Prompts

OLWG #217- Two Suns, Low on the Horizon

This week’s prompts are at the bottom. Feel free to seize the prompts, twist them, form them, play with them as you will. All comers are welcome. The words below are just practice for me. I had a lot of fun writing them, and you know what I always say, “Practice makes perfect.”

Here’s how to play along, if you are unsure.



We were about three days out from base when Rosie found the shaft. She almost missed it as, over time, the top had filled with dirt. It was the readings from deeper that gave it away. Anyone less experienced than Rosie probably would never have made the connection. She radioed Marie about the discovery, and Marie jumped on her Precipitant, found me, and we both sped off to find Rosie.

We had no idea what it was that Rosie had stumbled across, but we were excited to find out. The scanner showed the first 2 ½ metres below the surface was most likely nothing more than dust and topsoil that had blown in over the last several hundred years or so. However, at this point, we were still unsure of the age or purpose of this shaft. Below that, the returns were noisy, scattered, and hard to read. We couldn’t make out anything definitive. Rosie floated the idea that it might have been a burial shaft. We didn’t know anything for sure. I sent her to fetch one of the pneumatic excavators from the Professor, who was not far behind us. Marie and I explored around the site looking for clues.

“What do you think this is, Richie?”

“I don’t know for sure, but maybe it’s an old mine entrance or a well. We should be able to find out soon enough.”

Marie panned around with the scanner while we waited, but we didn’t find much before Rosie came back. There were signs of a large metallic object beneath the surface about 15 metres west of the shaft, but it pinged back with a lot of scattering so whatever it was seemed to have been broken up pretty badly before it wound up buried. We had no idea if it was buried intentionally or if it’s internment had resulted from the severe dust storms that had covered everything else. We planned to investigate that after the shaft.

When Rosie returned with the excavator, she brought Marcellus along. He rode the Precipitant XL, so we used his Precip. to power the earth-moving equipment. Based on what we had seen on the scanner, we removed the first two metres as quickly as possible, then turned the equipment down to half-power to take out the next half meter, and after about fifteen minutes we started unearthing rocks, smooth rounded rocks. We’d seen them before and knew that they were generally formed that way after long periods in flowing water. Old river beds had tons of them, but there was no indication of there ever having been a river here, not even a stream. Where, then, had these river rocks come from? If that was indeed what they were.

As Marcellus continued to pull round rocks up from the shaft Rosie began looking more closely at them. Some were red, some were grey, some were greenish tinged, and some even looked blue. There were no black stones. On many of them, she could make out what appeared to be writing or pictures. Most were indecipherable, but eventually she found a grey one that said, “HEALTH.” From a little deeper Marcellus uncovered one with a crude drawing of what appeared to be a nude female torso, from the knees to the neck. Soon a red one surfaced that read “HAPPINESS.”

I had an epiphany, “I think I know what this is,” I said to anyone who might have been wondering, and the others gathered around. Marcellus turned off the excavator to join the discussion. I continued to expound on my theory, “I read recently about a practice, or maybe I should call it a belief, in some early primitive civilizations, called a wishing well. If someone wanted something badly enough, they could toss a coin or some other sort of token into one of these. The believers then thought that their wish would come true. Look what we’ve found here. I think these are wishes. Someone’s desires to be happy, a hope for health and a desire for sex.”

Marie and Marcellus simultaneously developed unpleasant expressions on their faces.

“Yeah, I know, but that’s the way it used to have to be if we wanted to reproduce.” I countered their distaste.

Rosie tossed me a bluish coloured stone from the pile that of excavated river rocks. “Look at this one,” she said, smiling. I looked at the rock, turned it, puzzling. When I realized what it reflected, I felt my face start to burn and then turn red.

Rosie held out her hand for the rock. I gave it back to her. She studied it closely. “Marcellus?” she got his attention, “Maybe we should have lunch together today. There’s something we might want to investigate. What do you say? We could go over by that hill out that way.” She pointed toward a low and distant mound in the direction of the suns.


This week’s prompts are:

  1. dig two graves
  2. not to be avoided
  3. the red cards

You can start writing whenever you want, just write, get the words down – and have fun!

Prompts

OLWG #216- The Black Cow Coffee House

This week’s prompts are at the bottom. Feel free to seize the prompts, twist them, form them, play with them as you will. All comers are welcome. The words below are just practice for me. I had a lot of fun writing them, and you know what I always say, “Practice makes perfect.”

Here’s how to play along, if you are unsure.



