Short Story – Page 14 – The Elephant's Trunk

Nancy, Enchanted

May 28, 2024May 27, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Sadje’s What Do You See #240

Come in, little one. You’ve nothing to fear from me. Don’t be shy now. Come away from the door where you are peeking and step inside. This is my enchanted place, my special magic space.

That’s it, child, one step at a time. Look around to your heart’s content. There’s nothing bad here. But I must caution you not to touch anything. The time will come for that and you must be patient.

Ah, I see you’ve noticed my book. It’s lovely, isn’t it? I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen one quite like it, have you? You have many questions, little one. They’re in you eyes, in the slight tilt of your head and the almost imperceptible upturn of your lips. It’s pleasing, is it not, this little book of mine?

It’s magic, you know. But then again, in the right hands, all books are magic. Yes it’s true. You hold the key, child. Not in your pocket or inside your shoe but in your mind and in your heart.

Come closer, child. Read from the book, listen to what it tells you. Enchanting, isn’t it? No need to touch, my dear. The pages will turn themselves.

I know what you’re thinking. Where can you get such a wondrous book? Am I right? I knew it! They’re all around you, child! Everywhere! But I have something special to share with you. Come close to hear my secret. Let me whisper in your ear.

My dear, not only can you read these beguiling pages. You can write them! Imagine the places you will visit, child.

There’s nothing to fear, little one. Simply step inside the blue bubble and all will become clear to you. That’s it, child. Step inside the magic land of books and dreams and amazing ideas. It’s a captivating place. Enchanting, isn’t it?

NAR©2024
#WDYS

Dedicated to my 7^th grade teacher, Mrs. Romana Paschal, who encouraged me to write and whispered in my ear to reach for the all the dreams, little and big.

This is “Dream Weaver” by Gary Wright

What do you see # 240 – May 27, 2024

Short Story

Fallen Soldier

May 26, 2024May 24, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are
encouraged to be creative in 250 words or less
using the photo prompt below. Originally written in 2022
as a 750-word story, this is my revamped submission.

I stood at the bedroom window staring at the devastation caused by the previous night’s storm. My wife Dianna is going to be crushed when she sees what happened during the night – Mother Nature at her fiercest. I heard Dianna stirring in bed.

“Mike, it’s so early. What’s wrong?” she asked sleepily.

“We had a pretty bad storm last night. It’s not good, hon. We lost some trees” I replied.

She threw off the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, feet skimming the floor searching for discarded slippers. “Not Red. Please don’t say we lost Red!”

Dianna gasped loudly at the sight before her, then the tears came. She cried for a long time. I held her and let her cry; this was not something carelessly brushed aside or easily forgotten.

Finally her sobs lessened and with a broken heart and a weakened voice she sighed, “Poor Red! How I loved that beautiful old tree. Look at him now, a fallen soldier.”

We sat on the bed side by side; I spoke tenderly. “There’s no shame in mourning the loss of a tree. It’s not silly. It is, after all, a living thing. Does it feel pain when a leaf is plucked or a branch broken? Does it thirstily lap the rain after a dry spell? Does it feel your heartbeat as you rest a weary back against its old, sturdy trunk? How can we presume such things are not possible? No, it’s not silly at all.“

NAR©2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-24/05/24

This is “Falling (Death Of A Tree)” by Over The Rhine

Short Story

The Proofreader

May 25, 2024May 25, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are
encouraged to get creative in 250 words or less
using the photo below as inspiration. This is my story

Dear God in heaven! How the hell I’m supposed to get through this book is beyond me!

I’ve been at it now for hours and I’m bored stiff. I don’t know who this guy thinks he is but I’ll tell you what he’s not …. a good writer! I’ve read menus more interesting than this rot!

Jeez Louise! I’ve come across some real clunkers in my day but this one is totally b-o-r-i-n-g. Haul out the woodchipper!

The owner of the small publishing business behind me, Miss Willow Everwood, is my boss; I work there as a proofreader and I really like my job but reading this book is torture. Miss Everwood spotted me dozing off on the chair and demanded I sit on the hard pavement to keep from getting too comfortable and falling asleep. She even said she didn’t want me rooting around inside until I was done with my job.

Well, now my limbs are as stiff as an old hickory stick, my noggin feels like it’s full of sawdust and my butt’s as hard as a slab of redwood. I swear if I have to keep reading this, I’m going to nod off right here in the middle of the sidewalk and start sawing wood.

If I had a rope I’d hang myself from the nearest tree! But I’m not about to get all sappy.

Well, good luck to this Tolkien guy if he thinks he’s going to make it with these creepy Ent people!

NAR©2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-24/05/24

This is Rob Inglis with “Ents and Entwives”

Short Story

Perfect Day For Planting

May 23, 2024May 22, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Six Sentence Story where we are asked
to be creative in no more than six sentences
using the word “light”. This is my story.

Colette, typically looking away the second I snap a photo! Eyeroll!

We got a late start with spring cleaning in our yard, especially along the side of the house where our attached garage is located; even though the gardeners had cleared a lot of old shrubbery away for some new plants and bushes, it was just not meant to be after we were derailed by the sudden death of my husband’s twin brother on April 2 and me being sidelined since the first week of May by a major sinus infection (the heavy-duty antibiotics have left me “out of commission” and able to eat only extremely light meals or, at times, nothing at all).

In mid-May, we put in a couple of small white azaleas, relocated a baby rhododendron which wasn’t doing well in the far back corner of the yard and planted a bit of Blue Bugle and Lilies of the Valley for light ground cover (along the side of the house, not visible in this pic), but that’s as far as our broken spirits and depleted bodies would allow us go.

When Colette is here with us (Tuesdays, Thursdays and the occasional Saturday or Sunday) and the weather is good, she wants to be outside; hell, even if the weather isn’t good, she wants to be outside – a phenomenon about most children that escapes me as they (well, she definitely) seem to be impervious to heat or cold or rain or snow or wind – all the elements, times when Bill and I would prefer being inside nestled in our recliners with a lightweight blanket.

Speaking of nestled, we discovered that sparrows had made their nest in an old watering can in the corner of Colette’s playhouse; the mama and papa birds are very resourceful, building the new home in a location almost invisible to us, one which I discovered quite by accident when I heard a faint chirping noise coming from the playhouse and …. with my trusty flashlight in hand …. I went to take a peek but was immediately dive-bombed by a wildly protective kamikaze sparrow which, when it sped just inches by my head, had me believing it was a small bat …. terrifying!

