Written for RDP, where Martha asks us
ย to get creative with the word โpresentโ.
Thanks Martha! Hereโs my take.
Tag: Children
RDP Saturday: party
Written for RDP, where Punam asks us
to get creative with the word โpartyโ.
Thanks, Punam! Hereโs my take.
Those Were The Days
Our gracious host, Rochelle, is asking us to get
creative in 100 words or less using the photo
seen below. Welcome to Friday Fictioneers.
This is where the prompt took me.
RDP Tuesday: achievement
Written for RDP where Martha asks
โWhatโs one of your greatest achievements?โ
Hereโs my response. Thanks, Martha!
RDP Wednesday: shuttle
Today at RDP, sgeiol has asked us to share a story,
ย poem, photo, painting, essay, etc., focusing
on the word โshuttleโ. Hereโs my take.
You’re It!
Written for RDP Monday
Todayโs prompt is: Tag
Is Magic Real?
Smiling Girls & Rosy Boys
Written for Sammiโs Weekend Writing
Prompt #426 using the word โplethoraโ;
in exactly 67 words, this is my take.
Suspended Animation
This is The Unicorn Challenge where we are
encouraged to write a story in 250 words or
less using the photo below as inspiration.
I used a story of mine from 2019 which I
remembered the minute I saw the image.
Quiet Desperation
Written for OLWG #418.
The prompts appear below.
This is my story.
The Mission
Written for Sue & Gerryโs Weekly Prompts
Weekend Challenge using the prompt word
โhangโ. The amazing graphic shown below
is by Kevin @ The Beginning At Last/
No Theme Thursday. This is my flash.
From Tiny Seeds
Written for Shwetaโs Saturday Six Word Story
Prompt #133 – โkindnessโ. This is my tiny story.
Unaffected
Written for Shwetaโs Saturday Six Word Challenge #129.
The prompt this week is โvisionโ. Here is my 6 word story.
Boxful Of Memories
Written for Estherโs Writing Prompts #50
where the prompt word is โphotographsโ.
This is my family’s true story.
Potty Mouth
Written for OLWG #402. The three prompts
for this week are given below. This my story.
Getting To Know Me
Written for Kymber Hawkeโs Get To Know You #48
Here are her three question and my three answers.
Another World
Written for Friday Fictioneers. Our host Rochelle
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.
Things were easier then, life was different. Kids felt safe in their little bubbles. Iโd cycle to my piano lessons, cutting through the empty lot without a shred of fear.
Iโd ring the bell for my lesson; if my teacher didnโt answer immediately, Iโd wait on the bench. One time I waited so long, I was about to leave when the door flew open and a girl came running out, sobbing, her clothes a disheveled mess. My teacher called out after her. ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย
My only reason for ever feeling fear was the way my piano teacher looked at me that day.
NARยฉ2024
100 Words
This is โWash Away Those Yearsโ by Creed
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for Nancy ~ The Sicilian Storyteller, Nancy (The Sicilian Storyteller), The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantโs Trunk, and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NARยฉ2017-present.
In My Life
Written for Tanka Tuesday Poetry Challenge,
Specific Form 11/19/24. My theme is โfamilyโ.
I have chosen to write a Shadorma, a Spanish
poetic form that consists of six-line stanzas (sestets)
with a specific syllable count for each line: (3/5/3/3/7/5).
Gashkuduro
Written for Wordle #678; I have incorporated the 12 words
which you see below into my story and featured one of the
amazing images created by Kevin at No Theme Thursday.
Here is my story; heed the warnings within.
ghoulishใปnightใปwindใปtricksใปspinใปwrap
spellใปwithinใปdeadใปcryptใปburiedใปwicked
Family Affair
Written for Song Lyric Sunday. This week Jim Adams
has asked his readers in his post ‘Quality Time’ to write about
a song dealing with parenting or a child/parent relationship.
This theme was my suggestion and here is my reply.
Bisnonna*
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are
asked to get creative in 250 words or less using
the photo below as inspiration. Here is my story.
The ambience in our house was different today, quietly busy as delivery men and acquaintances paying their respects came and went. My father and motherโs uncles directed the traffic of floral deliveries and positioned the many arrangements throughout the parlor. My mother and her aunts labored in the kitchen like silent worker bees preparing trays of food for the funeral dinner tomorrow.
We children sat meekly on the two enormous matching sofas along the side walls, eyes downcast, confused and uncharacteristically restrained. Occasionally we would glance toward the elevated casket in the center of the room and quickly look away. At 6:00 we were whisked off to the dining room where we wordlessly ate our evening meal, then returned to the parlor to continue our vigil.
