Written for RDP, where leapingtoes asks us
to get creative with the word ‘reset’.
Thanks, Toes! Here’s my take.
Tag: Parents
Broken Promises
Written for MLMM Monday Wordle #451.
Our prompt words this week are: banish,
sad, guilty, weak, push, cute, way, cheeky,
sweet, furry, trick, and battle. Thanks, Di!
Here’s where the prompt words took me.
Rockin’ The Milky Way
Written for Only Murders In My Mind
Weekly Writing Prompt – #83.
Here’s where the photo prompt took me.
Unconditional
Written for Cinquain Poetry Prompt #20.
Our inspiration word is “parent”. I have
written a Mirror Cinquain, a 10-line,
single stanza poem with a syllable pattern
of 2 – 4 – 6 – 8 – 2 – 2 – 8 – 6 – 4 – 2.
Revelation
Written for Muse on Monday where David asks us
to write a story about our MC having an epiphany
at the beginning. Also written for Fandango’s Story
Starter #217 where the opening sentence is provided.
This is where the prompts and my imagination took me.
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.
In Vino Veritas
Written for The Unicorn Challenge
where we are encouraged to write a
story in 250 words or less using this
photo as inspiration. Here is my story.
April 24, 1981
This week at Glyn Wilton’s Mixed Music Bag,
he’s asking us to write about a song in which
the title or a line mentions the current month.
Here’s my featured April artist and his song.
Yakety Yak
Written for Esther’s “Can You Tell A Story In…..? #278”
Exactly 35 words including the four required prompts:
‘yeti’, ‘burger’, ‘zoom’ and ‘taboo’. Here’s my 35 word story.
The Stain
Written for OLWG #407. The three prompts
are shown below. This is my story.
Obsolete
Written for Friday Fictioneers where 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.
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.
So This Is Christmas
This week at Writing Prompts, Esther has teased us
with the word ‘Christmas’. Here are some happy
childhood memories from a piece I wrote in 2018.
This is my 2024 version of “So This Is Christmas”.
In My Life
Written for Tanka Tuesday Poetry Challenge,
Specific Form 11/19/24. My theme is ‘family’.
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).
Heads Up
Written for Kevin’s No Theme Thursday 10.24.24.
We’re offered incredibly creative images to inspire
and get our writing juices flowing. This is my story.
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.
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 ’59 and I was going to spend July and August with my cousins at the shore. I’d 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.
NAR©2024
100 Words
This is “Fever” by Little Willie John
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 Apartment: The Continuing Story of Harvey and Fiona
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are encouraged
to get creative in 250 words or less using the photo prompt
as inspiration. This is my 2nd story of Harvey and Fiona.
For another look at the 1st installment, click here.
Harvey and Fiona were as different as a gorilla and a swan but they had an undeniable chemistry and started falling in love. No one was more surprised than Fiona .… except her parents.
There was a major obstacle her parents couldn’t overlook – Harvey was Jewish. Fiona’s very Irish-Catholic father hated Harvey, calling him ‘Christ killer’ and ‘kike’. Her mother was crushed. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Can’t you see he’s no good for you? I don’t trust him, Fina girl!” she warned, crying into her apron. Fiona would not be dissuaded; with a heavy heart she closed the door of her childhood home behind her and never looked back.
Harvey and Fiona were married in city hall, the judge and his clerk their only guests and witnesses. After a weekend honeymoon in Niagara Falls, the couple settled into Harvey’s tiny apartment – a walk-up on the fifth floor with a depressing view of factories and government buildings.
Harvey worked the graveyard shift as a printer at the local newspaper, seven days a week from midnight till 8:00 AM. His fingernails were perpetually stained with black ink. The first morning he came home from work and saw the newly decorated apartment, he yelled furiously at Fiona for spending his money on unnecessary things. Uncaring, he left ink stains on the new bedspread when he sat down to remove his shoes.
Fiona cried silently in the kitchen. Harvey sidled up behind her, kissed a spot below her ear and she leaned into him.
NAR©2024
250 Words
This is “Love With The Proper Stranger” by Jack Jones
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.
Getting Kookie On The Beach
Written for Six Sentence Story where Denise
encourages us to get creative in just six sentences
incorporating the word “engagement”. Here’s my six.
