Written for Sue & Gerryβs Weekly Prompts
Weekend Challenge (βforwardβ) and for
Gerry & Sueβs Weekly Prompts Wednesday
Challenge (βraggedβ). This is my response.
Tag: Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge
Date Night
Written for Sammiβs Weekend Writing Prompt #407
using the word βmandateβ, Gerry & Sueβs Weekly
Prompts Wednesday Challenge (βstodgyβ), and
Sue & Gerryβs Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge
(βdaintyβ). In 71 words exactly, this is my little story.
The Last Violin
Written for Sue & Gerryβs Weekly Prompts
Weekend Challenge (important) and for
Gerry & Sueβs Weekly Prompts Wednesday
Challenge (fragile). This is my response,
originally written in 2017, my 1st year blogging.
That Inner Glow
Written for Sue & Gerryβs Weekly Prompts
Weekend Challenge and the word βabsenceβ
and for Gerry & Sueβs Weekly Prompts Wednesday
Challenge and the word βembellishment.
This is my response.
Catologically Speaking
Written for Sammiβs Weekend Writing Prompt #402
using the word βspookβ and Sue & Gerryβs Weekly
Prompts Weekend Challenge with the required word
βPookieβ. In exactly 32 words, this is my story.
All Twisted Up
Written for Estherβs βCan You Tell A Story Inβ¦..?β
exactly 21 words using the required three words
βfiendβ, βyogaβ and βparrotβ. I have also used
Sue & Gerryβs Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge
word βdeepβ. This is my 21 word story.
The Raffle
Written for Sammiβs Weekend Writing Prompt #398,
incorporating the word βwinnerβ and for Sue & Gerryβs
Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge using the prompt
word βblanketβ. In exactly 95 words, this is my story.
Gone Fishing
Becoming Strangers: A Dectina Refrain
Written for Sue & Gerryβs Weekly Prompts Weekend
Challenge β βdamagedβ. This is my Dectina Refrain.
Slim Pickings
Written for Sammiβs Weekend Writing Prompt #389
incorporating the word βhunterβ in exactly 99 words.
Also responding to Gerry & Sueβs Weekly Prompts
Wednesday Challenge (βduplicityβ) and Sue & Gerryβs
Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge (βmethodβ).
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.
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 youβre 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.
Youβre a cutie-pie; I wouldnβt mind a roll in the hay with you, thatβs for damn sure. Next time you’re in Wichita, stop by Dorisβ Donuts β simplicity at its tastiest!
Iβll keep the light on.
Fondly, Doris Lipsmacker
NARΒ©2024
94 Words
From 1952, this is βWheel of Fortuneβ by Kay Starr
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.
Let It Out
Written for Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge
and Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge incorporating
the words ‘leaves’ and ‘judge’. This is my story.
Itβs 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 Iβd be fine at dinner β 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 didnβt. 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 Iβve 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 β 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 β 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 βCall herβ. 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 wasnβt alone. I was so engrossed in what Lily was telling me, I didnβt even realize my anxiety had passed. I had eaten my dinner and people were ordering dessert. The evening actually wasnβt a disaster.
The next day Lily called to check on me. Iβll never forget what she said: βYou know, I was sitting next to you and I didnβt notice anything wrong. You looked perfectly fine and if you hadnβt said anything we never would have known.β
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 isnβt helpful; in fact, it could make things worse. Opening myself up and exposing my vulnerability showed me itβs ok to let others know βHey, Iβm freaking out right now and I need help.β
I learned a valuable life lesson that night: Let it out and let someone in.
NARΒ©2024
This is βUnder Pressureβ featuring Queen, Annie Lennox and David Bowie
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.
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 summerβs end
NARΒ©2024
This is βEnd of Summerβ featuring Katie Melua and L.U.C. from The Peasants soundtrack
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.
Whole Lotta Shakin’
Written for Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge with the
prompt word ‘bank’ and for Weekend Writing Prompt #377
using the word ‘reverberate’ in exactly 43 words. Here’s my piece.
When my kids played
the whole house would
shake
like an eight point
earthquake
and the coins in their
piggy bank
would
reverberate
as the crystal glasses
in the dining room
breakfront
did the hippy hippy
shake
and I
baked
an
earthquake
cake
NARΒ©2024
43 Words
You can find the recipe for Earthquake Cake HERE.