There seemed to be a never-ending flow of people, a soft parade of mourners entering our house. Veiled women dabbed their eyes and men removed their hats, heads bowed. This stream flowed seamlessly from 2:00 in the afternoon until 9:30 that evening, many people lingering to reflect while caressing their rosary beads. A priest arrived shortly after 9:30; he spoke softly in our native Sicilian dialect, offering prayers and words of consolation. When he was finished, everyone except my motherโs aunts and uncles departed. My little cousins, some no longer able to stay awake, were carried home and my sister and I were shooed off to our bedroom upstairs.
It had been a long and sorrowful day. My great-grandmother, the family matriarch, had died.
NARยฉ2024
250 Words
*Bisnonna is the Sicilian word for “great-grandmother”.
Authorโs Note: I was nine years old when my great-grandmother died. Much of that day is etched in my mind; in particular, I remember being unable to sleep that night knowing there was a dead body in a coffin downstairs in my parlor. Never ever will I forget the cold and waxy feel of my bisnonnaโs skin on my lips as I, along with all the other children, lined up to place a kiss on her forehead … not something we did willingly.
This is โPaint It Blackโ by the Rolling Stones
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantโs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NARยฉ2017-present.
Feeling The Burn
Written for Friday Fictioneers where we are
encouraged to get creative by writing a story
of no more than 100 words using this photo
as our inspiration. Here is my 100 word story.
It was the summer of โ59 and I was going to spend July and August with my cousins at the shore. Iโd been packing since my last day of school, finishing two days before taking off.
The following morning I awoke with fever, sore throat, bumpy tongue and a facial rash. Scarlet fever, the doctor said. The disease was highly contagious. I was prescribed antibiotics and my parents were warned to keep me home.
My summer plans were abruptly cancelled; I was dejected. All I could do was watch my friends playing, my nose pressed up against the window screen.
NARยฉ2024
100 Words
This is โFeverโ by Little Willie John
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantโs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NARยฉ2017-present.
Suspended Animation
Written for Six Sentence Story where we are given a word,
in this case ‘lift’, and asked to incorporate it into a story of
no more than six sentences. This is my true story of family.
ยฉ NAR
โMangia il cibo sul tuo piatto, Concetta, o lo mangerai dal pavimentoโ โ (โEat the food on your plate, Concetta, or you will eat it off the floor.โ)
Without changing her expression or taking her huge brown eyes off her father Domenicoโs face, three year old Concetta picked up a meatball, extended her arm over the side of her highchair and very calmly let it drop to the floor.
Silence.
Everyone sat in suspended animation as Domenico deliberately put down his knife and fork and removed the napkin which was tucked into the neck of his shirt; slowly he stood up, walked behind Concettaโs chair, grabbed the back of her dress and lifted her up.
Holding her feet with his other hand, Domenico lowered Concettaโs face to the floor until her mouth touched the meatball; she tried to turn away, but Domenico pushed her face into the food, forcing her to take the meatball into her mouth, then, satisfied, he sat her back in her highchair, returned to his seat and resumed eating while Concetta languidly chewed what was in her mouth.
Hesitantly, self-consciously, everyone resumed eating and talking except Concettaโs mother Rosa who sat watching her daughter closely; at the end of the meal as the women cleared the table, Rosa placed a napkin over her defiant daughterโs mouth so she could spit out the uneaten meatball and whispered in her ear โMai piรน, Concetta; obbedisci a tuo padre!โ โ (โNever again, Concetta; obey your father!โ)
NARยฉ2024
This is a Sicilian folksong called โMi votu e mi rivotuโ (โI toss and I turnโ)
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantโs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NARยฉ2017-present.
For My Daughters-In-Law On Mother’s Day
Daughters-in-law are our grandchildren’s mothers.
As such, they carry our fortunes downstream.
Under their guidance, our hopes become others’,
Giving their force to a much larger dream.
How lucky we are to have you for the carer
That nurtures the hearts of our hearts, that they may
Each be a lover, a giver and sharer,
Remaking the world in their image each day.
So do we all, like streams from the mountains,
In time become joined in the souls we have made,
Now mingled forever, eternal companions,
Linked by our love in a bond that won’t fade.
As you in your noontime your work of love do,
We watch from the hillside, grateful for you.
NARยฉ2024
This is โMy Wish For Youโ by Rascal Flatts
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantโs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NARยฉ2017-present.
