off course. Back to the goal of my blog being a priority, I will work on making that goal a priority!



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Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

I made it!!  Once more I joined Priceless Joy’s group of aspiring writers. We are given 100-150 words and a photo prompt, our imagination does the rest. Check out the other stories inspired by the photo:    Thanks this week to TJ Paris for the cool picture. Makes one want to jump right in!

She lay on the beach, torpid, as the sun stared down at her.  Crystal water stretched far into the horizon. She dug her feet into the sand, seeking the cooler sand deep under the surface, closing her eyes against light bouncing off the gleaming sand.  Crashing crystalline waves lulled her, and she slept.

“Samantha! Samantha!” the shouting continued, the irritation in the voice indicating it had been going on for some time. “Wake up!”

She opened her eyes groggily, seeing only a shadow standing over her.

“Wake up,” the voice insisted. “Vacation is over. Time to get back to work.”

“Waaa? But, sleep!”

“No!” the voice said emphatically, ” you need to get back to work. Your blog is lonely! Get on it!”

She sighed deeply before getting up and folding her towel, knowing the voice was her subconsciousness–and it wasn’t going away.

143 words


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Today, past and present

A literary milestone was published on this day in 1951:

Cover features a crude drawing of a Carousel horse (pole visible entering the neck and exiting below on the chest) with a city skyline visible in the distance under the hindquarters. The cover is two-toned: everything below the horse is whitish while the horse and everything above it is a reddish orange. The title appears at the top in big dirty yellow letters against the reddish orange background. It is split into two lines after "Catcher". At the bottom in the whitish background are the words "a novel by J. D. Salinger".    While Salinger had written numerous short stories, Catcher in the Rye was his first actual novel to be published. Written for adults, it quickly caught the imagination of teens everywhere. Holden Caulfield, the main character,  became an icon of teenage angst and rebellion. 

The novel itself also had a storied career, as one of the first teachers to assign it for class reading was fired. The teacher was later reinstated, but Catcher was banned from 1962 to 1981 in the United States.  In ’81, Catcher in the Rye was both the most censored and yet also the second most taught book in US public schools.

While it may not have been read in classrooms, it nevertheless developed a healthy following. Today around 1 million copies are sold each year with total sales of more than 65 million books.*  (Don’t shoot me when I say I preferred Franny and Zoey.)

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I seem to be taking a fiction vacation. But I will return!! Just enjoying all the summer weather and I don’t feel much like opening my computer….and when I do, my attention seems focused on my other blog about fitness. But the stories will build and spill out of me soon enough 🙂

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Cliche Sunday

Here we go–the end of the alphabet! Following tradition, I will be doing X, Y, &Z in one lump.  Sadly, the X’s seem nonexistent–which is not truly a surprise.

Now that I have reached the end of the alphabet,  Cliche Sunday is also taking a break. Frankly, my weekends are so very busy, it is hard to get Cliche Sunday out. As you may have noticed by the amount of skipped weeks recently! I do have some ideas for some other serial posts–just not on Sunday 🙂 So stay tuned.

And I am sure there will be a resurgence of Cliche Sunday. Maybe in October?

you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink: people, like horses, will only do what they want, when they want.  This cliché started life as a proverb,  very, very long time ago, which can attest to its popularity. The earliest written copy of it was 1175, in Old English Homilies:

Hwa is thet mei thet hors wettrien the him self nule drinken
[who can give water to the horse that will not drink of its own accord?]

you are what you eat: the idea eating good food is best for you if you want to be healthy. This phrase has been around a bit longer than one might think. I thought its roots was likely to be in the 1970s, when the modern health craze hit.  However, the cliché began in  France in 1826:

Dis-moi ce que tu manges, je te dirai ce que tu es. [Tell me what you eat and I will tell you what you are].
   Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, Physiologie du Gout, ou Meditations de Gastronomie Transcendante

Later, Ludwig Andreas Feuerbach shortened it a bit:

Der Mensch ist, was er ißt. (man is what he eats)
Concerning Spiritualism and Materialism, 1863