This is βThe Hippy Hippy Shakeβ by the Swinging Blue Jeans
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.
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 Canadaβs Alberta province. The photos were breathtaking; the area was one of the most natural and unsoiled landscapes weβd ever seen. The site said Jasper was βan authentic mountain community that managed to retain a cozy, warm and βrealβ atmosphere with a laid-back vibeβ. It was also one of North Americaβs 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 didnβt 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 Robβs number hoping to hear his phone ring; I heard nothing. Checking my phone I saw there was no cell service in the area; I couldnβt 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 Β© 2024
This is “Snowblind” by Styx
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.
Inquiring Minds
Written for Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge
and Weekend Writing Prompt #368 where we are
asked to be creative in exactly 100 words incorporating
the prompt words “sleep” and “quaint”. This is my story.
We visited the Poe Cottage this week, former home of the poet Edgar Allan Poe. Itβs about a 30 minute drive from my house and I thought my two teenage grandchildren would enjoy the walk-around since theyβre both reading the works of Poe in school.
Itβs a quaint old place with small bedrooms, a common kitchen-parlor-dining room downstairs and an upstairs loft. My 6β tall grandson questioned how a grown man could sleep in the tiny bed.
At one point I realized my grandson had gone missing. Imagine my embarrassment when he was found napping in Poeβs bed!
Inquiring minds.
NARΒ©2024
100 Words
This is βIβm So Tiredβ by the Beatles
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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 βWhatβs the secret to a long and happy marriage?β For us itβs 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.
Thatβs us. Uncomplicated. Happy together.
NARΒ©2024
88 Words
This is βHappy Togetherβ by the Turtles.
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.
Boys Will Be Boys
Written for Stream of Consciousness – βWhatβs that smell?β,
Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – “humility” and
Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – “departure”.
Growing up, it was just me and my sister β two girls doing girl things. And while we werenβt always best of friends, it was just the two of us. It wasnβt my fault that my mother went into labor smack in the middle of my sisterβs 4th birthday party; after making a hasty departure for the hospital, my mother arrived just in time for me to be born β¦. on my sisterβs birthday β¦. and sheβs never really forgiven me. I mean, she says she has but deep down thereβs 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 whoβd come over the house to play and swim in our pool. Thereβs a definite advantage to having the only pool on the block β 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 .β¦ except for my cousins and they didnβt 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, wouldnβt 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 didnβt come close to what these boys were packing! It didnβt matter how well I knew Billβs anatomy; he didnβt wear a diaper and I had never changed one β¦. at least not a boyβs. 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 itβs 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, thatβs where men first learn to pee with no hands β yawning and stretching and placing their hands behind their heads in a very satisfied βlook-what-I-can-doβ 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 βhit 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 β¦. and I mean NOTHING β¦. like the overwhelming musky, barn-like odor that punches you in the face when you open the door to a boyβs bedroom. For the love of all things holy, what is going on in there? How is it possible for boys β¦. little or big β¦. 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)?
Weβre all adults here and you know exactly what Iβm 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 βDETERGENT GOES HERE.β βBLEACH GOES HERE.β βSOFTENER GOES HERE.β Iβm sure they didnβt 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 β¦. within reason; if I thought something dangerous was happening, Iβd be in there in a flash. Iβd just had enough of cleaning up their messes. Now theyβre 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.
NARΒ©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 βSodomyβ.
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NARΒ©2017-present.
Tasty Balls
Written for Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – “one day“
and Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – “menu”
βMohammedan-owned Chinese/Tai/Himalayan/Middle Eastern/Indian Restaurant” β well, you certainly donβt 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 β βTasty Ballsβ.
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; thatβs 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 βThe Barefoot Magpieβ β another place Iβd never heard of. How can this be? Iβve lived in Lancaster all my life and thought I knew every place there was to eat. Obviously I havenβt been getting out enough lately.
Whatβs this? βTasty Ballsβ 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 worldβs biggest sucker for dumplings!
Well now, letβs see what else the article says: βExtravagantly yet handsomely decorated β¦ moderately priced β¦ perfectly prepared dumplings β¦ culinary delight.β My stomach rumbled and my mouth watered as I read a description of just a tiny sampling of dumplings offered at βTasty Ballsβ:
- Jiaozi β A Chinese dumpling consisting of delicately sautΓ©ed ground meat and chopped vegetables wrapped into a thinly rolled dough-ball which is then fried to a golden brown or gently steamed.