Tuesday the temps soared to a scorching 86ºF – a leap from the mild low-70s of just the day before – so it was, according to Colette, the “perfect day for planting!” …. a concept I did not agree with thinking it was too hot and we would be in direct blazing sunlight for the entire time …. but I did not object (mainly because the child could not be dissuaded and it was far less taxing than yet another round of the Disney edition of Monopoly); armed with our faithful spades, Bill with his macho shovel and pitchfork, we planted another azalea along the side of the house, then Colette and I pulled all the weeds and detritus from the two ancient cement planters on either side of the bench you see in the above photo, replacing all of what was growing in them as haphazardly as Albert Einstein’s hair with two bright pink kalanchoe plants, then stood back to proudly bask in the glory of our gardening prowess.

Of course, manual labor such as that demands a reward and certainly not a monetary one which would be looked upon with disdain and confusion by a 4-year-old whose idea of recompense consists solely of instant gratification in the form of ice cream – the I-don’t-give-a-hoot-how-messy-I-get kind – and after getting Colette situated in her pink fairy chair, pinning up her waist-length hair and snapping on the 15-year-old bib we originally used for our first grandchild, Mckenna, I disappeared into the kitchen and returned with fudge-covered vanilla ice cream pops for Colette and Bill and a lemon ice for me; judging by the look on her face and the twinkling, totally satisfied light in her eyes (photo below), Colette was over the moon with her sweet, sloppy treat and …. you know …. she was right after all about it being the “perfect day for planting!”

It’s Thursday’s Six Sentence Story Link Up!

This is “Let It Grow” by Eric Clapton

Short Story

And Then He Knows – Revisited

May 18, 2024May 17, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for The Unicorn Challenge
(with a timely lead-in from yesterday’s
Friday Fictioneers). Here we are challenged
to be creative in 250 words or less
using the photo below. This is my story.

© Ayr/Gray
‘Domestic animals, even on leads, are banned from the beach from 6am – 9pm’

He walked on the beach with his dog just as he always did. He saw the sign but ignored it, happy to see someone had vandalized it. Damn rules!

He threw the ball but when the dog returned, he had a purse hanging from his mouth. He dropped the purse and ran back to where he found it.

Looking in the purse, the man saw a cell phone. Hers. Last call was to him. Chasing the dog, he saw a body sprawled on the rocks near the water.

And before he got any closer, he knew it was his wife.

A flood of questions hit him like a tsunami. What happened? Why didn’t he get her call? What was she doing here …. not just here on the beach .… here in Cannes?

She was supposed to be in Lyon finalizing the sale of her late mother’s apartment. Her mother died five years ago and for reasons only she could explain but never did, she refused to get rid of the place.

He quickened his pace to the body. The dog kept nudging her head and running around wildly on the deserted beach. The man looked at her phone again; there were numerous calls to someone named Roman. An unfamiliar name.

He heard a voice. “Monsieur! You are not supposed to be here with that dog! There are rules.” The local gendarmerie. Then louder, more urgently – “What have you done, monsieur? Do not move! Ici! Dépêchez-vous!”

And the whistles blew.

NAR©2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-17/05/24

This is “Who Let The Dogs Out” by Baha Men. Hey, hippie-ye-yo!

Short Story

The Continuing Adventures of George and Martha, Vol. 3: Chicken Scratch

May 11, 2024November 6, 2025 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are asked to get
creative in 250 words or less using this photo as inspiration.
Here is my story. If you would like to read previous adventures
of George and Martha, you may click here and here.

Continue reading →

Short Story

View From The Bridge

May 4, 2024May 4, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written in response to The Unicorn Challenge
where we are asked to be creative in 250 words or less
by using the photo you see below. This is my story.

NB. My story is another perspective prompted by C.E. Ayr’s intriguing response to this week’s Unicorn Challenge. Please check out C.E.’s story here and/or here. I hope you enjoy my version and his.

Contrary to popular opinion, sometimes these things really do just happen – at least that’s how it was for me.

My husband was out for the day … the monthly visit with his son from his first marriage. I never fault him this time alone; it’s good for him and it gives me the chance to spend a day in my favorite book store.

One day while on my way home, I paused to watch the swans; from the bridge I saw a man emerge from his boat. As if drawn by my presence, he glanced up at me and waved. I waved back. Then the most unexpected thing happened: he beckoned me. I went down to greet him and that was the beginning of our affair.

Now I live for my husband’s monthly visits with his son.

This month my husband’s son is backpacking with friends and there is no visit. He busies himself with tennis and darts at the pub. Desperate to meet my lover, I bailed on our tennis game, pretending to be sick, and my husband went off alone to find a partner.

The afternoon with my lover was heavenly; half-way home I turned around and returned to the boat.

How could I know my husband had paused on the bridge to watch the swans and saw me leave the boat?

How could my husband know that while he was plotting his jealous revenge, I had returned to the boat and was inside when he torched it?

NAR©2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-03/05/24

This is “Diary Of Hate” by Michael Nyman

Short Story

Lower Forty Soliloquy

April 27, 2024April 26, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are asked to be creative
in 250 words or less, using this image as inspiration. This is my story

“Where you been, girl? You got anythin’ goin’ on in that head of yours besides them nonsense rhymes? Your Ma’s been cookin’ all day and she sure coulda used your help with them black-eyed peas but you was nowhere to be found. You best not-a been hangin’ ‘round that good-for-nuthin’ boy again, girl. If I told you once, I told you a thousand times … keep away from him! There’s somethin’ not right with that boy! He’ll bring nuthin’ but misery. You start messin’ around with him and you’re gonna live to regret it. Then try and find yourself a decent husband! No man I know wants used goods!
Now stop makin’ excuses, girl! I’m your Pa and I know when you’re lyin’ … just like you was lyin’ about not bein’ out by the river. You know how I know that? ‘Cause somebody done seen ya. I see by the look in your eyes that it’s true. Yeah, you was seen by that new preacher man. And that ain’t all, girl. He said you was with that troublemaker and you had your heads together like you was plottin’ somethin’ real private-like.
I swear, girl, you ain’t got a lick a sense between ya. Stop this dang foolishness ‘cause it’s gonna lead to no good! C’mon now, girl … dinner’s waitin‘.
Anna, your cookin’ is fit for a king!
What you goin’ on about, woman? Jesus! I seen that boy just yesterday. Now, why’d he go do a fool thing like that!”

NAR©2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-26/04/24

This is “Ode To Billie Joe” by Bobbie Gentry

NB: Bobbie Gentry remarked that the message in Ode To Billie Joe revolved around the “nonchalant way” the family discussed Billie Joe’s suicide. She also said she included the verse about something being thrown off the bridge because it established a relationship between Billie Joe and the daughter, providing “a possible motivation for his suicide after meeting with her“. Gentry told The New York Times in 1969: “I had my own idea what was thrown off the bridge while I was writing it, but it’s not that important. Actually it was something symbolic. But I’ve never told anyone what it was.” The last time Bobbie Gentry appeared in public was at the Academy of Country Music Awards on April 30, 1982, almost 42 years ago to the day. Since that time, she has not recorded, performed or been interviewed. A 2016 news report stated that Gentry lives a secluded lifestyle in Los Angeles; she has refused to speak to reporters about Ode To Billie Joe or to give interviews.