The Floor Lamp
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 Lauraโs 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 babyโs attention and she was captivated by it, something Laura thought was a sweet connection, especially since the lamp originally belonged to Momma and Poppy, Summerโs 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 โ smiling, eyes glowing, arms waving, laughing and babbling loudly โ 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 โ 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 โMomma and Poppy, of course; canโt you see them, Mommy?โ
Laura caught her breath for a moment but she was not completely shocked for she knew Momma and Poppyโs lamp was special โ the very reason Laura wanted it in her own home, but she didnโt 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 werenโt. ๐ชฝ
NARยฉ2024
This is “Guardian Angels” performed by John McLaughlin, Larry Coryell and Paco De Lucia
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantโs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NARยฉ2017-present.
Berry Picking
Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge has once again
challenged us to write a Six Sentence Story
using the prompt word “nail”. This is my story.
When I first saw him I thought I was hallucinating (was this a real person or a fear-induced illusion?) and I knew I had to remain perfectly still and quiet โ my very life depended on it.
I had no idea how long Iโd been there โ certainly long enough for my skin to have turned red, my mouth parched, my lips cracked and I remember being stung and bitten by insects and digging my nails into the palms of my hands to keep from crying out, but I recall now โฆ we were picking flowers and berries in a sun-filled field โฆ we had been following a stream and unknowingly wandered far from home when I caught sight of a bush hidden deep in a shady area; the plant was heavy with ripe blackberries and I couldnโt resist running to the bush, happily filling my bucket with the deep purple fruit.
I was busy plucking berries when I heard screams โ not the usual giddy, playful squeals of young girls but awful shrieks of terror and I started to run back only to see my three sisters encircled by a group of Indians, hulking and menacing men, blocking the girlโs attempts to flee; they wore breechcloths across their midsection, moccasins and no shirts, their faces painted and their heads shaved except for a center strip of upright long hair and I knew immediately they were the dreaded Mohawk.
They tugged the girlโs long blonde hair, poked them with sticks and tore at their starched white dresses.
I wanted to shout out but was too afraid and I hid while my sweet little sisters were raped and raped and raped.
At 15, I was the eldest and I was supposed to protect them; how could I be such a coward?
NARยฉ2024
This is Albinoniโs โAdagio In G Minorโ
Death In The Family
Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge is asking us to
write a Six Sentence Story using the word “pass”.
This is my six sentence story.
The house is quiet tonight โฆ.eerily quiet โฆ. for all the lights are off and only the glow of candles shines dimly through the curtained windows, performing a ballet of shadows on the walls and ceiling; every so often a door softly opens, barely perceptible murmurings are audible, then the door gently closes as intermittent muted sobbing creeps up from the parlor.
I sit on my bed huddled under a blanket, a tiny flashlight flickering a pale yellow beam on my diary as I jot down my memories of the day; I must be quiet because my mother will be very upset with me if she discovers Iโm still awake at this late hour.
My window is open just enough to let in some fresh air and the distinct smell of cigarette smoke wafts up into my room; I peek out to see my motherโs uncles sitting on the back steps silently smoking their unfiltered Lucky Strike cigarettes, their black armbands starkly visible against their plain starched white shirts.
I tip-toe across the length of my bedroom, praying the old wooden floorboards beneath the well-worn rug will not creak and ever so slowly I turn the glass doorknob; the hallway is dark but I can detect a muted light downstairs and I scurry nearer to the staircase railing for a better look as I sit there hugging my knees asking myself if I should creep downstairs and take a peek.
A few hours earlier the ambience of the house was much different, still subdued but active as delivery men came and went and acquaintances passed through the hallway into the parlor to pay their respects while my mother and the other women labored in the kitchen like mute worker bees, preparing trays of food for the constant flow of visitors, and my father, along with my uncles, positioned the many floral arrangements throughout the parlor; we children sat quietly on the two enormous matching sofas along the side walls, eyes downcast, confused and uncharacteristically subdued, occasionally glancing toward the walnut casket resting atop a platform in the center of the room and quickly look away.
Around 6:00 we were quietly whisked away into the dining room where we silently ate our supper, then returned to the parlor to continue our vigil; it had been a long and sorrowful day, the longest day in our young lives, for the family matriarch, my great-grandmother had died.
This is Enrico Caruso singing “Mamma mia, che vo’sapรฉ” (“My mother, what did you know?”)
NARยฉ2024
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantโs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR ยฉ 2017-present.
THE IVY GARDEN
From our kitchen window I can see my little girl Nell playing with her new best friend Elena. Since moving to Atlanta two months ago, the girls have become inseparable. They are both four years old and about the same height but thatโs where the physical similarities end.