- Xiaolongbao β 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 dinerβs mouth is filled with liquid ambrosia.
- Momos β 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 βTasty Ballsβ.
- Shish Barak β 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 β 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 β Originally from Saudi Arabia, this luscious dessert translates into βsmall bitesβ. 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 βWhat in the world has come over you?β
Holding up the soggy newspaper I exclaimed βThis β as if you didnβt know, you little minx! Tempting me with an article about delectable dumplings. Well, it worked. Itβs βTasty Ballsβ tonight!β
βOh, I donβt think so, luvβ Judith laughed. βThatβs Euniceβs. 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.
NARΒ©2024
This is Ronnie Spector with βTandoori Chickenβ written by Phil Spector and George Harrison.
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.
April Showers: A Haibun
Written for Weekend Writing Prompt #359 (tempest, 29 words)
Moonwashed Weekly Prompt (gilt-edged) and
Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge (pointless)
Itβs springtime! I love to see my flowers growing but sudden storms wreak havoc on defenseless, gilt-edged blossoms.
roses madly thrashed
springβs wild tempest rains attack
my pointless garden
NARΒ©2024
29 Words
This is “Dead Flowers” by the Rolling Stones – Totally Stripped
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 Playground
Written for Six Sentence Story, incorporating the word βslide”,
Fandangoβs 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 isnβt 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 couldnβt 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 fatherβs; 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 .β¦ items of sentimental value β¦. 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, βDear Ali, I remember how much you loved these and I wanted you to have them, maybe one day for your own little girlβ ~ Love, Dad.
Puzzlement creased Allisonβs forehead as she gently pushed away the bubble wrap to discover one of her favorite toys β 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.
NARΒ©2024
This is “Lazy Day” by Spanky and Our Gang
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.
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?
Thatβs what happened to me when I first met Bill β¦. 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, weβve had our misunderstandings …. who hasn’t? …. but what an adventure our life has been.
Heβs the fisherman but I caught a keeper!
NARΒ©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 Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NARΒ©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 canβt accept is me .β¦ 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 doesnβt give a shit what I look like as long as I have the money to pay him.Β
Thereβs that old twitch in my left eye, an unwelcome reminder that a killer headache and nausea are about to overtake me if I donβt eat some Skittles, a much more socially acceptable term than that hushed-up, dirty little name that makes all the so-called βwell-adjustedβ 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 βsuperb organic Pouilly-FiussΓ©β.
My hands are shaking in equal amounts of excitement and desperation as I check out what my guy has delivered today β reds, blues and yellows β 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, Iβve read the headlines and the fine print warnings β Iβm not an idiot, you know, and that makes me laugh out loud!
Letβs see whatβs in the magician’s box to fix this sallow complexion β¦. 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 Iβm now back .β¦ returned from the dead, if you will β¦. 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 Iβm faced with the recurring stalemate β 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; βFuck it, Iβm already dressedβ I think as I pop a red and slam the door behind me.
NARΒ©2024
This is βThe Pusherβ by Steppenwolf
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.
A Little Alone Time
Sammi at Weekend Writing Prompt
has challenged us to write something clever
in exactly 91 words, using the word βintentβ.
This is my response in exactly 91 words.
Angie eased into the bathtub.
Her once lithe and graceful body had been rebelling for a while; now it had declared mutiny.
She didnβt expect to have free time today so this moment of solitude was bliss.
Angie barely had time to relax when she heard the persistent nudging on the door; a black paw soon found its way into the narrow opening.
Sidney, the cat.
He was intent on getting into the bathroom to see what Angie was up to without him.
βSid!β Angie scolded playfully. βA little privacy, please!β
NARΒ©2024
91 Words
This is Rufus Wainwright with βAlone Timeβ
All text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR Β© 2017-present.