Short Story

It’s All Going To Be OK

April 24, 2024April 24, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Six Sentence Story ~ “tonic” and
Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Confessionals ~ “sweet”

It doesn’t happen very often but last Sunday was a rare babysitting day for us; our usual days to watch our 4-year-old granddaughter Colette are Tuesday and Thursday but both our son and daughter-in-law (Colette’s mom & dad) had to work over the weekend. That was a rarity for them as well, but one is a librarian and the other a doctor and with both the library and the hospital open every day of the week, they sometimes pull a weekend shift but seldom do their rotations coincide as they did last Sunday.

My husband Bill has been having good and bad days this month, thinking about and missing his twin brother who died suddenly on April 2, so our son has been extra considerate, asking if watching Colette at this time is too much of an imposition; we answer without hesitation “Not at all …. in fact, just the opposite!”

Colette is always fun to be with but recently she has been a true blessing and a much-needed distraction …. a tonic, a balm for our sad and broken hearts, a healing magical concoction of love, joy, sunshine and humor blended with a combination of innocent wisdom and an intuitive nature that defies her tender age.

We were looking through some old photo albums with Colette …. snapshots of Bill and his brother as babies, as kids growing up on City Island, our wedding photos …. and even though Colette knew Bill’s brother and saw them together many times, seeing those photos left an impression on her, especially the ones of Bill and Jim when they were babies; it’s true, you know, that when our kids and grandkids are little and they look at us, they only see us as we are and have no idea we were ever any younger than we are right now.

One particularly sweet photo of Bill and Jim brought tears to my husband’s eyes and though he tried to hide his tears, they spilled through his fingers causing Colette to ask why he was so sad and we explained that Uncle Jim was gone, that he had left us to be with God in heaven; she thought for a second, put her little hand on Bill’s and said “Well, that’s ok, Grampy; don’t worry because God will take good care of him and it’s all going to be ok.”

Sunday Confessionals : Sweet

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

This is Stevie Wonder with “You Are The Sunshine Of My Life”

Bill and Jim, suntanned towheads in Montauk, 1950

Short Story

On The Rocks – Part 2: After The Fall

April 23, 2024June 13, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

The story continues.
Here’s Part 1.

The waiter silently glided up to my table carrying a silver tray with an empty glass, a decanter of ice cubes and a bottle of chilled limoncello. I watched as he expertly filled my glass halfway with ice, then with ease poured the moonglow yellow nectar over the cubes. I watched, mesmerized, as the oro liquido trickled down the inside of the glass and gently caressed the ice. A little twist of the wrist and he was done.

Not making eye contact, I thanked the waiter and told him to leave the bottle. He obliged.

I reached into my breast pocket and retrieved my silver cigarette case. Selecting a Muratti, I tapped it three times on the case and placed it between my lips. There was an ashtray and a book of matches on the table, compliments of the hotel; I lit my cigarette and inhaled deeply. I always got a rush from the feel of the slow burn of that first drag. I exhaled slowly watching the smoke rings break away and drift off.

Raising the glass of limoncello, I took a healthy sip and swirled it around in my mouth, savoring the refreshing lemony sweetness as I swallowed. I immediately began to feel a calm wash over me and I took another generous pull; it was unexpectedly heady. Placing the glass on the table, my hand remained suspended in midair as I spied the cursive inscription on my cigarette case:

To Nigel
From Camilla
Christmas, 2010

Plain, boring and emotionless …. exactly like Camilla was to me …. and I to her, no doubt. I quickly realized I hadn’t thought about her since that afternoon, since the accident. Even if there was anything left, which was doubtful considering the height of the cliffs and the number of times her frail body hit the rocks before disappearing into the choppy Mediterranean, there was no reason to assume it was anything but an accident. And that’s exactly what it was …. difficult to prove, though, if certain facts came to light

I put the cigarette case back into my pocket and thought about my next move. I refilled my glass, lit another Muratti and stared at the lights from the ships on the water. The longer I sat the more comfortable I became with my plan of action. It was imperative that nothing be rushed, not even a whiff of anything unusual lingering in the air.

Tomorrow I will leave Agrigento as planned. After lunch I’ll check out of the hotel; if anyone asks about Camilla, she had personal business to attend to. The concierge will arrange for my rental to be out front. Camilla preferred to travel light; it will be easy to add her bag to mine.

The waiter floated to my table, filled my glass with the last bit of limoncello, nodded politely and left, taking the empty bottle with him. I felt all traces of tension leave my body.

Tonight I will sleep peacefully.

To be continued….

This is Umberto Tabbi with “Ciao Siciliano”

Short Story

The Ambush

April 22, 2024April 22, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Otis sensed it before Sam even heard it – tires crunching through the snow slowly approaching the diner’s driveway. The black lab growled, knowing instinctively it wasn’t Deb and the kids; it was much too early. They weren’t due back until around 10:00. Besides, Otis would have recognized the sound of Deb’s Jeep.

But there was one definitive reason why Otis knew it wasn’t Deb and the kids returning from their ski trip; Deb never drove in the dark with her lights off.

The instant Sam heard the vehicle, a knot started forming in his gut. “It’s ok, boy” he whispered soothingly to Otis while reaching for the service revolver he kept hidden in the cupboard and slipped it into the pocket of his Washington Wizards sweatshirt. Sam squinted in the darkness at the LED clock on the diner’s microwave – 5:10AM – too early, even for diehard customers. Tapping at his other pocket, Sam was reassured knowing his cell phone was there.

Careful not to knock over anything that would make noise, Sam quickly strode to the window and with one finger eased back the curtain ever so slightly. In the bleak pre-dawn hours he could barely make out the shape of a hulking SUV parked outside the diner. This was not just a business to Sam and Deb; the spacious second floor was home to them and their kids. If anyone tried to break in or cause harm, Sam took it very personally.

Otis growled again; Sam hushed the skittish dog and together they crept back to the counter and slid behind it. Sam fingered the gun in his pocket; he was ready if it came to that.

Footsteps on the front stairs were followed by a quick rap on the window. Otis was more nervous than ever and Sam spoke softly to him while slipping him a treat to keep him quiet. One more rap on the window, then the front door handle jiggled. Then jiggled again, this time with attitude. Sam decided he needed to go on the offensive.