Nell is a green-eyed lanky Irish redhead covered in a profusion of freckles while Elena is a slightly plump Spanish beauty with brown doe eyes, smooth tanned skin and lustrous black hair.
As I stand at the kitchen sink I can see the girls frolicking in the yard with Elena’s puppy, Pongo. Their energy is boundless as they dash back and forth from the swings to the trampoline to their bikes. They like to play a funny game where little Pongo is a scary monster chasing them around the yard …. and Pongo is always happy to oblige.
Moving around the kitchen doing my chores, I can hear Elena counting, followed by an excited โready or notโฆ.here I comeโ, then the hysterical giggles as Nellโs secret (but usual!) hiding place is discovered.
The yard is fenced in and Iโm completely aware of the girls and what theyโre doing …. most of the time. Occasionally theyโll wander into a concealed corner of the garden to pick wild flowers for me and Elenaโs mom. Even though I canโt see them, I can clearly hear their conspiratorial mumblings as they go from one blossom to the other.
โButtercups, Daisies and Lillies of the Valleyโ whispered Elena.
โAnd some pretty shiny ivyโ added Nell. โMommy likes shiny things.โ
All was quiet and I presumed the girls would come dashing into the kitchen and present me with a freshly-picked bouquet; instead Pongo bounded in, yipping and yapping like crazy …. an omen that all is not as it should be. To my relief, there’s no sign of anything unusual in the dining room. The front door is locked and my handbag is still resting on the desk where I left it. To my amazement, on the crisp white tablecloth sat a short blue glass vase brimming with Daisies, Buttercups, Lillies of the Valley and ivy. It was breathtaking.
I stood there admiring the green, white and golden cluster when suddenly I heard woeful whimpering and sobbing nearby. Pongo gave a little tug on the end of the tablecloth and there, huddled closely, were Nell and Elena, their little bodies covered in itchy red rashes. Only then did I realize the vine in the vase with flowers was poison ivy!
โCome with me, my sweet girls. Itโs nothing a little calamine lotion wonโt fix. Thank you for the flowers …. the most beautiful Iโve ever seen! Wonโt daddy be surprised when he comes home tonight!โ I said, smiling and chuckling to myself.
And tomorrow we will rid the garden of all the pretty shiny ivy.
NARยฉ2024
This is Spanky and Our Gang with “Lazy Day”
This portfolio (includingย text, graphics and videos)ย is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantโs Trunkย and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR ยฉ 2017-present.
Chastised
My quadrille for dVerse
using the word โimagineโ
As a former childrenโs choir director,
I often rewrote the lyrics
to favorite songs.
My days as a lyricist ended
after being chastised by a pastor
who accused me of
โlacking imaginationโ
by using the same melody
and ‘simply changing the words‘.
Imagine that!
NARยฉ2024
44 Words
A lovely dream โฆ. Just imagine!
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantโs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR ยฉ 2017-present.
LONGYEARBYEN
It’s time once again for The Unicorn Challenge,
and oh, what a challenge it was this time!
Here is my response to the photo prompt below.
Little Arvid was just a wee babe when his parents were tragically killed in a sledding accident. The only family he had was his Uncle Gunnar and Aunt Sigrid, who happily took him in to live with them. They were childless and lovingly raised their nephew.
Gunnar and Sigrid were little people, married for so long, neither one could recollect; their devotion was so rare, it kept them young. In fact they hadnโt aged at all since the day they married!
They lived in a tiny house in the worldโs northernmost town of Longyearbyen, just 650 miles from the North Pole.
As Arvid grew, it became obvious that he, too, would be a little person; this was no problem because almost everyone in the town of Longyearbyen was a little person.
When Arvid reached the age of 8, Gunnar and Sigrid knew it was time for โthe talkโ. With great care they led Arvid into a small privy which was so secluded, Arvid had never seen it before. There was an imposing teal blue safe inside โฆ. how very curious! Arvid was even more surprised when Uncle Gunnar opened the safeโs door to find it led directly outdoors!
The little family hopped on a long sled parked outside and sped down the snowy mountains until they reached the most magical place of all โฆ. The North Pole! Soon, alongside his aunt and uncle, Arvid learned the mystical wonders of life โฆ. helping Santa make toys for good girls and boys.
NAR ยฉ 2023
250 Words
Ho! Ho! Ho! This is “Jingle Bell Rock (Daryl’s Version)” by Hall & Oates, pre-restraining order, don’t you know. Yeah, it is! ๐ ๐ผ
The Elephant's Trunk 