Written for Gerry & Sue’s Weekly Prompts
Wednesday Challenge (‘screechy’).
This is my response.
Tag: Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge
Supergirl
Written for Sue & Gerry’s Weekly Prompts
Weekend Challenge (‘forward’) and for
Gerry & Sue’s Weekly Prompts Wednesday
Challenge (‘ragged’). This is my response.
Date Night
Written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt #407
using the word ‘mandate’, Gerry & Sue’s Weekly
Prompts Wednesday Challenge (‘stodgy’), and
Sue & Gerry’s Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge
(‘dainty’). In 71 words exactly, this is my little story.
The Last Violin
Written for Sue & Gerry’s Weekly Prompts
Weekend Challenge (important) and for
Gerry & Sue’s Weekly Prompts Wednesday
Challenge (fragile). This is my response,
originally written in 2017, my 1st year blogging.
So Sue Me!
Written for Esther’s “Can You Tell A Story In…..?
– #275” exactly 46 words using the five required
prompt words: ‘deadbeat’, ‘cat’, ‘fiesta’ ‘septic’ and
‘battery’, for Sue & Gerry’s Weekly Prompts –
The One Day Prompt (10) and for Gerry & Sue’s
Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – ‘gawking’.
This is my 46 word very short story.
That Inner Glow
Written for Sue & Gerry’s Weekly Prompts
Weekend Challenge and the word “absence”
and for Gerry & Sue’s Weekly Prompts Wednesday
Challenge and the word “embellishment.
This is my response.
Between Friends
Written for Esther’s Writing Prompts-50
with the prompt word “secrets” and
Gerry & Sue’s Weekly Prompts Wednesday
Challenge with the prompt word “whimsical”.
This is my story.
Earthman
Written for Gerry & Sue’s Weekly Prompts
Wednesday Challenge and the word “growth”
and for Sue & Gerry’s Weekly Prompts February
Colour Challenge and the word “green”.
This is my response.
Hook, Line and Sinker
Written for Gerry C & Sue W’s Weekly Prompts
Wednesday Challenge . The prompt word this
week is “socks” and this is my response.
Who Could Ask For More
This week at Writing Prompts, Esther has teased us
with the word ‘gifts’. Meanwhile, Gerry and Sue
at Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge have
offered up the word ‘decorations’. This is my story.
Paternal Pardon
Written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt #391
incorporating the word “vicinity” in exactly 50 words.
Also for FOWC – ‘traditional’, FOWC – ‘doubt’ and
Gerry C & Sue W’s Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge
– ‘nurturing’. In exactly 50 words, this is my flash.
Slim Pickings
Written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt #389
incorporating the word “hunter” in exactly 99 words.
Also responding to Gerry & Sue’s Weekly Prompts
Wednesday Challenge (“duplicity”) and Sue & Gerry’s
Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge (“method”).
For further inspiration, I am using one of the amazing
graphic prompts created by Kevin at No Theme Thursday.
Here is my 99 word flash.
Día de los Muertos ~ A Haibun
This week the three prompts from aooga at OLWG #389 are
1) thirsty souls, 2) police dog, and 3) Armando’s Market,
to be used as we like …. as is, as an inspiration or not at all.
Also, Gerry C & Sue W ask us to incorporate the word “eerie”
in their Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge. And finally,
I have used one of Kevin’s brilliant images from No Theme Thursday
as the inspiration for my post today. Here is my haibun.
The Letter
Written for Kevin’s No Theme Thursday 10.24.24,
Fandango’s Story Starter #172 (#FSS), Eugi’s
Moonwashed Weekly Prompt (pretend), and
Gerry C & Sue W’s Weekly Prompts Wednesday
Challenge (fascination). This is my story.
Dear Ryan
Written for Kevin’s No Theme Thursday 10.17.14 photo prompt,
Sammi’s 94 word Weekend Writing Prompt #386,
Sue & Gerry’s Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge
and Gerry & Sue’s Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge.
Responses must be exactly 94 words (for Sammi), including
‘teach’, ‘ahead’ and ‘simplicity’. Here’s my little story.
Doris sat in the kitchen proofreading her letter.
Dear Ryan Seacrest –
Imagine my surprise when I tuned into “Wheel of Fortune” and discovered you’re the new host!
Where the fuck is Pat Sajak? He could teach you a few things about show business! You have a nice smile and might have a future ahead in commercials.
