Written for Sunday Whirl Wordle – #732. Our
host is Brenda Warren and these are our words:
greed, tragedy, despair, presence, walk, calm,
strings, earth, all, spirit, vibrating, and heart.
Here’s where the prompt words took me.
Tag: Anger
Rock Bottom
Written for AI Drabble, a new challenge from
Mike Jackson where there are two main rules:
1) all written work must be exactly 100 words;
2) all written work must be AI generated.
We are provided with a word prompt and an image.
All ideas/suggestions are mine as interpreted by Claude AI.
Pretty Painted Nails
Written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt
#432 where we’re asked to be creative in exactly
85 words using the word ‘eavesdrop’. Also for
Sue & Gerry’s Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge –
‘lilac’. Here’s where the prompts took me.
Suddenly
Written for Shweta’s Saturday Six Word
Story Prompt #146 – ‘serendipity’.
Here’s where the prompt took me.
Losing It
Our gracious host, Rochelle, at Friday Fictioneers
asks us to use the photo below as inspiration
to write creatively in 100 words or less while
making every word count. This is my flash.
When It Ends
Written for OLWG #411.
The prompts are shown below.
This is my take.
The Dreamers
Our gracious host, Rochelle, at Friday Fictioneers
asks us to use the photo below as inspiration
to write creatively in 100 words or less while
making every word count. This is my flash.
Want To Watch A Movie?
Bill and I watched this beautifully bittersweet movie last night. We knew nothing about this 2023 film except for the brief description below; we were sold after watching the trailer. Paul Giamatti is an excellent actor and his performance was impeccable. There were some award-winning insults and one-liners delivered with great aplomb. If you’re looking for a lighthearted romcom, this is not for you. We enjoyed this one a lot and highly recommend it.
The Holdovers follows a curmudgeonly instructor (Paul Giamatti) at a New England prep school who is forced to remain on campus during Christmas break to babysit the handful of students with nowhere to go. Eventually he forms an unlikely bond with one of them …. a damaged, brainy troublemaker (newcomer Dominic Sessa) …. and with the school’s head cook (Da’Vine Joy Randolph), who has just lost a son in Vietnam.
Let’s watch the trailer.
I’ll save you a seat. Enjoy the movie! 🎥 🍿 🥤
NAR©2024
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for Nancy ~ The Sicilian Storyteller, Nancy (The Sicilian Storyteller), The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk, and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
The Downstairs Maid
Written for OLWG #393 where our prompt words are
1) broken yellow teeth; 2) Austin Pendleton – as Fred; 3) prodigal.
This is my story.
Eunice Blackthorne
Written for Six Sentence Story where we are
challenged to incorporate the word “frequency”
into a story of exactly six sentences. Here’s my six.
Immediately upon arriving at their destination, Camilla bolted from the car, slammed the door and stormed off, leaving a bewildered Nigel alone to weigh his options: go after her, call her after she’s had a chance to cool down or declare this date a complete failure and forget about Camilla all together, something he was not keen on as he was not the quitting type …. plus, he couldn’t get Camilla’s amazing breasts out of his head; after some thought, Nigel decided to go after her but first he needed to find a parking spot and then purchase two cappuccinos, one for him and one for her, in lieu of an awkward verbal apology.
Camilla was at her desk, obviously engrossed in a conversation of great importance as she was speaking rapidly in an animated manner to a tall, thin woman with blonde hair when she noticed Nigel coming her way and quicky ushered the woman into a back room, closing the door behind them; however, Nigel was determined to wait it out when just then an unidentified man approached and informed him that “Ms. Saunders had left the building and gave no indication when or if she would be returning that day”; this new intel pissed Nigel off royally since he was not prepared to have Camilla pull a disappearing act on him .… a position he found alien, embarrassing and profoundly uncomfortable.