“We’re closed” he called out. “If you need help, the police station’s just down the road. I can call them.”

“No need for that, champ” came a voice from the other side of the door. “I just ended my shift there. Saw a car leaving your parking lot and wanted to make sure everything was ok.”

“Thanks, we’re fine.” Sam replied through the door. Something about the way this guy said “champ” made the hair on his arms stand up.

“Hey, it’s my job. I’d feel better if you let me take a look around” declared the guy outside.

“And I’d feel better if you showed me some I.D. Just slip it under the door.”

“No problem, champ.” A shiny laminated wallet-size rectangle slid across the floor.

Glancing to make sure the deadbolt on the front door was secure, Sam quickly retrieved the card and checked it out in the glow of his cell. The I.D. confirmed the guy was a trooper and the photo staring back proved what Sam feared – this guy was no stranger.

“Son of a bitch! Dan McGinty!”

The same Dan McGinty from New York. Sam could never forget his brother officer from their days in the NYPD. A dirty cop, that piece of scum almost got Sam and his partner Frank killed in an ambush. Their testimony at Dan’s trial helped get a conviction but Frank would never walk again. What was McGinty doing out of jail and out here in the boonies? How the hell did he ever land a job as a state trooper? Sam had a really bad feeling about this.

Otis sprang to his feet, jolting Sam out of his momentary reverie. The black lab stared in the direction of the kitchen and growled loudly. And Sam knew. In the stillness of the early morning he heard that familiar voice behind him.

“Hey, champ. Been a real long time.”

It was the last thing Sam heard before the room went black.

This is “The Messiah Will Come Again” by Roy Buchanan

Short Story

Angel Eyes

April 20, 2024April 20, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for The Unicorn Challenge
where we are asked to be creative in 250 words or less,
using this photo as our inspiration. Here is my story.

It was Friday night and my paycheck was burning a hole in my pocket. As it turns out, my on again/off again boyfriend, Jagger, was off again so I was free as the proverbial bird. Just as well; I was getting tired of the slouch anyway. But it was New Year’s Eve 1946 and I didn’t want to be alone.

Anxious to hit the tables and ring in the new year, I got myself all dolled up in an outfit that was quite possibly illegal in 33 states – a lowcut slinky little black number with a high side slit, silk stockings with lacy garters and red satin stilettos. Maybe I’d run into a high roller ready, willing and monetarily able to treat me to a bourbon, a thick juicy steak and a slice of pie a la mode.

I grabbed a taxi to the casino, the driver giving me the once-over in the rearview. I wasn’t interested in any two-bit palooka so I played it cool. Averting my eyes, I glanced out the window, snuggled deeper into my fur coat and lit a Chesterfield. The smoke encircled my head and my bright red lipstick left a perfect kiss around the filter.

When we arrived, I tossed a fiver at the cabbie and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The staccato of my heels alerted the man in black .… Special Agent Sam Bishop.

“Evening, Candace. You’re looking angelic, if you don’t mind my saying. I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Jagger.”

NAR©2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-19/04/24

This is Kenny Burrell with “Angel Eyes”

Short Story

The Floor Lamp

April 17, 2024April 16, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Six Sentence Story
where the prompt word is “present”

When little Summer was just a few days old, her mother Laura started the tradition of sitting with her in the nursery to read stories before bed; in the corner of the nursery was an old floor lamp that used to belong to Laura’s grandparents, Momma and Poppy, and it filled the nursery with a soft, soothing glow.

As a little girl, Laura spent a lot of time with Momma and Poppy and the three of them developed a deep and loving bond so when Momma and Poppy passed away, the one thing Laura asked for was the floor lamp which was in the bedroom of their house where little Laura napped; now, each night Laura would tell baby Summer all about her beloved Momma and Poppy.

This one particular night as Laura and Summer were sitting in the nursery, the glow from the floor lamp caught the baby’s attention and she was captivated by it, something Laura thought was a sweet connection, especially since the lamp originally belonged to Momma and Poppy, Summer’s great-grandparents, but then Laura noticed a pattern developing, a pattern that would repeat two or three times most nights at Summer’s bedtime where the baby would gaze calmly and quietly at the lamp, then slowly begin to coo, gurgle and giggle for a few minutes before becoming animated – smiling, eyes glowing, arms waving, laughing and babbling loudly – then back again to quietness but still very much attracted to and aware of the lamp …. even when the floor lamp was off, Summer was attracted to it.

One afternoon when Summer was around 3 years old, Laura heard her talking and laughing, just like she did when playing with her stuffed animals, and when Laura peeked into Summer’s room expecting to find her little girl on the bed, she was surprised to see her in the big over-stuffed chair where Laura read bedtime stories; the floor lamp was lit and Summer appeared to be having a happy and lively conversation – not with her stuffed animals but with the lamp.

When Laura asked Summer who she was so happily talking to, the little girl was quick to reply “Momma and Poppy, of course; can’t you see them, Mommy?”

Laura caught her breath for a moment but she was not completely shocked for she knew Momma and Poppy’s lamp was special – the very reason Laura wanted it in her own home, but she didn’t realize how special it was; Laura never tried to stop Summer from talking to the lamp for she truly believed the spirits of Momma and Poppy were present and Summer’s conversations with them were real …. and who are we to say they weren’t. 🪽

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

This is “Guardian Angels” performed by John McLaughlin, Larry Coryell and Paco De Lucia

Short Story

The Cruelest Joke

April 13, 2024April 12, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for The Unicorn Challenge, where we are asked
to write something creative in 250 words or less
by using the photo below for inspiration.
This is my story.

The moment we stepped out of our car, the temperature felt like it dropped twenty degrees and a cold wind whipped my black-stockinged legs. We cringed at the frigid slap in the face and huddled deeper into our jackets as we climbed the steps to the church.

We found the seats reserved for us …. second pew directly off the center aisle. I clutched my husband’s hand and felt his body quiver as he raggedly exhaled, desperately trying not to cry. The tears would come, but on his terms.

The pews on both sides of the church were filled with people celebrating a life and mourning a loss. Everything leading to this moment had been a maelstrom of emotions; there are very few things that shake us to our core like a sudden death.

A man appeared at our pew; I recognized him as the manager of the funeral home. He spoke softly to my husband and together they started to walk to the back of the church. I looked up at my husband’s face and he gave me a sad smile.

There was a heavy silence in the church, mourners sitting side-by-side lost in a fog of grief. Had someone played us the cruelest joke?

As one, the pallbearers heaved the casket onto their shoulders and the organ began to play. That’s when I saw my husband walking behind his brother’s coffin, our widowed sister-in-law on his arm, and there were tears.

