Written for MLMM Monday Wordle;
the prompt words are shown below.
call, delete, diary, found, level, maiden,
nobody, now, phone, reprimand, tired, vindictive
Tag: Mystery
Behind The Blue Door
Written in response to this delightful photo
by Brian Dodd at bushboys world, who
graciously allows me to share with you.
Hereβs where the image took me.
RDP Saturday: book club
Written for RDP where Punam asks us to
get creative with the words βbook clubβ.
Thanks, Punam! Hereβs where the prompts took me.
The Watcher
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.
Housecalls – Part 3: What Was Left Behind
You may read Part 2 HERE.
Continue reading “Housecalls – Part 3: What Was Left Behind”Reconstruction
Written for Joleneβs Itβs Story Time.
The prompts are shown below;
hereβs where they took me.
The Sorry Truth: A Dirk Malone Story
Written for MLMM Monday Wordle #461.
Our twelve prompt words are shown below.
Here’s where they took me. Thanks, Di!
petty, rich, custom, sorry, pride, worry,
try, carry, support, honest, suggest, and head
The Wrong Turn
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.
Beneath The Surface
Written for Melissaβs Fandango
Flash Fiction Challenge – #336.
Hereβs where the photo prompt took me.
In Search Of Answers
Our gracious host, Rochelle, encourages us
to be creative by writing a story in 100 words
or less using the photo prompt below. This is
Friday Fictioneers. Hereβs where the photo took me.
Southern Gothic
This week at Glyn Wiltonβs Mixed Music Bag,
heβs asking us to write about a song in which
the title or a line mentions the current month.
Hereβs my final artist for June and her song.
The Gardener
Written for WTFAIOA Pick 3 #5,
using at least 3 of the 21 randomly
selected words on the bottom of the page.
The image below from Only Murders In My Mind
Weekly Writing Prompt #59 was my inspiration.
I was able to use all 21 words in my story.
The Burden Of Secrets
Written for OLWG #417.
The prompts appear below.
This is my story.
There’s Always Something
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.
Swallowed Up
Written for Only Murders In My Mind
Weekly Writing Prompt #55. This weekβs
inspiration is the photo seen below.
That’s Entertainment – Letter O
Welcome back to βThatβs Entertainment!β β
The A To Z Challenge.
I hope you enjoy my musical selections.
Letβs see whatβs up today!
Muted Moments
Written for Muse On Monday,
where the theme is βlost in a fog’.
Also for Sadjeβs βWhat Do You See?” –
#284 and the two corresponding photo
prompts shown below. This is my story.
It Is What It Is
Written for OLWG #412.
The three prompts are shown below.
This is my take.
Do No Harm
Well, look at that! Itβs my turn in the hot seat
place of honor at Friday Fictioneers as the
lovely Rochelle has chosen my photo as this
weekβs head-scratcher inspiration. Iβm tingling
with fear anticipation at the ridiculous masterful
100 word stories that await us! Letβs get the show
on the road, shall we? This is not my photo and my flash.
Gilded Cages
Written for Sammiβs Weekend Writing
Prompt #410 using the word βopulenceβ in
exactly 98 words. Also for Sue & Gerryβs
Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge and
the word βsilverβ. This is my 98-word story.
Is There A Detective In The House?
Written for Estherβs βCan You Tell A Story Inβ¦..? #279β
This week we are faced with one or two challenges:
to write a story in exactly 7 words using the word βimposterβ
and/or a story in exactly 50 words including the five required
prompts: βcoatβ, βpieβ, βqualifyβ, βLatinβ, βauntβ and βmaze. Never
one to shy away from a challenge, here’s my two-stories-in-one!
On The Rocks – Part 5: The Euganean Hills
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where
we are urged to get creative in 250 words or less.
The photo below is our inspiration; this is my story.
The Sentinel
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where
we are urged to get creative in 250 words or less.
The photo below is our inspiration; this is my story.
The Harmonica
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are
encouraged to be creative in 250 words or less
using the photo below as inspiration. This is my story.