In a huff, Nigel stormed out of the library and quickly walked to his car, arriving just in time to see Camilla and the blonde woman sliding into a white convertible which, of course, he followed, managing to stay far enough away without losing sight of the car which travelled a route which was extremely familiar to Nigel; the more they drove the more convinced Nigel became that he knew were the white car was headed but when the convertible abruptly turned off the road into a parking garage, Nigel was none-the-less astounded when he realized that Camilla’s companion lived in the same apartment building as he did …. or perhaps it was Camilla who lived there …. and just as the convertible entered the garage, Camilla glanced over her shoulder and, spotting Nigel’s car, was filled with consternation.
Nigel kicked himself for not having learned more about Ms. Camilla Saunders while on their coffee dates for if he had he would have known this mystery woman was Camilla’s oldest and dearest friend from college, Eunice Blackthorne, who was also Camilla’s roommate right here in his apartment building; the agenda now was for Nigel to increase the frequency of his visits to his buddy, Vince, the doorman …. shoot the breeze …. buy him a coffee …. give him a few hot tips on the ponies and get him to spill the beans about Camilla, her blonde friend and which apartment was theirs.
Meanwhile, Camilla was pacing the floor of the apartment she shared with Eunice; men like Nigel enervated her, demoralized, frightened and reminded her entirely too much of her overbearing, demanding, unprincipled father, brothers, classmates, boyfriends, bosses …. in fact, every man she had ever known in her life …. and knowing Camilla had had it with men was exactly what Eunice wanted to hear.
Little did any of them know they were headed for rocky times.
NAR©2024
This is “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
The Suit
Written for Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge ~ Black
Bill stood at his open closet mumbling and cursing under his breath as he pulled out one pair of pants after the other. He was in a mood that has no definition or perhaps many definitions, none of them good. He was searching for something to wear for the funeral of his twin brother, Jim, who died suddenly on April 2. Had it been anyone else’s funeral, Bill would have just pulled out a suitable pair of pants and a dress shirt, but this was his brother and he said he needed his black suit. He couldn’t find it in the closet and he was getting angry but, of course, the errant suit was not the cause for his consternation. I walked to the closet and spotted the suit immediately. Handing it to Bill, I hugged him and kissed his cheek. As I ironed his shirt I could hear him crying softly. “Why’d you have to go and die, Jim?”
NAR©2024
This is Brooks and Dunn with “Believe”
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
I’m Sorry: A Dectina Refrain
Written for Sadje’s What Do You See #232
I’m
sorry
for the things
I said and did.
There’s no greater pain
than brothers grown apart.
How I have prayed for this day
when we put our anger to rest
and cried “I love you, my dear brother”.
I’m sorry for the things I said and did.
NAR©2024
#WDYS
This is “I’m Sorry” by John Denver
Dectina Refrain:
This poem is written as follows:
1st line – 1 syllable, 2nd line – 2 syllables
3rd line – 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines;
the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines
and is a stand-alone 10-syllable line.
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Nowhere Man
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.
NAR©2024
This is the Beatles with “Nowhere Man”
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
From Eden
Sammi at Weekend Writing Prompt has challenged us to write
a poem or prose of exactly 97 words, including the word ‘anfractuous’.
I’ve added a few other prompts I had laying around, namely from
FOWC with Fandango, Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge and
Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge. This is my 97-word story.
They lived in lush green perfection of ripe fruit and pristine water. When their misadventures and disobedience angered the Maker, they and their sons were cast out.
One son, a farmer, made an offering of paltry wheat; the Maker was displeased.
The other, a shepherd, offered his firstborn lamb, which pleased the Maker.
In a panic, the jealous farmer killed his brother.
Enraged and saddened, the Maker banished the murderer, condemning him to a life of endless wandering.
Anfractuous paths covered the land. The farmer roamed for years, until blindly falling from a cliff to his death.
NAR©2024
97 Words
This is Hozier with “From Eden”
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
Smoke Break
It’s time once again for
The Unicorn Challenge.
Here is my 250-word
response to the photo below.
Oh the irony! The hypocrisy!