Now we will try to move forward.

NAR©2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-12/04/24

This is Al Green with “How Can You Mend A Broken Heart”

Short Story

Tools Of The Trade

April 10, 2024April 11, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Six Sentence Story #309; the required word is “core”

John Black always keeps his tools in the finest condition, each one hanging on the rack with incredible precision like soldiers standing at attention, lined up by size depending on his needs, clean, sharp and at the ready at all times.

There are saws that could cut down the largest tree and mallets strong enough to pound huge spikes into boulders, screwdrivers and files of every shape and size, pliers to yank out the longest of nails and wrenches to loosen joints rusted together, planes that could shave off the thinnest slice of wood and blades that could cut through the toughest leather.

John Black scrubs his tools clean after each use so they are gleaming, polished and waiting for his next job, whenever that might be .… every day and into the night …. and he is ready, a busy man who never waits to be called, a man who easily finds his own clientele.

John Black is not a carpenter or a plumber, not a roofer or a mason, not a mechanic or a custodian – no, his job is of a different nature, his instruments weapons meant to inflict the most pain a human could endure – for you see, John Black is a psychopath, a stalker of the innocent, a torturer, a murderer; oh, yes, his tools serve him well, sate his sadistic needs and, being an unassuming man, his victims are so very easy to find.

John Black lives nowhere yet everywhere, next to your sister or your daughter or your mother or you, so keep your doors locked and never go out alone, even to check your mailbox or collect your newspaper or to bring in the cat, for he is ever vigilant, constantly at the ready, waiting patiently to show you in the minutest of detail what every last one of his tools can do in the hands of a master.

Come now, don’t look at me like that …. I’m just the storyteller telling the story of John Black who’s a bad seed, the devil’s spawn, a blot on the escutcheon, a moldering apple, rotten to the core.

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

This is AC/DC with “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap”

Short Story

Dinner Out

March 30, 2024March 29, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

This is The Unicorn Challenge
where we are asked to be creative
in 250 words or less, with this photo
as our inspiration. Here is my story.

The smell of old cooking oil reheated too many times stuck in his throat and clung to every inch of the Chinese food takeout joint. He hated being here, his uncomfortable demeanor only making him feel ridiculously out of place. And why were there only two tables in the whole shop when there was clearly room for more. He felt naked, center stage, all eyes on him yet no one paid him any attention.

How the hell did he let himself get roped into this? His granddaughter, a 15 year old package of rebellion and maladjustment, talked him into a dinner out. He didn’t like eating anywhere but at home but he realized in the fourteen years since she was in his care, he’d never taken his granddaughter out to eat, not even for an ice cream.

He wondered if he resented her. In truth it was his daughter, the girl’s mother, he resented for running off like she did and leaving her year old tot with him. What kind of mother does that? One just a kid herself, stuck with an unwanted baby and a desperate need to be a teenager. Well, she took off one night and never came back.

Now, here he sat, waiting for this willful girl who was too much like her mother for her own good to return from the toilet. She’d been in there far too long and he sat staring at his past knowing she’d run off, leaving him alone again.

NAR
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-29/03/24

This is Del Shannon with “Runaway”

Short Story

Matinee Idol

March 30, 2024May 12, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

This is The Unicorn Challenge
where we are asked to be creative
in 250 words or less using this photo
as inspiration. Here is my story.

There was never a time when my father didn’t sport a mustache. A thin, elegant line when he was a young man, a bit more pronounced as he grew older but always neat, always refined.

Dressed in his army uniform, he was every bit the matinee idol and it was obvious why Mom fell for him.

When we visited him in Albany Medical Center the morning of his surgery for multiple aneurisms – both abdominal and aortic – his grey hair was neatly combed, mustache trimmed. He was 82 years old and the doctors gave him a bleak 6% chance of surviving the operation. Yet, survive he did.

My sister’s daughter – my father’s eldest grandchild – gave serious thought to postponing her wedding until my father was stronger. He insisted she “do nothing of the kind”. He told us all, in no uncertain terms, that he would never miss his first grandchild’s wedding …. and he didn’t. Dressed to the nines in his tux and bow tie, perfectly groomed silver mustache, we all held our breath as they walked hand in hand onto the dance floor for what would be their last spin together.

When my dad died, we provided the undertaker with a photo for reference. The inexperienced mortician did a lovely job tending Dad but, looking back and forth from the photo to my father at peace his coffin, the undertaker knew something was amiss.

It was the first time any of us had ever seen Dad without his dashing mustache.

NAR©2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-29/03/24

This is “Celluloid Heroes” by the Kinks

Short Story

The Playground

March 26, 2024March 27, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Six Sentence Story, incorporating the word “slide”,
Fandango’s Story Starter #141 and four additional word prompts

Allison arrived home to discover, propped up against her front door, a mysterious package addressed to her but with no return address; in these dangerous times, opening a strange package with no identification is a reckless thing to do and Allison isn’t the type to take chances, no matter how curious she was about this unexpected delivery.

Unlocking the front door, Allison gave the package one last glance and went inside but she couldn’t think of anything other than the box on her porch and eventually gave up, heading back out; the more she looked at the box, the more one sticking point nagged at her: the print on the hand-written shipping label looked extremely familiar.

Suddenly, like a bolt out of the blue, Allison realized the handwriting was her father’s; a thousand thoughts flew through her mind as she tried to figure out what he could have sent her, finally coming to the conclusion that her dad must have packed away a few items for her which belonged to her late mother .… items of sentimental value …. before he sold the old family house and settled into a senior living facility.

No longer wary, Allison excitedly picked up the package and brought it into the kitchen where she placed it on the counter and with a knife carefully followed the taped-up folds until she was able to open the box; resting atop the packing material was a small envelope with her name on it written in the same handwriting as the shipping label and inside the envelope was a note which read, “Dear Ali, I remember how much you loved these and I wanted you to have them, maybe one day for your own little girl” ~ Love, Dad.

Puzzlement creased Allison’s forehead as she gently pushed away the bubble wrap to discover one of her favorite toys – a miniature playground set complete with working swings, a seesaw, monkey bars, a slide and sandbox; there was even the little family with their pet dog which she had named Tess.

Now all smiles, Allison carried the pieces into the sunroom and placed them on the side table next to her chair near the window; they looked so happy and gay with the sun shining on them and Allison sighed, not at all surprised to feel a tear running down her cheek.

