Short Story, Wordle

The Family Way

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.

Continue reading “The Family Way”
Longer Stories, Scary Story

Caliban O’Doole

Originally written in 2022, this is my take
on a beloved fairy tale by the Brothers Grimm.

Continue reading “Caliban O’Doole”
Short Story

The Arrangement

Written for Sadje’s What Do You See #309.
Here’s where the photo prompt took me.

Continue reading “The Arrangement”
Short Story

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.

Continue reading “First Light Of Dawn”
Flash, Mini Story

Aw, Shucks!

Written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt
#434
where we’re asked to be creative in exactly
77 words using the word β€˜woebegone’. Also for
Sue & Gerry’s Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge
where the prompt word is β€˜imagine’’ and Fandango’s FOWC

using the word ‘weed’. Here’s where the three prompts took me.

Continue reading “Aw, Shucks!”
Music Blog, Musing

Memories and Inspirations

Written for Jim’s Thursday Inspiration #278 –
β€˜Lonely People.’
Here’s my spin on things.

Continue reading “Memories and Inspirations”
Flash, Very Short Story

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.

Continue reading “Losing It”
Music Blog

Presenting the Fabulous Ronettes

Written for the April 27 edition
of Jim Adams’ Song Lyric Sunday.
Here’s what I have to say. 

Continue reading “Presenting the Fabulous Ronettes”
Short Story

Muted Moments

Written for Muse On Monday,
where the theme is β€˜lost in a fog’.
Also for Sadje’s β€œWhat Do You See?” –
#284
and the two corresponding photo
prompts shown below. This is my story.

Continue reading “Muted Moments”
Short 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.

Continue reading “The Facade”
Shadorma

In My Life

Written for Tanka Tuesday Poetry Challenge,
Specific Form 11/19/24
. My theme is β€˜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).

Continue reading “In My Life”
Short Story

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.

Continue reading “A Sudden Slip Of The Tongue”
Story

I Gemelli

Gemelli pasta. Gemelli is the Italian word for ‘twins’

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!

My cousin Franco and me

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.

Me (L) and Debby on Halloween

At the wedding.

Two brunettes with summer tans.

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

My sister Rosemarie and me

….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 Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NARΒ©2017-present.

Short Story

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 man’s traps, but the most delectable meals for this ancient hermit were plump little boys and girls lost in the woods – 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) – 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. Collingwood’s perfectly-cooked juicy and tender turkey, the roasted chestnuts were the highlight of their meal, making Ethan and Penelope’s 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 … something that would surely disappoint their mother … but Ethan, being a bright boy a whole year older than his sister, had an idea which he proposed to Penelope: β€œLet’s 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.”

Penelope sprang to her feet, cheered on by Ethan’s 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 β€œDon’t 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.”

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 Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NARΒ©2017-present.

Short Story

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.

Β© Ayr/Gray

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 …. second pew directly off the center aisle. I clutched my husband’s 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 husband’s 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 brother’s 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 β€œHow Can You Mend A Broken Heart”

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. NARΒ©2017-present.

Uncategorized

THE BIG “C”

β€œPapers! Not one, not two but three papers all due on Monday!” exclaimed Charlie in exasperation. β€œOne on the assassination of JFK, another on the Scopes Trial and…..”  

β€œLet me guess” interrupted Charlie’s sister Erica. β€œA 1,000 word book report on β€˜To Kill a Mockingbird’.” 

β€œHow could you possibly know that?!” questioned a puzzled Charlie. β€œYou must be psychic!”  

Erica laughed. β€œHardly! Mr. Cavanaugh hasn’t changed his assignments in years. I bet he still says the same thing.”  

Brother and sister looked at each other trying not to laugh as they simultaneously did their best Mr. Cavanaugh impersonations – β€œRemember class, the quantity of your work is second only to the quality!”   

Erica and Charlie cracked up laughing. 