Driving Lessons
βDanielle wants to learn how to drive, Bobβ
βDonβt look at me, Helen. Last year’s lessons with Vanessa nearly put me over the edge.β
βWell, I canβt do it! Ever since Marcia Morelli snatched that promotion for Real Estate Agent of the Year away from me, Iβm spending all my time at work playing catch up.β
βThatβs not my problem, Helen. Anyway, I signed on to coach Brandonβs baseball team this season, remember?β
βOh, cry me a river, Bob! Youβre the one who took an early retirement; your schedule is much more flexible than mine.β
βThatβs right, I retired so I could do things I enjoy like playing golf and going fishing. Itβs important to stay mobile after retirement so we donβt become dust in the wind.β
βWell, if you canβt do it and I canβt do it, why donβt we get Vanessa to teach Danielle how to drive?β
βAre you out of your mind, woman! Vanessaβs been driving less than a year. She canβt take Danielle out driving! Can you imagine the mayhem when those two hit the streets?β
βAt least Iβm making suggestions, Bob. All youβre doing is justifying why you canβt do it.β
βOh, Helen, save your breath and donβt look at me with such contempt. Iβm right and you know it. I wonβt idly sit by and watch both our daughters driving without an adult in the car. Itβs out of the question.β
βYou wonβt? Oh, thatβs wonderful, Bob! I knew youβd come around!β
βNow hold on there, Helen. I didnβt agree to anything.β
βWhy, sure you did, Bob. You said you wouldnβt sit idly by while the girls are driving around without an adult in the car.β
βBut I didnβt meanβ¦..β
βLook at it this way, Bob. Danielle is used to being driven everywhere she goes. If you donβt teach her how to drive, youβll just have to drive here wherever she wants to go. Iβd say this is a win/win situation.β
βAnd how do you figure that, Helen?β
βSimple! By giving Danielle driving lessons, youβll be doing your part to keep our insurance rates down, youβll be able to coach Brandon’s baseball team and still have time to do the things you enjoy and you wonβt turn into dust in the wind. And all it takes is just one daily one-hour driving lesson! Youβre a genius, Bob!β
βI am? Yeah, I guess I am. Hey! Wait just a gosh darn minute, Helen!β
NARΒ©2024
This is Kansas with βDust In The Windβ
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR Β© 2017-present.
In Denial
Sammi at Weekend Writing Prompt has challenged us to write
creatively in exactly 60 words, incorporating the word βvapidβ.
Using a few other prompt words, here is my 60-word response
in the form of a Dectina Refrain and a Haiku Duet.
Old
man with
vapid thoughts
and empty eyes
lives in denial;
puppeteers pulling strings
feeding hypnotic untruths
into flaccid, desolate brain
on the outskirts of insanity.
Old man with vapid thoughts and empty eyes
Gray, grayer smoke
above the clouds in the sky
no light shining brightly
Brown dying trees
dried leaves lay at the roots
no buds tacitly emerging
NARΒ©2024
60 words
This is βFool On The Hillβ by the Beatles
Dectina Refrain:
This refrain is written as follows:
1st line β 1 syllable, 2nd line β 2 syllables
3rd line β 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines;
the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines
as one stand-alone line.
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR Β© 2017-present.
Supper’s Ready
An oldie from 2017, revamped to
include several word prompts from
FOWC with Fandango,
Moonwashed Weekly Prompt and
Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge.
Hard boiled egg whites, cottage cheese, skim milk. Day 1. Brian sighed.
Boiled rice, a mozzarella slice, lactose-free milk. Day 2. Brian cried.
Yogurt, tofu, almond milk. Day 3. Brian died …. just a little.
What a drag.
After receiving the diagnosis “ULCER”, Brian’s wife Ali had been lovingly, carefully packing his lunches. He checked the contents of his bento box: plain broiled cod, boiled cauliflower and coconut milk. βThis must be her White Periodβ,Β he thought, wistfully.Β
Sensitive and embarrassed coworkers averted their eyes as they passed Brianβs cubicle on their way to lunch. Gone were the cheerful calls βCβmon, Brian! Weβre going to Smokinβ Joeβs Hot Wings for lunch!β or βSalsa and nachos in the hospitality room, guys!β Oh, the humanity!
Brianβs computer pinged. It was an email from Ali: βHi, hon. Hope youβre having a great day. Did you find the Maalox I put in your backpack? Weβre having something special for dinner tonight …. poached chicken, brown rice and garbanzo beans …. hope youβre hungry! Love ya, babe! xoβ
βAh, Aliβs Beige Period.β Brian stared blankly at the computer screen. βI wonder how many beige foods there are …. oatmeal, boiled potatoes, matzoh….β
How long could he continue at this rate?