The idea of my parents chaperoning me to the beach that night was mortifying but I figured I had to suck it up if there was a ghost of a chance of having any fun during this vacation in Surf City, so that night my mother, father and I went for a stroll on the beach, me hanging back about ten feet or so hoping the cool bonfire kids would think I was by myself; music was playing and marshmallows were roasting on long sticks …. everyone was tan and blonde and beautiful …. and that’s when I saw him …. he looked just like Edd ‘Kookie’ Byrnes from ’77 Sunset Strip’ and when he glanced up as we walked by and smiled, I fell hopelessly in love.
Thankfully, my parents quietly observed the group without their usual compulsion to make conversation and, satisfied what they saw wasn’t a remake of “Reefer Madness”, sat for a while high on a dune delighting in the reflection of the moon on the water; when it was time to go, the three of us walked back to the beach house …. but not before I had a chance to look over my shoulder and give Edd a little wave; he grinned and waved back (I was in heaven) and I knew I had to go to the next bonfire – alone.
I guess being out in the sun all day must have fried my parent’s brains because, when I nonchalantly asked them the next night if I could walk down to the bonfire by myself for a little while, they actually agreed; all I could think about was seeing Edd again and how relieved I felt that my older sister considered herself “too mature for a teeny-bopper beach party” and didn’t want to tag along.
The group was friendly and waved me over so, as casually as possible, I headed straight for Edd and sat down next to him and someone handed me a cold beer …. my first ever .… which I liked quite a bit; the kids were into Jan and Dean and The Beach Boys …. I was a Beatles girl but I wasn’t going to let that get in the way …. and by the end of the night, Edd and I were holding hands and agreed to meet again the following night.
That was the most blissful week of my young life …. lots of kissing and petting …. professions of love …. an “engagement ring” fashioned from a Bud Lite pull tab …. but we didn’t go beyond 2nd base; in all my 16 years, I’d never been as happy or excited to be with someone as I was with Edd.
At the end of the week we exchanged phone numbers and promised to call each other but that didn’t happened and it’s ok …. I never really thought it would …. I’m content with the memory; one thing I’m sure of is none of my friends will ever be able to say they spent a week making out on the beach with Edd ‘Kookie’ Byrnes.
NAR©2024
This is a really awful song called “Like, I Love You” by Edd ‘Kookie’ Byrnes and Joanie Sommers.
Here’s the theme song for the TV show, “77 Sunset Strip”.
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.
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.
© NAR
“Mangia il cibo sul tuo piatto, Concetta, o lo mangerai dal pavimento” – (“Eat the food on your plate, Concetta, or you will eat it off the floor.”)
Without changing her expression or taking her huge brown eyes off her father Domenico’s 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 Concetta’s chair, grabbed the back of her dress and lifted her up.
Holding her feet with his other hand, Domenico lowered Concetta’s 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 Concetta’s 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 daughter’s mouth so she could spit out the uneaten meatball and whispered in her ear “Mai più, Concetta; obbedisci a tuo padre!” – (“Never again, Concetta; obey your father!”)
NAR©2024
This is a Sicilian folksong called “Mi votu e mi rivotu” (“I toss and I turn”)
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Like Spitting Into The Wind
De Jackson, aka WhimsyGizmo at dVerse Poet’s Pub
has asked us to write Poems of Place for Quadrille #201.
This is my submission.
That time I found
myself
in the principal’s office
because
I
screamed
at
the teacher
who tried to put
his hand
up
my
shirt,
then
being assaulted
again
at home
by
my
mother
who accused me
of
“asking for it”.
Neither
place
felt
safe.
NAR©2024
44 Words
This is “Education – Another Brick In The Wall, Part 2” by Pink Floyd
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are 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.
IT’S A JUNGLE OUT THERE
Today Sadje is asking us “What do you see?”
Here’s my take on this photo prompt.
“Hold it right there, Bitsy. Where are you going with Sissy’s lion?”
“I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it.”
“Ok, but it might make you feel better if you do.”
“Nuthin’s gonna make it better.”
“Nothing, eh? Well, that sounds like a mighty big problem.”
“It is, Grammy.”
“You know, big problems become small ones when you share them with someone.”
“Really?”
“Oh, sure! Why don’t you share your problem with me?”
“Mr. Lion’s ear came off.”
“I see. And you’re afraid Sissy will find out, right?”
“Right.”
“Can I take a look at Mr. Lion?”
“No. I don’t want you to.”
“Not even if I can fix his ear? Remember when I fixed your bunny’s tail?”
