Written for MLMM Monday Wordle;
our prompt words are shown below.
Here’s where the prompts took me.
huge, proper, colleague, space, alone, try,
force, tremble, fear, laughter, serious, hard
π Nancy is a storyteller, music blogger, humorist, poet, curveballer, noir dreamer π
Written for MLMM Monday Wordle;
our prompt words are shown below.
Here’s where the prompts took me.
huge, proper, colleague, space, alone, try,
force, tremble, fear, laughter, serious, hard
Written for dVerse Poets Quadrille Monday –
βHunger Makes the Best of Poetryβ –
where our host, Lisa, is serving up
the word “hungerβ. Here is my quad.
Written for Sadjeβs βWhat Do You Seeβ #323.
Hereβs where the photo prompt took me.
Written for Melissaβs Fandango
Flash Fiction Challenge #350.
Hereβs where the prompt took me.
Written for Sadjeβs βWhat Do You Seeβ #317
Hereβs where the photo prompt took me.
Today at RDP, we are asked to share a
story, poem, photo, painting, essay, etc.,
focusing on the word βkindredβ. Hereβs my take.
Written for Shwetaβs Six Word Story Prompt #131.
Graphic by Kevin @ The Beginning At Last/No Theme
Thursday. The prompt word is βsolitudeβ. This is my story.
Written for Shwetaβs Saturday Six Word Challenge #126.
I have also used one of the great images by Kevin @
No Theme Thursday. This week’s prompt word is
βhopelessβ. Here is my 6 word very short story.
Shweta is our host for the Saturday Six Word Challenge – #118.
This weekβs prompt word is βbeginningsβ. Here is my 6 word story.
This week at Writing Prompts, Esther has teased us
with the word βgiftsβ. Meanwhile, Gerry and Sue
at Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge have
offered up the word βdecorationsβ. This is my story.
Written for dVerse Poets where we are encouraged to compose an
Etheree based on trees β¦. Christmas or fir-themed … consisting
of 10 lines. In an Etheree, the first line has one syllable;
the second line has two syllables, and so on, until there are
ten syllables in the tenth line. We are asked to create our Etheree
in the shape of a tree, with two extra lines of 2 syllables
each forming the trunk of our tree. This is my Etheree.
Written for Ovi Poetry Challenge #70
Our inspiration word is βemptyβ
and this is my ovi,
Written for Ovi Poetry Challenge #68
where our inspiration word is βdefeatβ.
Here is my ovi.

There are times in life
Days full of stress and strife
Not just full but rife
And you’re ready to give up
Canβt tell friend from foe
A world teeming with woe
With no safe place to go
Living day-to-day is scary
People sleeping in the street
Begging for a bite to eat
No shelter from the searing heat
And no one lends a hand
The haves and the have nots
Big shots and little snots
Canβt connect the daily dots
The struggle is very real
Defeat may whisper in your ear
βEnoughβs enough, come here my dearβ
Ignore the voice and donβt go near
Bend gently in the wind
Life can be a slippery slope
Donβt lose your faith or your hope
Hang on tight to that safety rope
You will rise above
NARΒ©2024

This is βDonβt Give Upβ by Peter Gabriel
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NARΒ©2017-present.
Written for Friday Fictioneers where our host Rochelle
has asked us to use the photo below as inspiration
to get creative in 100 words or less, making
every word count. Hereβs my flash.

Jenny looked around the no-frills room which was now her home. A shy girl, sheβd never spent a single night away from home; now she was half-way across the country at an unfamiliar university with thousands of nameless faces.
At first she didnβt want her parents’ help moving but at the last minute she relented. They were on their way home now and all Jenny wanted was to grab her phone and beg them to come back and take her home.
The sound of girl’s excited laughter echoed in the hall; Jenny peeked out and someone happily waved her over.
NARΒ©2024
100 Words
This is βWhat Is Lifeβ by George Harrison
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NARΒ©2017-present.
Written for Fandangoβs Story Starter #159
where the first sentence is the prompt and
for Weekly Prompts The One Day Prompt,
using the phrase βone dayβ. This is my story.

The sound of laughter drifted up from the street below, making Gregory feel very alone.
Itβs hard to imagine life without her. When the hell did everything start to unravel?
Now he sat alone in the shell of their apartment, baseball game on the tv playing for no one, nursing his second scotch. This place used to be alive with people enjoying one of their famous parties. When he closed his eyes he could hear their friendsβ lively discussions and the sound of her spirited laugh.
Everyone said they were the perfect couple. Theirs was a comfortable, easy marriage β dinner at Gallagherβs, cycling along Riverside Drive, steamy showers after Saturday morning sex. They were in sync in their choices of movies, paint colors and the biggest decision of all .β¦ neither one wanted kids.
He sat there, head in hands while a thousand thoughts went through his mind. When did he begin having second thoughts? Was it when her sister asked them to be godparents for her first baby? Was it watching the kids in the playground across the street? All he could remember was the night he whispered in her ear that he wanted to have a baby.
She was blindsided. What? No! He was just named partner at Central Casting. She was food editor for Country Living magazine. Life was perfect. They had an agreement, dammit!
Would she just consider thinking about it? No! How could he spring this on her now?
Days, weeks went by. She remained adamant, distant. Then one day he came home after work and she was gone.Β
Here he sat alone with his scotch, ballgame long over, thumb rubbing his wedding band while he stared at divorce papers.
It couldnβt have happened to a more perfect couple.
NARΒ©2024
This is βThe Danceβ by Garth Brooks
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NARΒ©2017-present.
Written for Friday Fictioneers where our gracious host, Rochelle,
encourages us to get creative in 100 words or less using this photo
as our inspiration. Here is my 100-word photo-inspired story.

