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.
Hereβs where the prompt words took me.
Tag: Siblings
Caliban O’Doole
Originally written in 2022, this is my take
on a beloved fairy tale by the Brothers Grimm.
The Arrangement
Written for Sadjeβs What Do You See #309.
Hereβs where the photo prompt took me.
First Light Of Dawn
Written for Muse on Monday where David asks us
to write a story about baking late at night.
Here’s where the prompt took me.
Aw, Shucks!
Written for Sammiβs Weekend Writing Prompt
#434 where weβre asked to be creative in exactly
77 words using the word βwoebegoneβ. Also for
Sue & Gerryβs Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge
where the prompt word is βimagineββ and Fandango’s FOWC
using the word ‘weed’. Hereβs where the three prompts took me.
Memories and Inspirations
Written for Jimβs Thursday Inspiration #278 –
βLonely People.β Hereβs my spin on things.
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.
Presenting the Fabulous Ronettes
Written for the April 27 edition
of Jim Adamsβ Song Lyric Sunday.
Hereβs what I have to say.
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.
The Facade
Written for OLWG #406.
The three prompts are shown below.
Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction;
it is not about me and my husband.
The only parallel is the death of my
husband’s identical twin on April 2, 2024.
This is a look at what might have been.
In My Life
Written for Tanka Tuesday Poetry Challenge,
Specific Form 11/19/24. My theme is βfamilyβ.
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).
A Sudden Slip Of The Tongue
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are
asked to get creative in 250 words or less using
the photo below as inspiration. This is my story.
I Gemelli

Resemblance can be a freaky thing. Supposedly everyone has a doppelgΓ€nger; someone out there is a duplicate of you with your mother’s eyes, your father’s nose and that annoying mole you’ve always wanted to have removed. We might even have several pairs of clones walking around, each totally unaware of the other’s existence.
It’s been said the longer people have a pet, the more they begin to resemble that pet. Dogs have been matched by strangers to their owners time and time again. The same is true for people; have you ever seen a long-married couple who now look like a set of bookends?


I have many relatives in Italy and Sicily; my family has always said one particular cousin and I have looked like each other since birth. We were born days apart and are called “I Gemelli” … “The Twins”. The first time my cousin Franco and I met, we just stared at each other in fascination. I think Franco and I do bear a strong resemblance however his eyes are blue while mine are green and he’s got a lot more facial hair than I do! LOL! And we have the same Sicilian nose!

The other day I wrote about my best friend Debby and how alike we are, not just our personalities but our physical appearance as well. One of my WP friends was quite interested in my story and left several comments and questions. I promised I’d write a little bit more about me and Debby … two unrelated women who could pass for sisters, perhaps twins at times.
I can’t explain how these things happen but events at my son’s wedding a few years ago proved the old saying true: fact is stranger than fiction.
There were a lot people at the wedding … family, friends, coworkers. My sister, Rosemarie, was there as was my friend Debby. The time arrived during the wedding reception for a family photo session. The music was playing, people were dancing and milling about. Janet, the wedding photographer, was scrambling around trying to wrangle immediate family members for photos. Craning her neck for a better look into the crowded room, Janet turned to me in surprise and said, “You’ve been holding out on me!”
I had no idea what Janet was talking about and asked her what she meant. She replied, “I know your husband has a twin brother but I had no idea you have a twin sister!”
This conversation went back and forth for a little while … me trying to convince Janet that I didn’t have a twin sister and Janet insisting I did! Of course, Janet was talking about Debby! I laughed and said to her “I really hate to burst your twin bubble but she’s not my sister; she’s my best friend.” When I spotted Rosemarie on the dance floor, I said to Janet, “See the woman in the cream-colored dress? She’s my sister.” I guess I really couldn’t blame Janet; even my new daughter-in-law’s relatives thought the same thing. To make matters more confusing, Debby and I were wearing the same dress (totally unplanned)! Mine was deep purple while hers was dark blue.
It took a lot of convincing for Janet to finally accept the fact that Debby wasn’t my sister and that Rosemarie was. I guess the idea of two sets of twins in the same room was just too exciting for Janet … a missed photo op! I wonder if the same people who matched the pet owners with their dogs would match me and Debby as sisters?
You be the judge.