You’re a cutie-pie; I wouldn’t mind a roll in the hay with you, that’s for damn sure. Next time you’re in Wichita, stop by Doris’ Donuts – simplicity at its tastiest!
I’ll keep the light on.
Fondly, Doris Lipsmacker
NAR©2024
94 Words
From 1952, this is “Wheel of Fortune” by Kay Starr
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.
Let It Out
Written for Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge
and Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge incorporating
the words ‘leaves’ and ‘judge’. This is my story.
It’s been 16 years but I can remember everything about that night.
We were out to dinner with our friends Lily & Mac and Karen & Rob. I had been feeling a little anxious the whole day but figured I’d be fine at dinner – after all, these were people I knew and loved and who knew and loved me. Sitting at the table I was uneasy but hoped the feeling would subside.
It didn’t. It continued to build as I sat surrounded by a room full of seemingly stress-free people laughing and enjoying themselves while I was ready to bolt. I was with friends I’ve known for years and I was freaking out, convinced everyone knew something was wrong.
There I was, not only stressing over life in general but stressing over the fact that I was stressing and everyone knew it and they were just waiting for me to explode. I figured I had four choices: I could fake it and try to pretend everything was ok; have a meltdown, which would make us all uncomfortable and solve nothing; I could say I had a headache and go home – after all, everyone leaves their table for one reason or another; or I could face the truth and tell my friends how I was feeling. I chose the last approach. Apprehensively, not knowing how anyone would react, I told my friends I was having a panic attack.
No one had a clue.
What happened next was incredible. By admitting the truth, revealing my fear and vulnerability, everyone embraced me (not physically, of course – that would have been weird) but they all let me know it was ok. Whatever I wanted to do was ok. And more important than anything else, they did not judge me.
I chose to stay. Immediately, Karen reached into her purse, handed me the business card of her psychologist and said “Call her”. Lily then told me she also went to the same psychologist and quietly poured out her heart to me, unburdening herself while simultaneously letting me know I wasn’t alone. I was so engrossed in what Lily was telling me, I didn’t even realize my anxiety had passed. I had eaten my dinner and people were ordering dessert. The evening actually wasn’t a disaster.
The next day Lily called to check on me. I’ll never forget what she said: “You know, I was sitting next to you and I didn’t notice anything wrong. You looked perfectly fine and if you hadn’t said anything we never would have known.”
That was amazing to me! No one noticed the ticking time bomb at the table.
What a huge eye-opener that was. It made me realize that how I perceive myself is not necessarily how others perceive me. Being stoic and trying to hide my anxiety isn’t helpful; in fact, it could make things worse. Opening myself up and exposing my vulnerability showed me it’s ok to let others know “Hey, I’m freaking out right now and I need help.”
I learned a valuable life lesson that night: Let it out and let someone in.
NAR©2024
This is “Under Pressure” featuring Queen, Annie Lennox and David Bowie
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.
Crop Invaders: A Haibun
Written for Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge and
Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge where the
required words are “wrong” and “hoarding”. This is my haibun.
The exact year escapes me but it was a long time ago, to be sure. It was the summer we returned from vacation to find our tomatoes had ripened into gorgeous red orbs ready for eating. I could practically smell that grassy-green, spicy-sweet summery aroma. But something seemed wrong, off somehow. I felt like I was not alone in my garden, like I was being watched. Taking a closer look, I discovered disturbingly large caterpillars feasting on our lovely harvest. The bloated green creatures blended in so well with the underside of the leaves, it took a few seconds to register why our crop was full of gaping holes. Probing, boring, ravaging, gorging, hoarding. No tomato was salvaged that summer. Not one. That was the year I stopped planting tomatoes.
garden interlopers
devastation
signaling summer’s end
NAR©2024
This is “End of Summer” featuring Katie Melua and L.U.C. from The Peasants soundtrack
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.
Brace Yourself
Written for Weekend Writing Prompt #375,
Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge and
Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge,
31 words exactly using the three prompt words
of defray, brown and rigid. Here is my flash.
Mary went rigid and her soft brown eyes filled with tears when she saw the orthodontist’s bill. With no dental insurance, she’d have to find some way to defray the expense.
NAR©2024
31 Words
https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2024/08/03/weekend-writing-prompt-375-defray/
This is “Easy Money” by Billy Joel
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.
A Get-Away
Written for Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge (‘madness’)
and Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge (‘magic’).
This is my response to those challenges.