Funny thing about dreams and memories; sometimes itβs difficult to tell them apart. Sometimes I just donβt want to.
That summer β¦. after the breakup β¦. I needed to be alone …. to think β¦. to put the hurt behind me. A few days at that motel on the beach seemed like a good idea at the time.
Everywhere I walked β¦. everything I saw β¦. reminded me of you. The scent of salt water. Scattered shells and seaweed. That song. Hot summer nights. Stars so close you could touch them.
Memories and dreams of you β¦. theyβre funny that way.
NARΒ©2024
100 Words
This is βIn Dreamsβ by Roy Orbison
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NARΒ©2017-present.
Written for dVerse Poets Quadrille #202
β Hello Darkness β
where we are asked to embrace the dark
in 44 poetic words.

Death creeps
in the night,
hiding in the
darkest of places
where junkies
shoot up
in the alleys
by dim light.
But no one
is around
to see
the relief
on their faces
when they fade
to black
and softly give up
the fight.
NARΒ©2024
44 Words
This is Metallica with βFade To Black”, live from Pinnacle Bank Arena, Lincoln, Nebraska
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NARΒ©2017-present.

One of the first things I noticed about the house across the street was the candle in an upstairs window.
It was December 1980 β two weeks before Christmas β and we had just moved into our new home. My mom quickly located the boxes marked βCHRISTMAS LIGHTSβ and put my dad to work decorating outside. When he was done every house on the street was aglow except for the one with the solitary candle. I was fascinated by that candle; it was lit twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
About a week later there was a knock on our front door. Mom answered and I scurried along behind her, anxious to see who was visiting us for the first time. Standing on the front porch was a chubby little old lady with silver hair, twinkling eyes and rosy cheeks and I couldnβt resist blurting out βAre you Mrs. Claus?β She chuckled a bit saying no, she was Mrs. Granger from across the street and had come to bring us an angel food cake as a welcoming gift. Mom introduced herself and invited Mrs. Granger inside but she declined saying βperhaps another timeβ. Before she left I told her my name was Eleanor and I had just turned ten on December 1. She smiled slightly at us but there was sadness in her eyes.
Mrs. Grangerβs angel food cake sat on one of her beautiful Spode Christmas plates. Mom said we should return the plate on Christmas Day brimming with sugar cookies, which is exactly what we did. We rang the bell and mom apologized for showing up unannounced, adding that she hoped we werenβt interrupting her Christmas festivities.
βNo, dear. Not at all. I was just preparing myself one of those frozen dinners β turkey, for a special treat.βΒ Mom made polite small talk while I glanced around the living room. There wasnβt a single Christmas decoration in sight, not even a card. A fading ember in the fireplace made me think that Mrs. Granger was probably very lonely.
I suddenly found myself asking the question: βMrs. Granger, why is there a candle in the window upstairs?β
Mom gave me a withering look as Mrs. Granger slowly walked to the sofa and slumped down. I felt awful when she started crying, dabbing her eyes with a lacy handkerchief. Mom sat next to her and held her hand, not speaking.
In hushed tones Mrs. Granger told us her story: she married late in life and was blessed with a son, Edward. Her husband died in an accident when Edward was three years old and she raised the boy by herself. When the U.S. entered the Vietnam War, Edward enlisted; he was declared MIA on December 1, 1970 and she hadnβt heard a word in the ten years since then. The candle in the window was her way of holding vigil for Edward, steadfastly waiting for any news. We sat together for a few minutes, then Mrs. Granger politely said she wanted to be alone. Silently we left. It was then that I understood why she looked so sad when I told her my birthday; β her son went missing the day I was born.
Two days later mom returned to Mrs. Grangerβs. She apologized for the intrusion on Christmas Day and said we hoped she would join us for New Yearβs Eve dinner. Mrs. Granger said gently βNo, dear. I havenβt celebrated a new year since Edward disappeared.β
I couldn’t stop thinking about Mrs. Granger. Our New Yearβs Eve table was set for three, sparkling with momβs best dishes, silverware and crystal glasses. I sat in the bay window watching the lightly falling snow; then I noticed the candle in the window of Mrs. Grangerβs house was not lit.
βMom!β I gasped. βThe candle is out.β
Mom, dad and I walked across the street on leaden feet. Mom rapped softly on the door; we could see a dim glow coming from the fireplace. One more knock and the door opened slightly; Mrs. Granger appeared, her face wet with tears.
βAre you alright, Mrs. Granger?β mom inquired with obvious concern in her voice.
βOh, my dear! My mind has been preoccupied all dayβ she replied, her voice trembling. βYou see, I received some news today.β
Mrs. Granger turned and walked back inside, leaving the door ajar; apprehensively we followed her. There by the fireplace stood a handsome, smiling soldier; her long-lost son Edward had finally returned home.
We were overjoyed for Mrs. Granger; finally some happiness in the dear old lady’s life. We said our goodbyes and headed for the door.
“Wait, my dears!” Mrs. Granger called out. “There’s something I’ve been waiting a long time to say. Happy New Year to us all!”
We smiled through our tears knowing Mrs. Granger’s deepest wish came true this New Year’s Eve. The candle in the window was out but a new flame burned brightly in her heart. She’d never be lonely again.
NAR Β© 2018