“I’m just gonna hide Mr. Lion.”
“Ok, that’s a good idea, Bitsy …. until Sissy comes home from school.”
“Sissy’s gonna be real sad.”
“I think you’re right about that, Bitsy.”
“Can you really fix him, Grammy?”
“Well, I won’t know until I take a look.”
“Ok, here.”
“Hmm. You know, I think I have this color thread in my sewing box.”
“You do?”
“I think so but I have a big problem, Bitsy. I have trouble seeing the eye of the needle to get it threaded. Can you help me?”
“I can do that!”
“Great! Mr. Lion will be good as new.”
“And Sissy won’t ever know!”
“Now just a minute, Bitsy. You still have to tell Sissy.”
“But why, Grammy?”
“Because you were playing with Sissy’s lion behind her back. That’s sneaky and not a good way to behave. You understand, Bitsy? It’s important.”
“I guess.”
“Ok. Let’s work on this together.”
“Grammy, can we have ice cream?”
“We sure can …. just as soon as Sissy gets home.”
NAR © 2023
What do you see # 212- 13 November, 2023
This is “It’s A Jungle Out There” by Randy Newman:
Please stop by
The Rhythm Section
today as we celebrate
Birthday Thursdays.
There will be ice cream!
🍨
https://rhythmsection.blog/
THE SWING SET
Rochelle at “Friday Fictioneers” has challenged us to
write a 100 word piece about how the image below inspired us.
This is my original response to her challenge.
Devin and Charlie jumped out of her car, fiercely kissing and tearing at each other’s clothes.
What great luck for the teens with sex drives in hyper-mode; Devin’s cabin all to themselves while both sets of parents were far off on weekend vacations.
The teens planned to spend every minute in bed.
Devin retrieved the key from her pocket and unlocked the door.
The first shock was the romantic glow in the fireplace. The second? Finding all four parents getting it on …. and not with their own spouses.
And there stood Devin and Charlie letting it all hang out.
NAR © 2023
100 Words
This is T. Rex with “Bang A Gong” (Get It On)
BOOM SHAKALAKA
My parents fought just about all the time; from breakfast until Dad left for work they would argue about something, then they’d start in again after dinner.
I’d hear them arguing while I did my homework; at night while trying to get to sleep I would hear other noises coming from my parent’s bedroom which were pretty loud but they definitely weren’t fighting and the next morning they were all smiles – go figure.
Then one day my friend’s older sister told us we had to have a talk; she was 12 years old and already wearing a bra with a C cup so we paid attention. That was the infamous day we learned about S-E-X and boy, was that an eye-opener!
I was a pretty curious and precocious child so after that talk I figured out darn quick what those noises were from Mom and Dad’s bedroom at night and why they were always so happy the next morning after one of their big arguments.
Right then and there I promised myself when I got married I would fight with my husband as often as I could; I mean, if Mom and Dad were that happy every morning, there had to be something to this S-E-X thing after all.
NAR © 2023
A SOFT TOUCH
A couple of years ago New York was hit by a major snowstorm. Wearing thick-padded booties, the snow silently tiptoed in while we slept and when we awoke there was a three-foot-deep crystalline blanket everywhere we looked. It was coming down pretty heavy and we could barely see anything in the backyard as we looked out our bedroom window … almost as if someone was standing on our roof shaking out a king size comforter full of feathers. Bill and I stood there for a while taking in the silent beauty of it all, then shuffled into the kitchen to prepare a pot of coffee and a few slices of my homemade banana bread.
The instant we were done making breakfast, the lights went out. There was no point in trekking down to the basement to check the circuit breakers; we knew the area had experienced a power outage. We sat in the kitchen by the still-hot radiator enjoying our coffee and warm toasty bread, a pale white glow from the snow enveloping every room in the house. Before retreating to the living room, I poured our pot of coffee into a thermos to stay hot for a few hours.
I went to the closet and brought down Bill’s emergency hand crank radio with LED flashlight, AM/FM stations including the NOAH weather channel, a power bank of phone chargers and USB ports. This baby would serve us just fine until the power was restored. In the meantime Bill ventured out to the frozen tundra of the screened-in porch to retrieve some logs for the fireplace.
Bill got a nice fire going while I set up the radio on the table between our recliners. The phone chargers and USB ports were lifesavers; we were able to keep our cell batteries from dying and my laptop going so I could work on my stories. I was even able to plug in my new electric blanket which used a handy dandy USB port. Bill marveled at the technology of the little red radio and only bemoaned one design flaw – there was no TV.