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

Fandango’s Story Starter #141

FOWC with Fandango — Stick

Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – Miniature

FOWC with Fandango — Print

Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – Smiles

This is “Lazy Day” by Spanky and Our Gang

Short Story

The Continuing Adventures of George and Martha, Vol. 2

March 25, 2024December 27, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Photo Challenge, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie #507

Continue reading →

Short Story

Fiasco In Florence

March 25, 2024March 24, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

When my sister Rosemarie had her 16^th birthday, our parents decided it was the perfect time for our first family vacation in Italy. Plans were made for the summer …. three weeks traveling around Italy and another three weeks visiting family in Sicily.

One of our stops was Florence where we stayed in a breathtaking guesthouse called Pensione Mona Lisa. Our accommodations were similar to an apartment but without a kitchen; all meals were served in the communal dining room. Our parents took the master bedroom on the first floor while Rosemarie and I shared a loft bedroom which also had its own bathroom.

All the rooms were exquisitely decorated with beautiful furnishings and expensive rugs. In our bathroom there was a claw-foot tub, separate shower, a pedestal sink and an enclosed area with the toilet. Next to the toilet was an odd-looking fixture neither of us had ever seen before. It was the same size as the toilet but with extra faucets and handles and a strange sprinkler contraption in the center of the bowl. When we turned the faucets on, water shot out straight from the sprinkler; we immediately turned off the water, then sat there trying to figure out just what the hell the damn thing was.

After considerable thought, we came to the conclusion it was for foot-washing. Happily kicking off our sandals, we turned on the water and bathed our hot, tired feet. We dried off with the small paper guest towels in the bathroom and tossed them into the bowl, then pulled one of the levers expecting the towels to flush away. Well, they didn’t. In fact the ‘footwasher’ very quickly filled with water and overflowed as Rosemarie and I tried desperately to stop it.

Before we knew it, the bathroom floor was covered with water which leaked out into the bedroom, soaking the rug. We watched helplessly as the water trickled down the stairs into the main living section, drenching the gorgeous rugs. Our mother saw what was happening and rang the front desk for help but it was pretty much a lost cause.

The pensione staff arrived and started yelling and screaming at us in Italian as other guests hurried over to see what all the commotion was about. The rugs were ruined and we were responsible for the damages. The rooms became uninhabitable and when we inquired about other lodgings, the pensione manager told us they were all booked and we had to find another place to say for the remainder of our time in Florence. After paying off the front desk clerk, he begrudgingly made a few calls for us; we were told there was a small hotel in Pisa that could accommodate us.

Despite all the angry hotel personnel, the name-calling, the expense for damages, the inconvenience of relocating and our parents general frustration, nothing could have prepared them for the embarrassment and mortification they felt explaining to their sixteen year old daughter and her tween sister the purpose of a bidet.

This is “Only Sixteen” by Sam Cooke

Short Story

Tall Ships

March 23, 2024March 22, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

This is The Unicorn Challenge.
Our objective: to be creative in
250 words or less, prompted by
the photo below. This is my story.

Battery Park. The glittering lights of tall ships parading up the Hudson River. New York at its brightest. The Big Apple – excitement and energy down to its core.

So how the hell did I end up in Pennsylvania Dutch Country, hopelessly in love with my Amish husband Abel, married for four years with three kids and twins on the way?

Good old revenge. I wouldn’t play ball with my boss so instead of being assigned to photograph the tall ships in New York Harbor, I was banished for a month to cover the “Plain People’s” Summer County Fair.

What I thought was going to be a nightmare was a delicious surprise. When the handsome, lusty Abel Jansen and I locked eyes, it was “Goed gevoel” – a “good feeling” from head to toe and all parts in between.

Being accepted into the Amish community, let alone marrying, is difficult but we had a few things going for us. I was a city girl, not afraid of getting my hands dirty. We were mature. Most Amish were married before age 20; Abel and I were both 26.

But the clincher was the serendipity attached to my name …. Menno Jakob.

The most revered men among the Amish were Menno Simons and Jakob Ammann. The elders were convinced I was descended from them when I was actually an Italian Jew from Canarsie! Who was I to argue?

Abel was my tall ship and I was his splash of Manhattan sparkle. Nothing else mattered.

NAR©2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-22/03/24

This is “Sailing” by Christopher Cross

Short Story

Transgression

March 20, 2024March 19, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Sadje’s “What Do You See” #230 – March 18, 2024

The young man, rail thin and incredibly tall, ran through the courtyard like a gangling, indelicate giraffe. One hand planted firmly on his head kept his cap from flying off …. a common occurrence .… while the other hand jutting out to his side performed the function of a human rudder keeping him on course. An over-large cowl flapped disobediently from one shoulder to the other. On his feet he wore simple sandals and his spindly legs took giant strides in an exaggerated attempt to keep them on his feet.

From a distance he could have easily been mistaken for an apoplectic ostrich.

A quick glance at the sun and the shadows cast by the stone columns confirmed what the young man already knew – he was late. Again. He quickened his pace, awkwardly darting between the pillars, and spied the grated entrance to his right. He flew toward it, nearly falling flat on his face onto the cobblestones beneath his feet.

The young man flung open the gate and quickly entered, hunching over to prevent his head from hitting the doorframe. He stood for a few seconds in the shadows to collect himself, then quietly opened the chapel door and slipped into the one empty space at the end of the stone bench.

None of his brothers dared acknowledge his late arrival but he knew he would be called to task for this transgression.

NB: When I saw Sadje’s photo prompt, I was immediately reminded of The Cloisters in the Bronx, NY, an extension of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It’s a fascinating place which I have visited many times. To take a look inside The Met Cloisters, click here.

#WDYS

What do you see # 230- March 18, 2024

This is Gregorian Chant Music – “Monks of the Monastery”

Short Story

Nowhere Man

March 20, 2024March 19, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Six Sentence Story
incorporating the prompt word “bank”.

Ruth looked up from her book and stared at her husband Fred as he fiddled with his iPod; at one time, he knew every little detail about that thing but now the device totally confused him and in frustration Fred cursed as he threw the iPod across the room yelling “Damn thing’s busted!”

Ruth sighed and retrieved the iPod, placing it on the table between their recliners and glanced sadly at Fred who sat in his chair looking straight ahead; Ruth asked herself “Where is my husband of 55 years?” because for her it was like he was gone, replaced by this ‘nowhere man’.

In an attempt to help Fred settle down, Ruth calmly suggested they look at the iPod together after dinner to figure out what was wrong but that only seemed to anger Fred even more and he shouted back at Ruth that he was not a child and she shouldn’t patronize him; when Ruth apologized and told Fred she was going into the kitchen to make dinner, he snapped at her saying it didn’t matter because he wasn’t hungry anyway.

In the kitchen Ruth wept silently; it was like this ever since Fred’s diagnosis of early onset dementia and now they squabbled over everything, especially things he used to do without so much as a second thought, like paying the bills, but these days he got lost walking to the bank on the corner.