Depressed, fatigued and hungry, Brian put his head in his hands; a solitary tear fell through his fingers onto his khakis. Slowly the wet spot morphed into the shape of a slice of pizza. βWhat the …. ?!β Incredulous, Brian blinked and wiped his eyes. βWhatβs happening to me?!β Images of devilish, cramp-inducing, bowel-seizing delicacies danced βround his head …. jalapeΓ±o poppers, tacos, barbecued ribs.
The dreaded hunger hallucinations! Sweating, Brian texted Ali. βBabe. Last minute meeting with the deputy mayor. Sorry, Iβm gonna miss dinner. Love ya!β
Brian lied.
Grabbing the bottle of Maalox and a Smokin‘ Joe’s menu from his desk drawer, Brian bolted from his cubicle, giddy as a school girl at her first dance.
βOutta my way, boys, outta my way!!β
Brian knew he was taking a big chance but he just didn’t care. He was starving, dammit! And out he ran, laughing and joyfully shouting, “JalapeΓ±o-effing-poppers, baby!!”
NAR Β© 2024
Doing a great parody of Michael Jackson’s “Beat It”, this is “Weird Al” Yankovic with “Eat It”
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR Β© 2017-present.
Dem Bones
Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge
is challenging us to write a
Six Sentence Story using
the word “kick”. I threw in 8 other
prompts I had in my back pocket;
this is my response.
Last week I had my bi-weekly (every two weeks) session with my pain management doctor; I always get a perverse kick out of the term ‘pain management’ and feel like I need to say something witty and clever (sarcastic) about it to the insentient people who work there, hereafter referred to as ‘the staff’.
βYou know, the term ‘pain management‘ is all well and good however I’m really here in search of ‘pain termination‘”, I mention to the front desk receptionist who is characteristically unresponsive; my darling, unceasingly patient husband stands to the side with a sheepish yet accepting half-smile on his face (sometimes accompanied by a masterful eye-roll) knowing all to well there are times I cannot or simply will not control my Sicilian forked tongue, being the perspicacious and savvy sort that I am.
My doctor’s office is in a building with other doctors so thereβs always a soft parade of wheelchairs and people with canes, crutches, walkers or other means of physical assistance going into the various offices; many have spouses/friends/caregivers accompanying them with dogeared paperbacks, sudoku puzzles or endlessly-beeping cell phones except for my husband and me who both have appointments with the same doctor for ‘management’ of our pain, he at 11:00 and me at 11:20, and so we accompany and entertain each other.
A key is needed to unlock the door to the ‘Guest Restrooms’ which are located near the elevators; this is a major inconvenience and I have issues with this arrangement since there’s not one but two ‘Staff Only’ restrooms in the doctor’s office which screams HYPOCRISY considering the patients are the ones who would benefit from having a restroom nearby and because the ‘staff’ sometimes uses the ‘guest’ restroom when they have their own damn restrooms (but we can’t use theirs), and since no one is actually resting in the ‘restroom’, let’s drop the euphemism and call it what it is β a toilet, FFS!
I persevere and consider the walk to the ‘Guest Restroom’ part of my daily exercise but rest assured β I am seething inside and secretly hope there’s a member of the ‘staff’ in the ‘Guest Restroom’ who might accidentally trip over someone’s cane; there are a lot of canes at ‘pain management’.
Speaking of canes, I bring along my bold new walking stick; I don’t always need it but I think it makes me look erudite, sophisticated and elegant in a nonchalant sort of way, even though my knees are barking like angry junkyard dogs; looking good is half the battle.
NARΒ©2024
From 1940, this is Fats Waller with βDem Dry Bonesβ
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantβs Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR Β© 2017-present.
WINDOW SHOPPING
Waves of glorious flaxen hair rippled over her shoulders, swaying and bouncing with every high-heeled, leggy stride she took.
Never one to shy away from attention, especially that of the male population, she confidently waltzed down Fifth Avenue toward Saks, stunning in red Jimmy Choo thigh-high boots, a snow-white fur coat, and a single strand of pearls.
Admiring looks didnβt intimidate her; they titillated her, challenged her to be more daring and quite a bit risquΓ©. It was all a game and she loved to play.