It had been quite a long while since Rob and I had a chance to take a vacation, to escape the madness of the city to someplace remote and peaceful. Skiing sounded like a good idea, a break after the unbearably hot summer. All we wanted was a little get-away to relax and unwind.
Our Google search brought us to a place called Marmot Basin located in Jasper, an alpine town in Canada’s Alberta province. The photos were breathtaking; the area was one of the most natural and unsoiled landscapes we’d ever seen. The site said Jasper was “an authentic mountain community that managed to retain a cozy, warm and ‘real’ atmosphere with a laid-back vibe”. It was also one of North America’s largest protected nature preserves. It would be great to get lost for a few days, forget about our hectic lives.
The flight to Jasper was interminable; eight hours with a connection in Denver. The time change did a number on us physically but our welcoming and romantic chateau more than made up for the tedious travel. It was rustic yet charming with beamed ceilings, comfy furniture and a huge fireplace. We spent our first night snuggled up in bed.
Right after breakfast the next morning we set out for a day of skiing. Hoping to find a secluded trail, we consulted one of the guides who gave us a couple of suggestions. We headed out, delighted to see a pristine layer of powdery snow. Looking around we realized we were the only people in the area and there was nothing in sight except evergreens on the hillside.
We started off slowly then gradually picked up speed; the conditions were perfect. About twenty minutes into our run we came upon a split in the trail. Taking a break, Rob leaned against a tree and consulted a map, deciding which way we should go. Suddenly we felt movement beneath our feet and the ground gave way in what sounded like a whispering waterfall. In an instant we were tumbling down, enveloped by cascades of snow.
It seemed like an eternity before I came to a stop. I was unable to move but realized I was still clutching my pole. Somehow I managed to wrangle my arm free from under my body and began whacking the snow above me. I didn’t know if I was under three feet of snow or thirty; I had to try to free myself. Snow kept falling on me as I hacked away. Slowly my grave became brighter and I realized a magic sliver of sunlight was peeking through. I heaved myself into an upright position and broke through the snow.
It was a struggle but I managed to climb out and started yelling for Rob. All I heard was my echo; everything was deathly silent. I found my phone in the inside pocket of my ski suit and dialed Rob’s number hoping to hear his phone ring; I heard nothing. Checking my phone I saw there was no cell service in the area; I couldn’t even call for help. Gingerly I walked around a bit, all too aware the ground could give way at any moment. My only hope was to try to find help.
I must have walked for miles; the sun had set and I found myself surrounded by trees. I had no idea where I was. Exhausted, I fell to my knees, sobbing. If Rob was still buried in the snow there was no chance of finding him alive.
Through my tears I thought I saw a glimmer of light. I squinted and could barely make out the shape of a cabin in the woods. Was it real or magic? Was I hallucinating? I had to keep moving or I would surely die during the frigid night. Slowly I got to my feet and walked toward the light, praying it was not an illusion. I was so very tired; if only I could close my eyes just take a little rest before I continued. It was so bitterly cold.
NAR © 2024
This is “Snowblind” by Styx
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.
Let In Calm: Dectina Refrain and Haiku
Written for Moonwashed Weekly Prompt (“hope for”)
and Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge (“impatience).
Here is my Dectina Refrain followed by a Haiku.
Fret,
Worry,
Useless fears
Swirl in our brains
Dance of impatience
When all we should hope for
Is a peaceful mind and heart
Every day is its own journey
Our destination is preordained
Fret, worry, useless fears swirl in our brains
The journey is short
No time for useless worry
Be still, let in calm
NAR©2024
Dectina Refrain:
This refrain is written as follows:
1st line – 1 syllable, 2nd line – 2 syllables
3rd line – 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines;
the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines
as one stand-alone line.
This is the extraordinary “Bridge Over Troubled Water” by Simon and Garfunkel
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.
Love Happens
Written for Weekend Writing Prompt #367 using the required
word “party” in exactly 88 words; Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge,
with the required word “peak” and Weekly Prompts Wednesday
Challenge using the required word “sunset“. Here’s my flash.
Yesterday was our anniversary, wed 52 years. No party necessary.
None of our friends who married around the same time are still together. How sad is that?
People have asked “What’s the secret to a long and happy marriage?” For us it’s pretty simple: respect, communication, honesty, having a sense of humor.
When you combine those ingredients, love happens. You can manage the lows and celebrate the peaks, watch the dawns and the sunsets, walk hand-in-hand through the ordinary and make it extraordinary.