The modern iteration of the phrase came to be in the 1920s when Victor Lindlahr came up with the Catabolic  Diet:

  Ninety per cent of the diseases known to man are caused by cheap foodstuffs. You are what you eat.

zero tolerance: a policy that allows no behavior to be overlooked. This has been a popular phrase in schools recently, having a “zero tolerance” for bullying. The cliché actually came out of the American 70s, when it was used to describe police action in areas with specialized high crime–drugs, mugging, prostitution, etc.  It was used more in the 80s during the War on Drugs, and also by the Food and Drug Admin to describe their policy on pesticides allowable in food.

zig-zag: the literal meaning of a series of straight lines joined at angles, used to describe a course of action. The popularity of the term is similar to other phonetically alternated phrases, like see-saw or tick-tock. The origin of this one is not known, although the earliest known  versions are either German or Dutch, suggesting that it came to English second.

“eenige in de voorstad van St. Germain zig zag bewegen  (some in the surburb of St Germain move in zig zag)
Dutch author Roelof Roukema, 1706

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Friday Fictioneers

Ok, so I know I missed Friday. But I wanted to join the roundup led by Rochelle! I have been missing in action for weeks.

So here is my entry for the Friday Fictioneers, the story group she leads with a photo prompt and 100 words (more or less, I went a bit more this time). Make sure to check out all the other marvelous stories HERE. Thanks to Sarah Potter for our great photo this week 🙂

 Vegan Vengeance

“Wow,” Greg said, sliding his finger along a blood-red, velvety flower. “What a greenhouse!”

“Thanks, ” Silla said. “I make my own special fertilizer. Wanna see?”

She led the way into the back of the greenhouse, wandering past long tables of flowers and vegetables before stopping.

“What’s this?” asked Greg uneasily, staring at the slick metal slab with straps.  He turned to Silla, eyes widening as he saw the mallet; before collapsing on the table.

Silla smiled as she tucked the cattle rancher in, tugging the straps quite tight before starting the IV. She nodded at her plants as Greg’s blood slid into her mixer, already filled with bone meal from the last cowboy.

“There,” Silla said in satisfaction, “now instead of him killing animals, he’ll be helping you guys grow.


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Cliche Sunday…….kinda

I found the single-word prompt from WordPress again, this one being “trace.” I turned it over and over in my mind, thinking of all the different meanings I could use. But two ideas  kept circling in my brain: country singers and the cliché “without a trace.”  Happily, today’s Cliche Sunday is for W, and this post was born 🙂

“Bri, what’s wrong? It’s a party, ya know.”

“Oh, he left,” Bri sighed. “Just put on that cowboy hat and swaggered out the door.”

“Oh dear,” Marge said. Everyone  had seen it coming. Even Bri.  “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, he had a rodeo down past Austin and I guess he didn’t wanna cheat on me, or miss out on any fun. So he broke up with me. What a jerk.”

“But a good-looking one, with broad shoulders,” Marge sighed a bit herself. “We were all living a bit vicariously through you.”

Dana left her group to see what they were talking about.

“Well, you know you are going to be better off.  Now you can find someone to relax with,” she said.

“I know, I know, you’re right,” Bri answered. “But he was so exciting…and the way he looked in those cowboy boots!”

“Cowboy boots aren’t everything,” Marge put in. “Even if they seem like they should be. Although, he did make that cowboy hat look damn good.”

“Girls, girls, focus!” Dana announced. “Let’s raise our glasses! Here is a toast to Bri, starting a new phase of her life–without a Trace!”



without a trace:  without leaving any signs to show where something or someone had been.  A trace, in this instance (although there are other meanings) , is a sign which shows you that someone or something has been in a location.  The cliché itself is very hard to find an origin on. The word trace itself can be, pardon the pun, traced back to the fourteenth century. A Middle English word that derived from the Latin “tractiare,” meaning to drag, as well as Latin “tractus”–to pull. The cliché was popular enough in the early 2000s to start a TV show of the name on CBS. 

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