We were happily ensconced in our recliners enjoying our little haven. All was silent outside except for an occasional gust of wind and every so often we’d spot a blue jay out our front window picking berries off the holly bush. I think we must have dozed off for a bit when we were roused by the harsh sound of steady scraping. We listened for a few seconds, then realized someone was outside shoveling the snow. We peered out the window to see our two little neighbors, six-year-old twins Jackson and Connor, shoveling our front path. At least that’s who we figured they were; it was impossible to tell by the way they were bundled up.
We sat back in our chairs, sipping our coffee and listening to the steady scrape-scraping of the boys’ shovels. Closer and closer the sound came; now they were clearing the steps leading to our front door. The adagio of their shovels was replaced by a sharp staccato knocking on our front door. I sank deeper into my blanket while Bill went to get some money to pay the enterprising kids, delighted that he didn’t have to shovel our front path himself. He opened the heavy wooden door and stood just inside the glass storm door to settle up accounts. Jackson and Connor stood on the front porch leaning on their shovels; toothless grins, cherry-red faces and sparkling blue eyes glistened in the still-rapidly falling snow which clung to their long blonde eyelashes.
“We cleared your path for you, Mr. Richy!” they proudly declared in unison, looking over their shoulders to admire their handiwork which was now covered by a fresh ½” of new snow. They looked back at Bill, staring up at him for his approval, their faces sporting the goofiest, most irresistible smiles imaginable.
“I see that, boys, and a fine job it is, too” replied Bill. “So tell me, what’s your going rate?“
With furrowed brows and crinkled noses the twins eloquently asked “Huh??”
“How much do I owe you for shoveling our path?” Bill asked in a way they could understand.
Very matter-of-factly with absolutely no sign of embarrassment or regret, the boys announced “Oh, we’re not allowed to accept money. Our mom and dad said we have to do good deeds.”
“Hold that thought, boys, and don’t go anywhere.”
Bill scurried back into the living room. “Are you hearing any of this conversation?” he asked me, clearly incredulous. “A concept like that in this day and age is mind-blowing!”
“Well, what’s your game plan?” I asked, knowing Bill always had a plan brewing.
“My game plan? Why, I’m going to pay those boys for a job well done and toss in a few packs of Pokémon cards just for good measure!” He was downright gleeful.
Bill scurried back to the boys and, opening the door just a crack to keep the cold out, shoved $20 and two packs of cards into their pockets.
The boys immediately started to put up a fuss about taking the money but Bill told them to stash it in their piggy banks for a rainy day and if their dad had a problem with it, he was more than welcome to come over and talk about it. With new-found treasures in their pockets, the toothless twosome raced home to show their friends their unexpected booty. Their little friends cheered loudly at the sight of the boy’s riches. Even their dad came out to see what the hubbub was all about.
The big financial deal now settled, Bill sat back in his recliner and sighed contentedly.
“You’re such a soft touch” I teased. “You’re rather pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”
“As a matter of fact, I am!” he replied. “Listen, I’m all for good deeds but when I was their age, I was out shoveling snow and I know it’s hard work. Those kids did a damn good job. If their dad objects to them getting paid, I’ll just tell him to think of it as a tip for his two fine sons. I can’t believe he’d have a problem with that.”
Well, it came as no big surprise when the twins soon returned and began shoveling the snow off our driveway – and this time they had reinforcements. Their momma didn’t raise no dummies! You haven’t lived until you’ve seen five six-year-olds shoveling one driveway like their little lives depended on it.
“Better get your wallet out, Rockefeller. They’re back and they brought company” I laughed.
Bill may have unwittingly created a couple of monsters; during the spring the twins started going door-to-door pulling a wagon behind them. They were selling rocks! I’m reasonably certain their parents did not give permission for their budding business venture because it ended as abruptly as it started. Too bad; I’m sure they had the rock-selling market cornered. Very entrepreneurial kids; even Warren Buffett had to start somewhere!
Well, kind of a pity when you think about it. The boys scrubbed those rocks until they glistened in the sparkling sunlight. They really were impressive-looking rocks – there’s no denying that – but they were still just rocks, not exactly a priceless commodity.
Bill bought two. He’s such a soft touch.
NAR © 2023
The Elephant's Trunk 