That’s us. Uncomplicated. Happy together.
NAR©2024
88 Words
This is “Happy Together” by the Turtles.
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.
Get A Grip: An Ovi Peace Rap
Written for Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – ‘safety’
and Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge – ‘blue’. Here’s my piece.
What the hell, are you nuts
You trying to prove you got guts
Spare me the ifs, ands or buts
This is a big mistake, dude
Listen man, I’m doing fine
I’m in the zone, behind the line
My head is clear, my thoughts are mine
Just go somewhere and chill
You ain’t got a safety net
Is this some sort of crazy bet
You’re gonna kill yourself yet
You got a wife and kid at home
Blue skies, nothing is amiss
Clouds float by like lazy fish
Believe me, I have no death wish
I’ve never felt so free
You may think you got a grip
All it takes is one small slip
A twitchy little fingertip
You won’t survive the fall
This world is one insane rat race
We should respect our brother’s space
And live our days in peace and grace
It could be as simple as that
NAR©2024
This is “Mr. Blue Sky” by ELO
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.
Fanning The Flames
Written for Weekend Writing Prompt #365
and Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge.
Our write must be 61 words exactly and include
the words ‘pause’ and ‘heroism’. Here’s my flash.
Cambridge, England
This weekend in the US we pause to honor all Americans who died in any war while serving in the US Armed Forces.
There have been 108 wars involving the US, including 11 major wars, 4 ongoing. That’s a lot of fighting, bloodshed, death, heroism.
If war is hell, why do we keep fanning the flames? When will we ever learn?
NAR©2024
61 words
This is “Where Have All The Flowers Gone” by the Kingston Trio
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.
Boys Will Be Boys
Written for Stream of Consciousness – “What’s that smell?”,
Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – “humility” and
Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – “departure”.
Growing up, it was just me and my sister – two girls doing girl things. And while we weren’t always best of friends, it was just the two of us. It wasn’t my fault that my mother went into labor smack in the middle of my sister’s 4th birthday party; after making a hasty departure for the hospital, my mother arrived just in time for me to be born …. on my sister’s birthday …. and she’s never really forgiven me. I mean, she says she has but deep down there’s resentment. But I digress.
Bitterness for being born on her birthday aside, we managed to get along ok. And we both had a bunch of little girlfriends who’d come over the house to play and swim in our pool. There’s a definite advantage to having the only pool on the block – even if it was inflatable and barely three feet deep. We always had lots of friends over but there were never any boys around and, if an interloper did show up, he was quickly shown the way out before he had a chance to dip his you-know-what in our pool!
For the first six years of my life, I had very little contact with boys .… except for my cousins and they didn’t count. In elementary school boys were just tolerated; they were looked upon as excess baggage. Of course, that all changed when I hit my teen years and realized boys had potential. I had a couple of crushes early on but nothing earth-shattering. Then, at the ripe old age of 17, I went on a blind date with a guy named Bill and together we learned all about boys and girls, how they were so wondrously different and incredibly well-made for each other. I was stunned by how much I didn’t know about boys.
So, wouldn’t you just know it! God, in his infinite humorous nature, decided to bless me with only boy babies. All those years of playing with my baby girl dolls, changing their diapers fashioned from paper napkins, powdering their petite girlie bottoms, all that didn’t come close to what these boys were packing! It didn’t matter how well I knew Bill’s anatomy; he didn’t wear a diaper and I had never changed one …. at least not a boy’s. Talk about a rude awakening!
Let me just explain something very quickly here. When infant girls are getting their diapers changed, sometimes they pee but it’s a dainty little trickle that gently disappears into the absorbent pad under them. When infant boys are getting their diapers changed, parents put on a hazmat suit because that nozzle has a mind of its own and it is gonna spray wherever it wants.
Oh sure, parents can buy little wee-wee teepees to hold over the wee-wee while their baby boy giggles at them, but most times that thing is flying around like an errant garden hose and the pee goes everywhere. And, of course, that’s where men first learn to pee with no hands – yawning and stretching and placing their hands behind their heads in a very satisfied “look-what-I-can-do” sort of way. Usually in those situations, there will be spillage. I have found, for the most part, the male species is not very discriminating and is quite happy to just “hit something“.
Which brings me to the heart of this story.