Fred used to be very handy but now he couldn’t even set his alarm clock and when Ruth offered to sort out his meds for him, he lashed out saying he could do it himself but he mixed up the dosage and had a terrible reaction leaving him feeling hopeless and helpless.

Fred came into the kitchen and, without being told, went straight to the spot where Ruth stored her cutting boards and knives and started helping her prepare the salad, perfectly chopping vegetables and chatting amiably about a movie his friend Jack thought they might enjoy; the old Fred was back .… at least for the moment.

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

This is the Beatles with “Nowhere Man”

Short Story

Muffins And Croissants

March 16, 2024March 16, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Our gracious host Jenne at The Unicorn Challenge
has offered up this photo prompt hoping to inspire us
to creatively write something in 250 words or less.
This is my 250-word response to the photo prompt.

The year was 1987. Bill and I were celebrating our 15^th wedding anniversary by going on a cruise to the Bahamas with our sons, aged 10 and 8.

On the third day we made plans to disembark at our next port of call …. St. Thomas …. and asked one of the stewards to recommend a nice beach. He gave us a name, saying it was not a touristy place and if we were lucky, we’d see some iguanas. Having had a pet iguana before, the boys were excited.

We ate breakfast in an outdoor cafe with thatched umbrellas before heading to the beach, bringing with us some leftover croissants and muffins too delicious to leave behind. The steward was right; the beach was deserted. It was pristine with the clearest, bluest water we’d ever seen. After a couple of hours, there was still no sign of iguanas anywhere and our boys were sorely disappointed. We searched a large rock outcropping, knowing the little lizards like hiding in crevices, but none were there.

Rounding the rocks to check out what was on the other side, we stopped dead in our tracks. It was like a land before time with iguanas the size of small dinosaurs sunning themselves on the beach. They were magnificent and, aside from their enormous whip-like tails, appeared harmless.

Cautious yet unafraid, we slowly approached as the herbivores watched from heavy-lidded eyes. To our sons’ utter delight and amazement, iguanas enjoy being fed leftover muffins and croissants!

The Unicorn Challenge-15/03/24

This is “Island Boy” by Kenny Chesney

Short Story

The Panic Button

March 14, 2024March 14, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Yesterday, as I was driving up into the gated parking lot of a medical facility, I was faced with a dilemma: from my position in the driver’s seat, I was unable to reach the OPEN BUTTON. I stretched as far as I could, with no luck. Finally, I opened my door just a bit, reached out and successfully pushed the button. I closed my door, drove through the now open gate and went in search of a parking spot.

I found a spot quickly and, since we were early, my husband and I stayed in the car for a few minutes chatting. When I reached for my purse, my heart sank and I felt sick to my stomach. My purse wasn’t where I always keep it …. tucked into the space between my seat and the driver’s door. I’m sure you see where this is going. Yes, when I opened my car door to push the button which opens the security gate, I didn’t realize my purse had fallen out of the car!

Thank goodness I immediately figured out what happened and Bill took the short walk to the parking lot entrance to make sure my purse was still there. It was gone and when he returned empty handed, I almost pushed the panic button. Just like most women, my life is in my purse. It’s not big but inside was my cell phone, my wallet with my ID, driver’s license, insurance cards, credit cards and cash. My car key, a pen, lip gloss and Advil are also inside the purse. Not a lot of things but very important things. In fact, some are vital.

I tried to stay calm as Bill went into the lobby of the building to check with the security guard at the front desk. Against all odds, he had my purse in a box beneath his desk; nothing was missing. Bill had to sign for it and when he brought my purse back to me in the parking lot, I thought I would cry with relief.

All this transpired in the course of 10 minutes. Incredible good fortune which could have gone south just as easily and I was reminded of the classic line by Blanche DuBois from “Streetcar Named Desire” about the kindness of strangers. Whoever the person was who found my purse and turned it in to the front desk, I thank them with my whole being. They saved my life today and if that sounds like a ridiculous exaggeration, just think about what it would be like piecing everything together and then try not to push the panic button.

This is the Kinks with “Strangers”

Short Story

Just An Average Junkie

March 13, 2024March 13, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Alright, alright, alright!
It’s time once again for a Six Sentence Story,
this time incorporating the word ‘remote’.
Here’s mine, with a few other prompts just for fun.

The reflection of my timeworn face in the bathroom mirror is harrowing, one I still can’t accept is me .… someone who was always strikingly attractive, impeccably dressed with my designer labels neatly tucked away and out of sight; these days I see only one person on a regular basis and he doesn’t give a shit what I look like as long as I have the money to pay him.

There’s that old twitch in my left eye, an unwelcome reminder that a killer headache and nausea are about to overtake me if I don’t eat some Skittles, a much more socially acceptable term than that hushed-up, dirty little name that makes all the so-called ‘well-adjusted’ people cringe as though in the presence of a leper; fucking hypocrites who gleefully suck up their gummies and hemp oil and legalized medical marijuana while sipping on their “superb organic Pouilly-Fiussé”.

My hands are shaking in equal amounts of excitement and desperation as I check out what my guy has delivered today – reds, blues and yellows – a difficult choice, to be sure, but the numerous voices in my head have made a unanimous decision: mellow yellow to match my jaundiced skintone and disposition; yes, I’ve read the headlines and the fine print warnings – I’m not an idiot, you know, and that makes me laugh out loud!

Let’s see what’s in the magician’s box to fix this sallow complexion …. spackle-like primer to fill in the yawning crevices around my mouth, foundation with a bit of a dewy finish (or so the advertisements promise), creamy rosy blush for my cheeks, glossy brush-on plumper for luscious lips, pencil to fill in my threadbare brows, glittery highlighter to lessen the deep-set appearance of my eyes and layer upon layer of mascara on my straggly lashes.

Looking at my reflection once again, I see that I’m now back .… returned from the dead, if you will …. and I look sensational, provocative and sensual with just the right touch of promiscuousness, yet there are two burned-out, remote eyes blankly staring back at me.

I slip into my work clothes, ready for another night hitting the pavement, when I feel that familiar sensation and I’m faced with the recurring stalemate – whether I should just take all the pretty candy, lie down and pray I never wake up or put myself back on the meat market to earn enough money for another bag of Skittles; “Fuck it, I’m already dressed” I think as I pop a red and slam the door behind me.

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

FOWC with Fandango — Superb

FOWC with Fandango — Attractive

Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – Timeworn

FOWC with Fandango — Headline

FOWC with Fandango — Unanimous

Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – Labels

FOWC with Fandango — Thread

FOWC with Fandango — Stalemate

FOWC with Fandango — Harrowing

This is “The Pusher” by Steppenwolf

Short Story

Ooh, Baby!