There I was, sitting in my car taking a smoke break. Damn shame! We can’t smoke anywhere these days and that’s a perfect example of discrimination.
Anyway, I’m looking out the car window, and that’s when I spotted it …. a rubber glove on the ground. Disgusting!
Since I was parked just across from a nursing home, I figured that glove belonged to one of the employees there and that made me even angrier than I was. Imagine, a health facility employee tossing a glove away like that! I bet they throw their masks on the ground, too. Pigs!
What’s wrong with people? You’d think after 3+ years of Covid, they’d finally get it right and stop ditching their used gloves or masks on public property. I could never understand how someone, especially a health-care worker, could show such disrespect for other people. If I had seen whoever tossed that glove so indiscriminately, I would have said something.
Well, there’s only one thing to do …. I donned a glove, picked up the offensive litter and deposited it in the trash. Puffing on my smoke, I walked back to my car feeling very proud of myself.
Just then a pigeon landed on the trash can, picked out the glove and flew off only to drop the glove on the road. Well, I’ll be damned! It wasn’t a deliberate act of human negligence after all! I chuckled, my faith in mankind restored.
Flicking my cigarette butt out the window, I drove off.
NAR©2024
250 Words
This is “Hypocrites” by Bob Marley
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
The Piano Lesson
Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge
has challenged us to write a
Six Sentence Story and
include the word “task”.
This is my response.
Not having practiced the piano at all that one week, I called my instructor who was waiting for me at the church and declared into the phone “Mrs. Ridgeway, it’s Nancy and I can’t make it to my lesson today because it’s raining”; I was quite proud of myself for coming up with such a creative and foolproof excuse.
In her clipped New England-accented voice, Mrs. Ridgeway replied “You’re not a sugar cube and won’t melt in the rain”, then went on to say “Surely you have an umbrella you can use”; I was quick to inform her that I had left my umbrella on the school bus, adding that no one was at home with me to lend me an umbrella and my mother didn’t approve of me walking unprotected in the rain to which my piano teacher replied “Well then, I’ll just come to your house for your lesson”.
You could have knocked me over with a feather because I certainly was not expecting that response and, true to her word, ten minutes later Mrs. Ridgeway appeared at my front door, ready for the task at hand; I dilly-dallied as long as I could looking for my book of Schirmer’s Library of Musical Classics – Selected Piano Masterpieces, setting up my metronome, cracking my knuckles and swinging my arms a la Ed Norton and shifting butt cheeks searching for the most comfortable position until Mrs. Ridgeway’s patience reached the breaking point and she barked “Enough!” which nearly made me jump off the piano bench in a panic.
Shaking like the last leaf on a branch in a windstorm, I opened my lesson book to the appropriate page and began playing Beethoven’s Für Elise while Mrs. Ridgeway sat next to me, staring over my shoulder and glaring; I played as though I was wearing boxing gloves and, being the master sleuth that she was, Mrs. Ridgeway saw right through my brilliant plot.
Angrier than my sister the day she discovered I had ripped off all the heads on her Barbie dolls, Mrs. Ridgeway exclaimed I had wasted her valuable time and she doubled my lessons for the next week which would have been tolerable if she hadn’t reported to my mother who got so mad because of my lack of responsibility, she withheld my allowance for the next two weeks and took away my TV privileges …. even Dr. Kildare.
Hoisted by my own petard!
NAR © 2024
This is what Für Elise is supposed to sound like; you’ll notice Lang Lang is not wearing boxing gloves (but I bet he’d sound just as good even if he was).
The incomparable Jackie Gleason and Art Carney in a clip from the Honeymooners – Suwanee River. How could I possibly resist?
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
HOME FOR CHRISTMAS
Time once again for Friday Fictioneers.
Rochelle has offered up this photo challenge.
This is my 100-word response.
This can’t be the right place.
Checked my text message again; yeah, it’s the correct address.
In all my years as Santa Claus, I’ve been sent to a few places that tore my heart out but they were castles compared to this.