I love my boys and, in all humility, Bill and I did a good job raising them. BUT, nature will take its course no matter what we do. And let me tell you, there is nothing …. and I mean NOTHING …. like the overwhelming musky, barn-like odor that punches you in the face when you open the door to a boy’s bedroom. For the love of all things holy, what is going on in there? How is it possible for boys …. little or big …. to ravage so many briefs, boxers or tighty-whities in one day, not to mention the now-fossilized face cloths (and sometimes my good hand towels)?
We’re all adults here and you know exactly what I’m talking about.
Well, I finally reached the end of my rope. It became unbearable for me to do my teen sons’ laundry, let alone keep up with it, so I threw down the gauntlet. I led the boys to the laundry room where I proceeded to write on my washing machine with a Sharpie. In all the corresponding receptacles were the words “DETERGENT GOES HERE.” “BLEACH GOES HERE.” “SOFTENER GOES HERE.” I’m sure they didn’t believe me when I said I was done doing their wash. After two weeks of their laundry piling up and them running out of clean clothes and their sheets desperate enough to literally walk off the bed and leap into the washing machine, they finally got the message!
As the old saying goes, boys will be boys, and I never had a problem with what was going on in my sons’ bedrooms …. within reason; if I thought something dangerous was happening, I’d be in there in a flash. I’d just had enough of cleaning up their messes. Now they’re grown men, good men, married with children, and they get to deal with their own kids’ smells, sprays, spills and secretions.
And when I see them lugging a basketful of laundry to their washing machines, I chuckle and know I did them a huge favor.
NAR©2024
One of my readers once commented that I have a song for every story. Well, who am I to argue?
From the Broadway show/movie Hair, this is “Sodomy”.
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.
Moonspell: A Haibun
Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge #513,
Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge (orange), Moonwashed Weekly
Prompt (hazy moon) & Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge (regret)
I was lost, a bit frightened and filled with regret for not making a note of the address. A hazy moon began to make her appearance in the evening sky, leaving the tiny Palermo street awash in a warm orange glow. Squinting in the darkness, I saw what appeared to be a tunnel at the end of the street; there was no way I was going to walk into the black unknown. Slowly I inched closer and discovered the tunnel was actually a stairway. Just as I quickened my pace, an arm shot out of a hidden doorway and pulled me inside, pinning me against a wall. A deep voice I knew intimately whispered in honeyed Sicilian tones “Picchì ci haiu misu tantu tempu, amuri miu? Ti vogghiu beni!”º Passionate kisses drifted down my neck. Breathless, I murmured “I’m here now, my love. Show me.”
Kiss me now, my love,
In the warm glow of the moon
You possess my heart
NAR©2024
º“What took you so long, my love? I am burning for you.”
This is the Flamingos with “I Only Have Eyes For You”
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. NAR©2017-present.
Tasty Balls
Written for Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – “one day“
and Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – “menu”
“Mohammedan-owned Chinese/Tai/Himalayan/Middle Eastern/Indian Restaurant” – well, you certainly don’t see too many of those in Lancaster, Pennsylvania but there it is right in the heart of the downtown dining district. This meeting of culinary minds is definitely intriguing and what an original and humorous name – ‘Tasty Balls’.
That caught my eye and gave me a good laugh as I read about the new exotic fusion restaurant in the newspaper. I wondered if my wife Judith intentionally left the paper on the kitchen table conveniently opened to the dining section for me to see. Judith has many fine attributes; subtlety is not one of them.
We met soon after I graduated college. I took a year off to backpack my way through Asia and the Middle East. Money was tight so I had to be frugal while traveling; that’s how I learned to find really good food at cheap prices.
One day while trekking through Shanghai, I stopped at a noodle and dumpling place. I was drawn to the sound of feminine laughter coming from the next table. There were two pretty blondes who looked to be around my age; I asked if I could join them and they agreed. Judith and Eunice were cousins from England on holiday. I hit it off quite well with Judith and we agreed to meet the next night for dinner. After that night we knew we wanted to be together and the rest, as they say, is history.
As I continued reading the article, I learned this new restaurant was operated by the same people who managed a nearby tea house called ‘The Barefoot Magpie’ – another place I’d never heard of. How can this be? I’ve lived in Lancaster all my life and thought I knew every place there was to eat. Obviously I haven’t been getting out enough lately.
What’s this? ‘Tasty Balls’ serves only one item: dumplings. What made it so special was the staggering number of varieties of dumplings on the menu. Now I knew without a doubt that Judith left this article here for me to stumble upon; she knows I am the world’s biggest sucker for dumplings!