Twins? Maybe, maybe not, but the resemblance is strong….

….except for my actual sister! Go figure!
NARΒ©2024
Remember this? Here’s the theme song from The Patty Duke Show called “Identical Cousins”
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.
Donnegan Muldoon
Written for Six Sentence Story where we are encouraged
to write something creative in exactly six sentences,
incorporating the word “hermit”. This is my six.

There was once a very old man who lived deep within the dense dark forest where he ate morels, mushrooms, berries and the little rodents who had the misfortune of getting themselves caught in the very old manβs traps, but the most delectable meals for this ancient hermit were plump little boys and girls lost in the woods β a rare but finger-licking-good scrumptious delight … or so the legend goes.Β
One unseasonably warm and sunny day several years ago in late November, young Ethan Collingwood and his even younger sister Penelope were on a journey, an expedition of sorts – (it was really just an assignment handed down by their mother) β to gather the chestnuts that grew in the woods at the entrance to the dark forest and bring them home for Thanksgiving dinner; the woods were once abundant with huge chestnut trees which were greater than 100 feet tall and more than ten feet wide, with acorn-sized nuts sweet like a carrot when eaten raw and even nuttier with a candied flavor after roasting; beside Mrs. Collingwoodβs perfectly-cooked juicy and tender turkey, the roasted chestnuts were the highlight of their meal, making Ethan and Penelopeβs mouths water at the thought of Thanksgiving dinner just one day away.
With strict orders from their mother not to go too deep into the dark forest, the siblings chatted happily on this warm November morning, baskets dangling from their hands for collecting lovely chestnuts but when they arrived at their destination there were no chestnuts to be found, prompting Ethan to suggest they go a tiny bit further into the forest; prudent Penelope protested but Ethan reassured her that all would be fine and, considering he was a whole year older, Penelope was sure he knew best so she agreed and Ethan was right, for only twenty steps deeper into the woods they found chestnuts covering the ground like a blanket; brother and sister began collecting the delicious nuts, filling their baskets and chattering away as they walked, collecting and eating chestnuts with every step they took and in no time they had gobbled up so many nuts, they grew tired, propped themselves against the mighty trunk of a chestnut tree and quickly fell asleep.
Time went by as time is wont to do, turning the warm day into night with a biting wind which woke the young ones who were disoriented, cold and with baskets only half full β¦ something that would surely disappoint their mother β¦ but Ethan, being a bright boy a whole year older than his sister, had an idea which he proposed to Penelope: βLetβs start to walk back home and fill our baskets with chestnuts along the way which will delight Mother when she sees how many nuts we collected and she will forgive our tardiness.β
Penelope sprang to her feet, cheered on by Ethanβs plan, but as she looked around, she realized she had no idea where they were and burst into tears, causing Ethan to inquire why she was crying; surprised by her response, the boy looked around and saw that they were indeed lost, making Ethan feel like crying himself but he refused to let his sister see his fear; instead, he said βDonβt cry, Penny, for all we need to do is follow the trail of chestnut shells we discarded while eating earlier today and we will find our way home.β
Encouraged by this brilliant idea, the siblings began retracing their steps but when they spotted a tiny ramshackle of a hut hidden among the trees, they knew they had walked in the wrong direction; the children realized this was the home of Donnegan Muldoon, the very old man who lived like a hermit feasting on morels, mushrooms, berries, the little rodents who had the misfortune of getting themselves caught in his traps and plump little boys and girls lost in the woods, and they were sorely frightened, especially now that the moon began creeping out from behind a cloud, casting strange and horrifying shadows wherever the young ones looked, with low hanging branches taking on the appearance of bony arms and fingers ready to snatch them away, and as the crooked limbs inched closer, Ethan and Penelope turned to flee but were stopped dead in their tracks, for looming before them was the menacing figure of Donnegan Muldoon himself, dressed an ancient, threadbare cloak, his long, scraggly grey hair and beard reaching his knees and piercing blue eyes as cold as a tomb staring at the young brother and sister who were too terrified to move or utter a sound.
NARΒ©2024
This is “Bread” from “Hermit Of Mink Swallow” by Todd Rundgren
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.
The Cruelest Joke
Written for The Unicorn Challenge, where we are asked
to write something creative in 250 words or less
by using the photo below for inspiration.
This is my story.