March 10, 2024March 10, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

In response to a prompt from Carrot Ranch,
write a 99 word story (no more, no less)
about an awkward situation.

When I was newly married, my husband and I lived in an apartment building. It was a nice place, quiet, and we only saw the people who lived on our floor.

I’d run into Meg by the elevator every so often; she was extremely pregnant.

This one particular day I saw Meg and realized it had been a while since our last elevator meeting. Noticing her protruding belly, I said “You must be getting close now, eh?”

She stared at me and bluntly responded “I had the baby three weeks ago.”

Eyes darting, mumbling “Congratulations”, I fled the scene!

https://carrotranch.com/2024/03/05/march-5-story-challenge-in-99-words/

This is Brenda Lee with “Baby Face”

Short Story

Champagne On Ice

March 9, 2024March 8, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Jenne, our delightful host at The Unicorn Challenge,
has once again asked us to write something creative
in no more than 250 words based on how
the photo below inspires us.
This is my response.

The pathway to my future seemed incredibly long and I could easily imagine myself escaping down a side aisle. What kind of thought was that for a bride on her wedding day?

“Well, we got lucky, sweetheart; the rain held off. Emme, are you ready? The musicians are waiting for my signal.”

I turned to face my father. “Daddy” was all I managed to eke out before the tears started. I hadn’t called my father Daddy in years.

Dad motioned for the music to keep playing and magically produced a handkerchief. “What’s going on, kiddo?”

“This doesn’t feel right, Dad. I’m about to marry Gregory because of a promise I made to Mom.”

“Emme, if you want to back out, I’ll stand by whatever decision you make. But it’s best for everyone if you do it now, not after you’re married.”

“But you spent so much money to make this day perfect.”

Dad put his hands on my shoulders. “Damn the money and damn the promises. All I want is for you to be happy. If you think this is a mistake, say the word. My car is parked right outside.”

“What about Gregory?” I asked biting my bottom lip.

“I’ll talk to him privately, Emme. Don’t worry about that.”

I looked at my father and quickly nodded. He reached into his pocket and handed me the keys to his car.

“Go on now. I have some explaining to do.” He kissed my cheek and took off down the path.

The Unicorn Challenge-08/03/24

This is “Hotel California” by the Eagles

Short Story

Spring Ahead

March 7, 2024March 6, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Are you ready to cast off the winter doldrums and rejoin the land of the living? I know I am! Although daylight has been lasting a bit longer each day, the change is imperceptible. However, on Sunday here in The States we will turn our clocks ahead one hour as Daylight Saving Time begins. Spring ahead, fall back. Losing that one precious hour of sleep will be worth it just to close the door on Old Man Winter.

It seems the older I get the less I like cold weather. I’ve never been a fan of winter, not even as a child. While all the other kids were sledding and skating, I’d be watching them from my window under a cozy blanket drinking hot cocoa. Not much has changed! I’m a “beach bum”, not a “snow bunny” and much prefer walking into the surf than trudging through the drifts.

Winter is when everything turns grey and fades away. The birds fly south and the trees go bare. The deserted playground swings get tossed about in the cold wind and wisps of smoke spiral out from chimney tops as families enjoy the warmth of their fireplaces.

It takes forever for people to get dressed to go outside – donning boots, parkas, scarves, hats and gloves – then they make a mad dash from the house to the car and another dash when they arrive at their destination, hoping they don’t suffer a “mad dash ass smash” in their icy haste. Believe me – the ‘slip-sliding away’ happens and it ain’t pretty! How about the hundreds of people waiting for public transportation? Fur-lined hoods pulled up over their heads, faces red and chafed, lips cracked and sore, noses dripping and eyes tearing from the wind. Talk about “your huddled masses yearning to breathe free”!

In less than two weeks spring will arrive. Boots will be replaced with sandals, snowsuits with bathing suits, winter skis with water skis, hot chocolate with lemonade, sleds with bicycles, snowballs with baseballs and winter mittens with gardening gloves.

March winds bring April showers and April showers bring May flowers. Is there anything lovelier than a sunny day in spring? The birds have returned and are chirping their little hearts out. The resilient crocuses and daffodils have popped up through the defrosting earth and tiny buds are forming on the trees. Now is the time for planting seeds and saplings that were started months ago inside warm houses. The sky is clear, the sun is shining and there’s just a hint of a breeze. Couples walk hand-in-hand through the park and the playgrounds have come back to life. Children pitch tents in their backyards and dads grill the first hot dogs of the season.

I’ve often said I don’t like February; it’s the shortest month but to me it feels like the longest and the loneliest. Now March is here and it came in more like a lamb than a lion with temps in the 40s and only a slight breeze.

You’ll get no complaining from me – not yet, anyway. But it’s still early; why, it’s not even April. Just wait for the blazing summer sun, the mad dashes to our cars to blast the AC, the scalding hot sand at the beach, the highways jammed with people escaping the city for a week at the shore, the lines at the ice cream stands, the agony of a blistering sunburn and the howling dog days of August.

When will autumn get here? There’s just no pleasing some people!

This is Nina Simone with “It Might As Well Be Spring”

Short Story

Sock It To Me

March 6, 2024March 6, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge is once again
challenging us to write a Six Sentence Story
using the word “ace”. This is my story.

The other night as I was getting undressed and ready for bed, I pulled off my sock and saw something on the sole that looked like a bit of fuzz or a piece of string but upon closer inspection I realized it was something imprinted on the bottom of the sock itself; since I can’t see a thing without my glasses, I thought it was the letter A for the company name which is Ace USA but I soon found out it was the letter L, obviously for LEFT.

“What are the odds!” I declared to myself, rather tickled by the fact that I put the LEFT sock on my left foot without even checking the bottom of the sock, but when I took off the other sock, fully expecting to see the letter R indicating the RIGHT sock, I was confounded when I saw another L!

“Just my luck” I again proclaimed to myself, somewhat annoyed that I would be the one to get a defective pair of socks, with two LEFT socks and no RIGHT sock!

I promised myself that in the morning I would call Ace USA and encourage them to correct their oversight by sending me two RIGHT socks, one as a mate for one of the LEFT socks and the other as a mate for the other LEFT sock, leaving me with two perfectly functioning pairs of socks.

The next morning I called Ace USA, explained my problem to Eleanor in customer services and requested two RIGHT socks to match my two LEFT socks; well, I’m sure you can imagine what a good laugh I had when Eleanor sweetly explained that the L on the bottom of my socks did not stand for LEFT but rather for LARGE.

Now I find myself rethinking that box in the front closet full of defective mittens.

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

This is Aretha Franklin with “Respect”

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