Well now, let’s see what else the article says: “Extravagantly yet handsomely decorated … moderately priced … perfectly prepared dumplings … culinary delight.” My stomach rumbled and my mouth watered as I read a description of just a tiny sampling of dumplings offered at ‘Tasty Balls’:
- Jiaozi – A Chinese dumpling consisting of delicately sautéed ground meat and chopped vegetables wrapped into a thinly rolled dough-ball which is then fried to a golden brown or gently steamed.
- Xiaolongbao – A Taiwanese delicacy, this steamed dumpling has meat and broth inside. The small, succulent orb is meant to be eaten whole; one bite and the fortunate diner’s mouth is filled with liquid ambrosia.
- Momos – A staple from Tibet and Nepal, these delectable pouches are filled with yak, beef or chicken and have become an obsession with the patrons at ‘Tasty Balls’.
- Shish Barak – Middle Eastern ravioli-like envelopes filled with seasoned lamb, onion and pine nuts, these piquant squares are boiled, baked or fried and served in a warm yogurt sauce with melted mint butter and a garnish of chopped cashew nuts.
- Muthia – This Indian delight consists of chickpea flour, turmeric, chili powder, curry powder and salt bonded together with oil. Once shaped, these fritters can either be fried or steamed, depending on personal preference.
- Luqaimat – Originally from Saudi Arabia, this luscious dessert translates into “small bites”. Found in many Middle Eastern countries, this is a treat of fried dough sweetened with date syrup and garnished with sesame seeds. With a scoop of pistachio ice cream, this is a delightful end to an unforgettable meal.
I suddenly realized the newspaper was wet; either I was salivating over the scrumptious description of dumplings or I was crying tears of joy that this heaven-sent restaurant was now located in little old Lancaster. Oh, what joy, what rapture!
Judith came into the kitchen, took one look at my face and asked “What in the world has come over you?”
Holding up the soggy newspaper I exclaimed “This – as if you didn’t know, you little minx! Tempting me with an article about delectable dumplings. Well, it worked. It’s ‘Tasty Balls’ tonight!”
“Oh, I don’t think so, luv” Judith laughed. “That’s Eunice’s. She must have left it behind when she returned to the UK after her visit. That paper is from Lancaster, England!
If I had a sword I would have fallen on it.
NAR©2024
This is Ronnie Spector with “Tandoori Chicken” written by Phil Spector and George Harrison.
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. NAR©2017-present.
The Playground
Written for Six Sentence Story, incorporating the word “slide”,
Fandango’s Story Starter #141 and four additional word prompts
Allison arrived home to discover, propped up against her front door, a mysterious package addressed to her but with no return address; in these dangerous times, opening a strange package with no identification is a reckless thing to do and Allison isn’t the type to take chances, no matter how curious she was about this unexpected delivery.
Unlocking the front door, Allison gave the package one last glance and went inside but she couldn’t think of anything other than the box on her porch and eventually gave up, heading back out; the more she looked at the box, the more one sticking point nagged at her: the print on the hand-written shipping label looked extremely familiar.
Suddenly, like a bolt out of the blue, Allison realized the handwriting was her father’s; a thousand thoughts flew through her mind as she tried to figure out what he could have sent her, finally coming to the conclusion that her dad must have packed away a few items for her which belonged to her late mother .… items of sentimental value …. before he sold the old family house and settled into a senior living facility.
No longer wary, Allison excitedly picked up the package and brought it into the kitchen where she placed it on the counter and with a knife carefully followed the taped-up folds until she was able to open the box; resting atop the packing material was a small envelope with her name on it written in the same handwriting as the shipping label and inside the envelope was a note which read, “Dear Ali, I remember how much you loved these and I wanted you to have them, maybe one day for your own little girl” ~ Love, Dad.
Puzzlement creased Allison’s forehead as she gently pushed away the bubble wrap to discover one of her favorite toys – a miniature playground set complete with working swings, a seesaw, monkey bars, a slide and sandbox; there was even the little family with their pet dog which she had named Tess.
Now all smiles, Allison carried the pieces into the sunroom and placed them on the side table next to her chair near the window; they looked so happy and gay with the sun shining on them and Allison sighed, not at all surprised to feel a tear running down her cheek.
NAR©2024
This is “Lazy Day” by Spanky and Our Gang
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. NAR©2017-present.