The moment we stepped out of our car, the temperature felt like it dropped twenty degrees and a cold wind whipped my black-stockinged legs. We cringed at the frigid slap in the face and huddled deeper into our jackets as we climbed the steps to the church.
We found the seats reserved for us β¦. second pew directly off the center aisle. I clutched my husbandβs hand and felt his body quiver as he raggedly exhaled, desperately trying not to cry. The tears would come, but on his terms.
The pews on both sides of the church were filled with people celebrating a life and mourning a loss. Everything leading to this moment had been a maelstrom of emotions; there are very few things that shake us to our core like a sudden death.
A man appeared at our pew; I recognized him as the manager of the funeral home. He spoke softly to my husband and together they started to walk to the back of the church. I looked up at my husbandβs face and he gave me a sad smile.
There was a heavy silence in the church, mourners sitting side-by-side lost in a fog of grief. Had someone played us the cruelest joke?
As one, the pallbearers heaved the casket onto their shoulders and the organ began to play. That’s when I saw my husband walking behind his brotherβs coffin, our widowed sister-in-law on his arm, and there were tears.
Now we will try to move forward.
NARΒ©2024
250 Words

This is Al Green with βHow Can You Mend A Broken Heartβ
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.
THE BIG “C”

βPapers! Not one, not two but three papers all due on Monday!β exclaimed Charlie in exasperation. βOne on the assassination of JFK, another on the Scopes Trial and…..β
βLet me guessβ interrupted Charlieβs sister Erica. βA 1,000 word book report on βTo Kill a Mockingbirdβ.β
βHow could you possibly know that?!β questioned a puzzled Charlie. βYou must be psychic!β
Erica laughed. βHardly! Mr. Cavanaugh hasnβt changed his assignments in years. I bet he still says the same thing.β
Brother and sister looked at each other trying not to laugh as they simultaneously did their best Mr. Cavanaugh impersonations β βRemember class, the quantity of your work is second only to the quality!β
Erica and Charlie cracked up laughing.
βWell, kiddo, good thing our folks are at the cabin this weekend and Iβm going to Six Flags with Kate. You’ll have plenty of peace and quiet to get all your work done. Good luck, bro!β Erica laughed as she waved goodbye to Charlie.
βIβm gonna need it!” he groaned. “My grades havenβt been very good lately.”
Charlie went to the den where he and Erica always did their homework. First he read his emails, then went on Facebook, YouTube and TikTok. Bored, Charlie started looking through the drawers of the desk. There were recipes, catalogs, magazines and at the bottom of the pile was a binder marked “My Junior Year” in Erica’s handwriting.
βHmm … I wonder?β Charlie asked himself. He looked through Erica’s binder and found a tab that read ‘ESSAYS‘.
βSweet!β Charlie exclaimed. βLetβs see what we have here.β
With anticipation he ran his finger down the list of Ericaβs essays, his eyes almost bugging out of his head when he spotted βJFK Assassinationβ. Further down the list he found βThe Scopes Trialβ.
βThis is too good to be true!β Charlie exclaimed. βTwo out of the three essays I need are here! I’m sure Ericaβs book reports are here, too … fingers crossed.β
Sure enough Charlie found another label which read βBOOK REPORTSβ. Pouring over the titles, he shouted βBingo! There you are! βTo Kill A Mockingbirdβ. Three for three!β This was an incredible find. Charlie wondered if Erica even remembered her binder was there.
Taking all three of Erica’s assignments, Charlie sat at the computer station where he scanned and forwarded all the papers to himself. He then changed the dates, margins and fonts so his work wouldnβt look identical to Ericaβs. Finally, changing her name to his, he printed out the papers, returned the originals to the binder and shoved it back under the pile.Β
βDone!β he crowed, feeling quite pleased with himself. “And I didn’t have to do any work!“
Charlie spent the rest of the weekend hanging out with his friends and watching movies on Netflix. On Monday he confidently turned in his assignments. On Friday Mr. Cavanaugh handed Charlie a large folder. To his shock inside were his reports as well as copies of Ericaβs reports. All Ericaβs papers were marked with a big red βFβ; his were marked βCFβ.
βObviously you had no idea that I save all my students work. You also did not know that Erica failed her assignments” Mr. Cavanaugh reprimanded Charlie. “By copying her work you not only cheated, you failed. Therefore, I’ve given you the grade of ‘CF’ β βCβ for βCheatingβ and βFβ for βFailβ. Your parents have already been informed of this. I hope you have learned your lesson β the lazy student will cheat and malinger and by doing so will always fail.β
Charlie felt sick to his stomach; he never saw this coming. How could he have been so stupid? He didn’t notice that none of Erica’s papers were graded; they were just copies of her work and not the actual reports she handed in. Charlie knew his parents were going to be furious with him. It was bad enough that Erica failed; he cheated and failed.
βNo point in putting off the inevitable any longer. Time to go home and face the consequences” Charlie thought as he dejectedly walked out of the classroom.
Mr. Cavanaugh shook his head. “There’s one every year. When will they ever learn?”
NAR Β© 2019
| Reposted for Fandango’s #FOWC http://fivedotoh.com/2023/01/12/fowc-with-fandango-malinger/ |
JUST AN ORDINARY SUNDAY