As she strolled the avenue, stopping to look at the exceptional Christmas displays in the store windows, she noticed the reflection of a man leaning drowsily against a parked car. Accustomed to men looking her way, she thought nothing of it at first but found herself glancing at his image more often than usual. Sliding her Ray Bans a little down her nose, she gave this mystery manβs reflection a furtive peek. Intriguing.Β
Repositioning her glasses, she continued window shopping, collecting all the longing glances cast her way and storing them in her bag like so many colorful Christmas lights. Every so often sheβd linger at a quaint little shop or gallery, acutely aware of her mystery man shadowing her along the way. Now this was starting to get interesting. Slowly she removed her shades and gave his reflection a long look.
Why not? Slipping her sunglasses on, she turned around to a vision that caught her breath β¦. from head to toe the epitome of elegance and charm. Raven hair, tanned skin, black cashmere coat draped over his arm, charcoal grey pinstripe suit, crisp white shirt, black and silver Art Deco tie and Italian shoes β¦. not black but the exact color of his suit. Nice touch; the paragon of haute couture.
She smiled. He smiled. She turned slowly, giving him ample time to fall into place beside her.
She continued walking, no longer followed by a mysterious shadow but side-by-side with an intriguing companion. Together they would take the road wherever it led them.
NAR Β© 2023
This is “All I Want For Christmas” by Robyn Adele Anderson, featuring Von Smith
Join me today for a brand new
Christmas edition of
Name That Tune.
Let’s see who gets it right!
https://rhythmsection.blog/
A COLD CALL
βHi, Iβm calling about your ad.β
Her voice was soft and sultry, as smooth and silky as his finest Makerβs Mark bourbon. The image of a voluptuous goddess with long wavy caramel-colored hair, tanned skin and moist red lips immediately appeared before him. He could see her pearly teeth as she smiled, tantalizingly nibbling her bottom lip. He felt himself getting excited.
βIs anyone there?β he heard her say and roused him out of his fantasy.
βYes, sorry. Iβm here. I was distracted for a moment. Thereβs something about your voice; itβs very …. familiarβ he replied trying to sound nonchalant.
βI get that a lotβ she answered, her throaty laugh arousing him again. He could see this woman easily becoming an addiction.
βAre you calling about the apartment or the car?β Please let it be the apartment β¦. let it be the apartment .β¦ he pleaded silently, picturing her sprawled on his bed.
βThe Corvette, of course. No sexy car list would be complete without it, donβt you agree?β She chuckled softly.
There was that laugh again. He had to meet this woman. Today.
βOf course. The ‘Vette’s’ an incredible machineβ he said, a bit disappointed that she wasnβt interested in renting his apartment. He had to get her there.
βIncredible sounds about right” she agreed. “And thrilling, too, judging by the photo in your ad. With her open top, sheβs as sleek and beautiful as a Corvette was meant to be β a car to melt some hearts and explode others.β
As she spoke, he had a vision of her in the ‘Vette’, top down, driving along the Santa Barbara coastline, her hair loose and wild like crimson flames. She was laughing as she drove faster and faster, her hand teasing the head of the gear shift. She was wearing a short black leather skirt and a low-neck sweater, her perfect breasts heaving with excitement. She smelled of lilacs. His heart was racing, his erection pounding.
Who is this woman? He couldnβt think straight. Snap out of it, dummy!
βSo, when would you like to see the car?β he asked. Today, today, today raced repeatedly in his brain.
βToday, if that works for youβ came the response he hoped for.
Careful not to appear anxious, he hesitated before answering.
βHmm, today. My scheduleβs kind of tight” he lied “but I might be able fit you in around 4:00. Would that work for you?β
βYes. I can come anytime.β
Oh God, did she really just say that? Sweet Jesus …. this woman was driving him insane!
βHold on one sec” she purred. “I just need to check something.β
He waited impatiently for her return. He went over his plan: theyβd meet at 4:00, take the Corvette out for a leisurely drive and get back to his place just in time for a βspontaneousβ dinner and whatever might follow.
βSorry to keep you waiting” she said breathlessly. “I wanted to make sure my wife would be available at 4:00.β
Wait. What? Wife? Did she say wife? She was married? To a WOMAN! His passion vanished instantly along with his rapidly sagging manhood.
βHey, sorry …. Iβm getting another call” he lied again. “Hold on.β
Deflated, he pushed the βend callβ button.
NAR Β© 2023
This is Prince and “Little Red Corvette”
Please join me today
for another edition of
In The Groove:
I’m With The Banned.
https://rhythmsection.blog/
The Elephant's Trunk 