Written for dVerse Prosery – “Winter Lull” – hosted by Merril who has asked us to write a 144-word piece of prose, including the poetic verse shown below. This is my response.
“It all belies our existence; we wait, and are still denied.” from “Winter-Lull”by D.H. Lawrence
Written for dVerse MTB: Poems of Questions hosted by Grace. The challenge is to write a poem built around questions that remain unanswered. Here is my response.
Written for Weekend Writing Prompt where Sammi asks us to get creative in exactly 26 words using the word ‘mood’. Here’s where the prompt word took me.
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 final artist for July and his song.
I was waiting outside Luca’s Restaurant for my guy to show up with that lovely little glassine envelope of blow. He was running late and I was freezing my ass off, chainsmoking. Even at this hour the place was busy.
A cozy-looking niche in the wall beckoned me; I scooted over and huddled there to keep warm. I was agitated, my toes tap-dancing inside my boots. It had been several hours since my last hit and I couldn’t collect my scattered thoughts.
Shoving my hands into my pockets to stay warm, I immediately came in contact with a stubby vial; a little spoon dangled from a delicate chain … a very clever design … although I must admit the one with the miniature spoon neatly built into the inside bottom of the screw-on cap was pure genius. This was a nice surprise! I had changed jackets the other day and didn’t remember it was there.
Elated, I wrapped my fingers around the bottle, smiling at the feel of the all-too-familiar smooth glass. I removed the vial from my pocket; it was difficult to see but even in the darkness I knew it was empty. Crap!
Where the hell was my guy?
As if summoning a genie, he appeared in the glow emanating from the light above Luca’s doorway. I began to stand when piercing sounds of squealing tires stopped me. Three unmarked cars pulled up and the feds jumped out, surrounding my guy. Busted!
Sammi at Weekend Writing Prompt is challenging us with the word “note”; in exactly 72 words, this is my response. 🍸
After thirty minutes and two martinis I began feeling paranoid. It was painfully obvious, at least to me, that everyone who saw me sitting by the bar thought I was either an elegant call girl just past her prime or a lonesome, tedious housewife who had been stood up.
I became aware of someone approaching. I looked up expectantly, smiling; it was just the concierge. Whispering discreetly, he handed me a note.
Today’s burning question from Cyranny is: “What’s one odd thing about yourself that you would never want to change?”
Perhaps it’s not so terribly odd but for me it is a no-brainer: Promptness, as in I am never late … never; there’s no good excuse or acceptable justification to make anyone wait for me because in the scheme of things, I am just not that important.
I have a family member who is consistently late and by consistently I mean late for everything, even her daughter’s recent wedding (how is something like that even possible?); we like to joke around that she’s going to be late for her own funeral but all the joking in the world doesn’t erase how irritating it is to have to wait for her every single time and it’s gotten to the point that we have to fib a little and give her a 20 minute earlier meeting time knowing she’ll be 20 minutes late but will actually show up on time … lol … see how that works?
Sure, shit happens, like being unable to control the weather or traffic; maybe we can’t control it but we can anticipate it by checking our weather apps and bringing along a freaking umbrella or listening to the traffic report and leaving the house 15 to 20 minutes earlier than the other guy … the guy who doesn’t care if he shows up late and makes people wait.
I’d rather be half an hour early for my doctor appointment than arrive 5 minutes late; at least I can get myself a cup of coffee, listen to the radio and relax in my car until it’s time to go in, even though chances are excellent the doctor will be running late!
In that case I am faced with the one thing I dislike more than being late and that, my friends, is called “The HurryUp And Wait Syndrome”; man oh man, does that ever burn my biscuits – like an old Sunbeam Toaster Oven stuck at 475º!