βEavesdropper! Go away, Cathy, and stop being so nosy!β
βIβm not an eavesdropper, Susan! I was just walking down the hall. Besides, youβre not my boss!β
βDonβt make me come up there, girls! Whatβs going on?β shouted Cathy and Susanβs mother Evelyn.
The girls stomped down the stairs, both yelling at the same time.
βQUIET!β They took one look at their motherβs face and immediately stopped talking. βThatβs better! Now, one at a time tell me what happened. Cathy, you first.β
βWhy does she get to go first?β whined Susan.
βBecause I said soβ sneered Evelyn. βIβm tired of you girls arguing all the time. Start talking Cathy.β
βI was on the phone talking to Marcy about Rabelais and I saw Susan listening at my door .. as usual.β
βAbout him .. your French boyfriendβ teased Susan, making goo-goo eyes and kissing noises.
βExcuse me?β Evelyn asked sarcastically. βWhatβs all this about a French boyfriend?β
βItβs trueβ, replied Susan. βI heard her talking about him .. how heβs smart and funny, heβs a writer and a doctor. He must be ancient .. like 30 or something!β
βNice trap you set for yourself, Susanβ, commented Evelyn. βFor someone who claims sheβs not an eavesdropper, you seem to know an awful lot about your sisterβs private conversations.β
Susanβs face turned bright red in embarrassment and anger and tears welled in her eyes.
βBut, momβ¦..β Susan stammered.
βBut nothing, Susan. Be quiet! Cathy, you start explaining just whatβs going on and it better be good!β Evelyn demanded.
βMom, thereβs no boyfriend. And Susan, youβre such a dummy!β snapped Cathy. βRabelais lived during the French Renaissance! Do you even know how long ago that was? Marcy and I were discussing our book reports about him. Mom, sheβs just jealous because you gave me a Princess Phone for Christmas and not her. I am 15, after all.β
βItβs not fair!β cried Susan. βIβm 14 and all I got was a stupid record player!β
βThe very same record player you use every day listening to your beloved Beatles?βΒ interjected their dad peeking over his newspaper. βAnd if Iβm not mistaken, the famous foursome are appearing on the Ed Sullivan Show tonight. Now .. if you think there’s even the slightest chance you’re going to watch that show then you better stop arguing, apologize and help your mother set the table for dinner.”
βWeβre sorry!βΒ the girls sang in unison and ran happily together into the dining room.Β
βHow did you manage that minor miracle?β Evelyn asked her husband.
βElementary, my dear. Itβs called communicating.”
“Is that so? Sounds more like ‘bribery’ to me!”
NAR Β© 2018