Broken windows could only mean no heat. No lights – obviously no electricity.
My white-gloved hand grabbed the fence and it shook as my anger began to rise. How do people exist like this? Why is homelessness allowed to continue?
Dammit! Better get a grip and do my job. Can’t have these sweet kids going without yet another night.
NAR © 2023
100 Words
From 1984, this is “Do They Know It’s Christmas” from Band Aid
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section. NAR © 2017-present.
SEETHING MAN
Rochelle at Friday Fictioneers
has challenged us once again
with an intriguing photo prompt.
This is my response.
The man stood off to the side, silently watching, seething.
They were neighbors, friends at one time …. brothers, a lifetime ago. When asked to go into business together, he turned his friend down saying it was a foolish venture, throwing good money after bad. He was afraid.
His friend was successful in his business and became wealthy beyond measure while his own life languished. Jealousy turned to self-pity which morphed into anger and hatred so deep and volatile, his head pounded at the sight of his once friend.
And look at her with that flashy red purse. Disgusting.
NAR © 2023
100 Words
This is “My Brother’s Keeper” by Orphaned Land
THE PROMISE
Say, God! We your children, the citizens of the world, the people you created in your own image – Father, we have some questions for you.
Did you create this deadly, horrendous virus or did you give man the ability to cultivate it in a laboratory? Did you decide one day that you’ve had enough of this amoral world and it was time to start anew or perhaps not restart at all?
Or is it the handiwork of the devil? After all, how many times did he tempt your beloved Son during his 40 days in the desert? Turning stones into bread to relieve Jesus’ hunger while he fasted; daring Jesus to throw himself off a mountain by offering him dominion over all earthly kingdoms; demanding Jesus kneel before him, again for all the empires of the world. The temptations of hedonism, egoism and materialism – not unlike the world of 2020.
So what is this hideous evil we are facing now – this demon bug which does not discriminate between those people who are right and good and just or the ones who are evil and sadistic and selfish? It doesn’t care if the victim is a person of power and influence or a homeless man huddled in a cardboard box under a bridge.
Just recently people were going about their everyday lives – shopping in malls, attending concerts, catching a hockey game, dining out, getting married, hopping a plane to Rome. Kids went to school. People went to work. We went to church – your house where we gathered with our brothers and sisters, clasping hands in a sign of peace. Now your holy houses are closed.
Grandparents were welcoming their newborn grandchildren only to be snatched from their lives. Kids were gleeful to be home from school until they began missing their friends. They couldn’t have play dates or go to Cub Scouts or music lessons or the toy store. Jobs were lost, restaurants shut down, playgrounds deserted with only empty swings swaying in the wind.
Wearing rubber gloves while shopping became necessary, scared and wary eyes visible above our ubiquitous masks. People stowed bread and milk and eggs in their shopping bags and hoarded sanitizers and toilet paper. Some became greedy, leaving little on the shelves for others.
How many of your children will die? How many doctors, nurses, police officers, firefighters and truckers put their lives on the line without a second thought, most unable to go home at night to their families? The elderly – confused, frightened and lonely in nursing homes – separated from their families because visits are forbidden. The women in the throes of childbirth afraid to go to the hospital, perhaps not even allowed to go to the hospital.
We have new words and phrases in our vocabulary – self-isolation, flatten the curve, shelter in place, social-distancing. Yet there are comforting and familiar words such as hope, peace, love, family, faith and health. Those are the words we cling to every day. Those are the words that are stronger than anxiety, depression, helplessness, solitude and fear.
Eons ago you destroyed the earth by water. Only eight righteous people and every kind of animal were spared. You made this promise: “Never again will I curse the earth; neither will I again smite every thing living, as I have done”.
No, Father! We your children refuse to believe that you have abandoned us. We know you are a loving and compassionate God. You will end this vile curse, freeing us to once again walk arm in arm, our faces basking in the glow of your never-ending love.
NAR © 2020
The Elephant's Trunk 