Catch Of The Day
Sammi at Weekend Writing Prompt is challenging us to
get creative with the word “adventure” in exactly 76 words.
This is my response to that word challenge.
You ever have that feeling you get when you meet someone for the first time …. and you know?
That’s what happened to me when I first met Bill …. almost 56 years ago to the day. It was our first date, the dreaded blind date, but we had chemistry and we still do.
Sure, we’ve had our misunderstandings …. who hasn’t? …. but what an adventure our life has been.
He’s the fisherman but I caught a keeper!
NAR©2024
76 Words
These are The Marvelettes and this is “Don’t Mess With Bill”
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. NAR©2017-present.
Just An Average Junkie
Alright, alright, alright!
It’s time once again for a Six Sentence Story,
this time incorporating the word ‘remote’.
Here’s mine, with a few other prompts just for fun.
The reflection of my timeworn face in the bathroom mirror is harrowing, one I still can’t accept is me .… someone who was always strikingly attractive, impeccably dressed with my designer labels neatly tucked away and out of sight; these days I see only one person on a regular basis and he doesn’t give a shit what I look like as long as I have the money to pay him.
There’s that old twitch in my left eye, an unwelcome reminder that a killer headache and nausea are about to overtake me if I don’t eat some Skittles, a much more socially acceptable term than that hushed-up, dirty little name that makes all the so-called ‘well-adjusted’ people cringe as though in the presence of a leper; fucking hypocrites who gleefully suck up their gummies and hemp oil and legalized medical marijuana while sipping on their “superb organic Pouilly-Fiussé”.
My hands are shaking in equal amounts of excitement and desperation as I check out what my guy has delivered today – reds, blues and yellows – a difficult choice, to be sure, but the numerous voices in my head have made a unanimous decision: mellow yellow to match my jaundiced skintone and disposition; yes, I’ve read the headlines and the fine print warnings – I’m not an idiot, you know, and that makes me laugh out loud!
Let’s see what’s in the magician’s box to fix this sallow complexion …. spackle-like primer to fill in the yawning crevices around my mouth, foundation with a bit of a dewy finish (or so the advertisements promise), creamy rosy blush for my cheeks, glossy brush-on plumper for luscious lips, pencil to fill in my threadbare brows, glittery highlighter to lessen the deep-set appearance of my eyes and layer upon layer of mascara on my straggly lashes.
Looking at my reflection once again, I see that I’m now back .… returned from the dead, if you will …. and I look sensational, provocative and sensual with just the right touch of promiscuousness, yet there are two burned-out, remote eyes blankly staring back at me.
I slip into my work clothes, ready for another night hitting the pavement, when I feel that familiar sensation and I’m faced with the recurring stalemate – whether I should just take all the pretty candy, lie down and pray I never wake up or put myself back on the meat market to earn enough money for another bag of Skittles; “Fuck it, I’m already dressed” I think as I pop a red and slam the door behind me.
NAR©2024
This is “The Pusher” by Steppenwolf
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. NAR©2017-present.
The Song Remains The Same
Once upon a time I was writing music blogs for a great little site called The Rhythm Section (TRS). Some of you followed my posts there; others were unaware of the site’s existence. As of a few days ago, The Rhythm Section was officially shut down.
I had the dream of starting my own music blog and gave it a great deal of thought; unfortunately, too many things got in the way. In the end I decided I had neither the time nor the ambition to maintain two sites and give both the attention they deserve.
I spent a lot of time working on TRS and thought “what a shame to let everything I wrote simply fade away”. And so I’m moving on, away from forces and people who drag me down and doing more of what makes me happy … like making one site out of two.
With that thought in mind, I have transferred every one of my posts from The Rhythm Section and incorporated them into The Elephant’s Trunk; they are all here in chronological order, tucked away between my stories, poems and other music posts. While looking them over, I have discovered some graphics did not survive the transfer; that’s unfortunate but it’s the chance we take when moving a lot of data around. Fortunately, the text and videos are intact.
I invite you, if you are so inclined, to check out TRS posts; they are dated March 2, 2023 and run through December 31, 2023. You’ll find them.
I hope you enjoy the words I have written and the music I have chosen.
See you on the flip side. 😎
NAR©2024
PS – This is a link to my first TRS post: https://theelephantstrunk.org/2023/03/02/at-the-movies/
This is Led Zeppelin, “The Song Remains The Same”
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. NAR © 2017-present.
The Elephant's Trunk 