β€œWell, kiddo, good thing our folks are at the cabin this weekend and I’m going to Six Flags with Kate. You’ll have plenty of peace and quiet to get all your work done. Good luck, bro!” Erica laughed as she waved goodbye to Charlie. 

β€œI’m gonna need it!” he groaned. “My grades haven’t 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.

β€œHmm … I wonder?” Charlie asked himself. He looked through Erica’s binder and found a tab that read ‘ESSAYS‘. 

β€œSweet!” Charlie exclaimed. β€œLet’s see what we have here.” 

With anticipation he ran his finger down the list of Erica’s essays, his eyes almost bugging out of his head when he spotted  β€˜JFK Assassination’. Further down the list he found β€˜The Scopes Trial’.

β€œThis is too good to be true!” Charlie exclaimed. β€œTwo out of the three essays I need are here! I’m sure Erica’s book reports are here, too … fingers crossed.” 

Sure enough Charlie found another label which read β€˜BOOK REPORTS’. Pouring over the titles, he shouted β€œBingo! There you are! β€˜To Kill A Mockingbird’. Three for three!” 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 wouldn’t look identical to Erica’s. 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 

β€œDone!” 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 Erica’s reports. All Erica’s papers were marked with a big red β€˜F’; his were marked β€˜CF’

β€œObviously 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€˜C’ for β€˜Cheating’ and β€˜F’ for β€˜Fail’. Your parents have already been informed of this. I hope you have learned your lesson – the lazy student will cheat and malinger and by doing so will always fail.”

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.

β€œNo 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/
Uncategorized

JUST AN ORDINARY SUNDAY

β€œEavesdropper! Go away, Cathy, and stop being so nosy!” 

β€œI’m not an eavesdropper, Susan! I was just walking down the hall. Besides, you’re not my boss!” 

β€œDon’t make me come up there, girls! What’s going on?” shouted Cathy and Susan’s mother Evelyn. 

The girls stomped down the stairs, both yelling at the same time. 

β€œQUIET!” They took one look at their mother’s face and immediately stopped talking. β€œThat’s better! Now, one at a time tell me what happened. Cathy, you first.” 

β€œWhy does she get to go first?” whined Susan.

β€œBecause I said so” sneered Evelyn. β€œI’m tired of you girls arguing all the time. Start talking Cathy.” 

β€œI was on the phone talking to Marcy about Rabelais and I saw Susan listening at my door .. as usual.” 

β€œAbout him .. your French boyfriend” teased Susan, making goo-goo eyes and kissing noises. 

β€œExcuse me?” Evelyn asked sarcastically. β€œWhat’s all this about a French boyfriend?” 

β€œIt’s true”, replied Susan. β€œI heard her talking about him .. how he’s smart and funny, he’s a writer and a doctor. He must be ancient .. like 30 or something!” 

β€œNice trap you set for yourself, Susan”, commented Evelyn. β€œFor someone who claims she’s not an eavesdropper, you seem to know an awful lot about your sister’s private conversations.” 

Susan’s face turned bright red in embarrassment and anger and tears welled in her eyes.

β€œBut, mom…..” Susan stammered.

β€œBut nothing, Susan. Be quiet! Cathy, you start explaining just what’s going on and it better be good!” Evelyn demanded. 

β€œMom, there’s no boyfriend. And Susan, you’re such a dummy!” snapped Cathy. β€œRabelais 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, she’s just jealous because you gave me a Princess Phone for Christmas and not her. I am 15, after all.” 

β€œIt’s not fair!” cried Susan. β€œI’m 14 and all I got was a stupid record player!”

β€œThe very same record player you use every day listening to your beloved Beatles?” interjected their dad peeking over his newspaper. β€œAnd if I’m 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.”

β€œWe’re sorry!” the girls sang in unison and ran happily together into the dining room.Β 

β€œHow did you manage that minor miracle?” Evelyn asked her husband.

β€œElementary, my dear. It’s called communicating.”

Is that so? Sounds more like ‘bribery’ to me!”

NAR Β© 2018