He was neither old nor young and if he had memories β¦ good, bad, happy or sad β¦ they were long forgotten, washed away like tears in rain.
His hand reached for his breast pocket, fingers touching the familiar object resting inside. A harmonica. He had no idea where it came from nor did he know why it was in his pocket yet somehow with an intrinsic knowledge he knew it was his.
Removing the instrument from his pocket, he stared at it as he reverently caressed the wood, reading the faded inscription. Raising it to his mouth, he began to play an old tune he forgot he even knew.
People passing by dropped coins into the white cloth shopping bag at his feet. He might not remember much but he’d never forget the delicious aroma of the crusty baguette in his bag.
A little boy of perhaps eight years of age shyly approached, dropped a coin in the manβs bag and ran back to his father waiting nearby. There was something about the older man that made the boyβs father pause for just a moment.
This ritual continued for several days and the two men pensively acknowledged each other with a nod.
One day before the boy ran back to his father, the man slipped the harmonica into his hand. When the boyβs father read the inscription, he knew. He looked up but the older man was gone.
He closed his eyes as a teardrop landed on the harmonica.
NARΒ©250
250 Words

This is βGeorgia On My Mindβ by Charlie McCoy
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.
Lower Forty Soliloquy
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

βWhere you been, girl? You got anythin’ goinβ on in that head of yours besides them nonsense rhymes? Your Maβs been cookinβ 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 hanginβ βround that good-for-nuthinβ boy again, girl. If I told you once, I told you a thousand times … keep away from him! Thereβs somethinβ not right with that boy! Heβll bring nuthinβ but misery. You start messinβ around with him and youβre 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! Iβm your Pa and I know when youβre lyinβ β¦ just like you was lyinβ about not bein’ out by the river. You know how I know that? βCause somebody done seen ya. I see by the look in your eyes that itβs true. Yeah, you was seen by that new preacher man. And that ainβt 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 ainβt got a lick a sense between ya. Stop this dang foolishness βcause itβs gonna lead to no good! Cβmon now, girl … dinnerβs waitin‘.
Anna, your cookin’ is fit for a king!
What you goin’ on about, woman? Jesus! I seen that boy just yesterday. Now, whyβd he go do a fool thing like that!β
NARΒ©2024
250 Words

This is βOde To Billie Joeβ by Bobbie Gentry
NB: Bobbie Gentry remarked that the message in Ode To Billie Joe revolved around the “nonchalant way” the family discussed Billie Joeβs 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.β 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. Β
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NARΒ©2017-present.
WITHOUT A TRACE

Behind the windows of this estate there once resided a reclusive couple. Itβs said that everyone has a story; this couple was no exception.
As young newlyweds they longed for a child but were unable to conceive. They sought the advice of seers and gypsies, to no avail.
Now middle-aged, the wife found she was pregnant. She was told the babe would not survive but survive it did and grew inside its mother, causing her great discomfort. Finally the time arrived for the birth. The wife labored for hours and as the babyβs head began to emerge, the midwife screamed and ran from the house.
The husband took the midwifeβs place and immediately recoiled in fear. The wife pleaded for her husband to pull the baby from her body but he refused. Reaching down between her legs, the wife grabbed hold and pulled until the babe was free. Asking her husband to bring the lantern closer so she could see the infant, the new mother gasped and cried out in horror and despair.
The poor babe was grotesque, his head enormous with eyes fused closed and his mouth a mere slit.
Without looking back, the husband left the house, heading to the tavern to drown his sorrows. He informed everyone that the baby had died. Filled with remorse, he returned home to find his wife and baby gone. He went searching but never found them. He died, a broken man.
No trace was ever found of the mother or baby.
NAR Β© 2023
250 Words

THE MONK

Typing the final paragraph of my thesis, my computer crashed. It would not start up at all.
This could not be happening!
The closest place that had public computers was the library. I ran there, rushing through the doors into the brightly lit room. All the computers were being used! Frantic, I explained my problem to the librarian and asked if there was another computer available.
She brought me to a room. The door locked behind me. There was a desk, paper, a quill and a candle. And I was wearing sandals and a medieval monk’s robe.
Where was I?
NAR Β© 2023
100 words written forΒ Sammiβs Weekend Writing Prompt: Script
BARK AT THE MOON

This was the sixth night in a row that a nightmare woke me up. Iβm a sound sleeper but something was throwing me off and this past week did a number on me. I felt drained and on edge. Now it was 2:00 AM and I was craving a cigarette. I got up and scoured my apartment hoping to find a smoke β which I didnβt β and thinking about why I was having these constant nightmares. I mean, nothing different happened in my life, except Iβd started smoking again.
And there was also her.
Last weekend I went to a party and this gorgeous redhead walked up to me and asked me for a light. Iβd quit smoking about eight months earlier but for some reason β call it a security blanket β I continued to carry my Bic around in my pocket. This chick was way too hot to let her slip through my fingers so I reached into my jeans and pulled out my lighter.
I flicked my Bic and damn(!) if she didnβt cup both her hands around mine as I lit her cigarette. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, the smoke encircling her head. All the while her eyes never left mine. She had the palest blue eyes Iβd ever seen and the contrast against her red hair and mouth was bewitching. Then she did something to me no woman had ever done before; she took the cigarette from her lips and placed it between mine. That move was so intrinsically sexual, I couldnβt think of anything else but possessing this woman. I took a long drag, that familiar heat singeing my lungs.
We shared her cigarette and when there was nothing left, she took me by the hand and led me into the bathroom. Locking the door, she turned her back to me and leaned against the sink staring at my reflection in the full-length mirror. She hiked up her skirt and I was not surprised to see she wasnβt wearing panties. She said two words and they werenβt βHappy Halloweenβ; I didnβt have to be told twice.
Fifteen minutes later we left the bathroom together. I went to get us a couple of drinks and when I turned around, she was gone. I searched everywhere but couldnβt find her. Just like that β the greatest bathroom sex I ever had and now she was gone. And I was left craving her and another cigarette. That was the night I fell off the wagon.
Now I needed a smoke so badly I tried to salvage butts from the trash but they were all buried under a soggy coffee filter. I had no alternative but to head out to the all-night 7-Eleven.
I grumbled and dragged myself out of bed. I switched on the overhead lamp and immediately cringed and looked away; the damn light hurt my eyes too much. Squinting, I staggered into the bathroom and splashed water on my face. Grabbing a towel, I wiped off and looked in the mirror. Holy shit! What I saw startled yet intrigued me. My eyes had changed from brown to ice blue. There was no denying that woman had done a number on me.
It was now 2:30 AM. I threw on yesterdayβs clothes, turning up the collar of my leather jacket. Before venturing out I grabbed my shades. Stepping outside, I was momentarily caught off guard by the number of freaks walking around; then I remembered Halloween was just winding down for many partygoers. A bright moon cast strange, elongated shadows across the walls. Dressed in black clothes, I must have blended in with the silhouettes for no one took notice of me.Β
As I entered the store I was pleased to see there was only one other customer β a nondescript woman wearing a hooded cape. I stood behind her at the register and when she turned to leave, I was blown away to see it was the redhead from the party. She looked directly at me, gave a little laugh and left without so much as a word. I was glad my dark glasses hid the lust in my eyes. I quickly bought my smokes and bolted from the store.
I looked up and down the street; nothing β she was gone. Then I spotted her standing across the street watching me. βOkβ I thought. βThis is gonna be interesting.β As soon as I started heading toward her, she turned and began walking away. She walked slowly, her cape swaying side to side, and I followed her just as slowly. She took her time and I had no doubts she knew I was there. She climbed the steps to an old apartment building; I followed. She casually walked up three flights of stairs and down the hall to the last door where she stopped, removed a key from her pocket and unlocked the door, leaving it slightly ajar as she stepped inside. If that wasnβt an invitation, I didnβt know what was. I entered the apartment and closed the door behind me.
The room was awash in moonlight streaming through the window where she stood staring up at the night sky. I lit a cigarette, took a long drag and handed it to her. She placed the cigarette between her bright red lips, took a couple of puffs and tossed it out the window. She turned to face me and shrugged off her cape. Of course she was naked; I would have been sorely disappointed if she wasnβt. She loosened her hair and a cascade of long crimson tresses escaped and flowed silently over her flawless body. Her hair shimmered in the moonlight; the fragrance of strawberries and honeysuckle filled the room. She was intoxicating.
She drew me closer and parted her lips in a sultry smile; it was then that I saw her delicate fangs. I was aroused, my cock throbbing. A deep passion rose in me and I groaned with a fierce hunger. I turned my head and willingly offered her my neck. She feasted on me, then gave herself up to me with shameless abandon.
Whatever I had become that night didnβt matter. Nothing mattered any more. My savage blood boiled as I barked at the moon.
NAR Β© 2022