It was mid-May in 1994 when I first got to Croton. I had been making my way along the Hudson, and I was in no particular hurry. I had no place I had to be, and no time I had to be there. The last ride I had gotten was with a contractor, a man named Michael Grant. He told me how he and his wife, Peggy, were fixing to open a coffee shop in town. He had been feeling a little nervous about it; everyone, and I mean everyone, was telling him that he and Peggy were crazy.

He had to drop me off in Croton, which suited me to a “T.” It looked like a fine little town. I could easily spend some time here.

When Mike pulled to the curb, he pointed to the storefront place across the street. It had brown paper-covered front windows and the sounds of construction emanating from the inside.

Mike asked if I needed work. “I can’t pay you much,” he said, “but we’re trying to get this place ready for our grand opening in three weeks.”

I looked at my watch, I thought about his offer for all of two, maybe three, seconds and agreed. Sometimes you get a feeling about someone. Sometimes you know: this is a person I can trust. Sometimes, very rarely, you have the opportunity to help someone realize their dream. Sometimes, the people, the place, the timing, and the universe align to present you with an opportunity; a chance that you have to take. You know it’s all going to be alright.

“Come on over,” Mike said, “I want to introduce you to the crew.” We looked both ways and scampered across the street between the cars.

Sitting on a bench out front of the soon to be coffee shop was an old, black man. His toes were tapping as he sat erect and sang softly to himself. The tune sounded familiar, but I couldn’t figure out why or how I knew it.  He was of average height, average weight, and he wore his white hair slicked back, stiff with pomade. His moustache was meticulously trimmed and neat.

“Mikey,” the old man called out as we passed by, “Who’s the kid?”

“This here’s John.” Mike answered, “John, this old man is Cab, Cab, this kid is John. You two can sit and visit a little bit later, but I gotta find Peggy and let her know that John has agreed to help us out getting the shop ready to open.”

Cab just nodded and carried on humming, singing to himself. “See you later, John.” The old guy intoned. I followed Mike inside the storefront. I met his wife Peggy, who was working as the foreman, she explained that her real daytime job was at the hospital, but that she was taking a couple of weeks off to get this place ready. I liked her, thought she was a nice lady.

I met what seemed like a dozen or so others who would politely stop whatever they were doing to say hello before returning to work. Everyone seemed to have a sense of purpose, a common goal. I thought they would be a great team to work with, and they all welcomed me to the crew.

Mike talked to me for a while, got my Social Security Number, told me about the pay and what to expect and said that he would see me in the morning at 0700. I should be ready to work. Peggy told me that there was a small furnished apartment above their garage that I could use till I found something better if I wanted. She wrote their phone number and address on the back of a matchbook. “Get some grocery shopping done, stop at the front house and we’ll give you a key to the apartment. Good to have you onboard, John. We look forward to working with you.”

I pushed out the door and went over to take a seat with the old guy, still humming on the bench.

“Cab, right?” I said.

He nodded.

“You from around here?” I asked.

He nodded, “You gonna be staying back of Mike and Peggy’s?”

“For a while, I guess.”

Well, if you’re planning on sticking around for a while longer, me ‘n Nuffie got a garage apartment that’s bigger than Mike and Peggy got. I can rent it out to you, real cheap.”

“Thank you, Mr, – um, I’m sorry, Cab. I don’t know your last name. Mine is Murphy, John Murphy.”

Cab stopped singing, squinted his eyes, turned his head and looked squarely at me, “My name’s Calloway.” He said, “Sound familiar, to you?”

“Sorry, sir but no. It doesn’t. Should it?”

“No sir, Mr Murphy; it shouldn’t, shouldn’t at all. You should call me Cab. You can find me most days sitting on this bench. When they get that shop finished I expect I’ll go in there from time to time. Elsewise, I’ll be right here.”

I stuck around Croton for a while. I stayed with Mike and Peggy for only a week or so before moving into the Carriage house offered by Mr Calloway and his wife, Nuffie. I was just getting to know them when about the middle of June, that same year, Cab suffered a stroke at home. I stayed a little longer and moved on. The Calloway’s were good folks. They could have got five times what I was paying for that Carriage house. They chose to let me live there.

They were good folks


This week’s prompts are:

  • religion gets her all worked up
  • one way street
  • apostrophe’s don’t make plural’s?

You can start writing whenever you want, just write, get the words down – and have fun!

Prompts

OLWG #215- David Kemble- Boy and Basilisk- Serpent King

This week’s prompts are at the bottom. Feel free to seize the prompts, twist them, form them, play with them as you will. All comers are welcome. The words below are just practice for me. I had a lot of fun writing them, and you know what I always say, “Practice makes perfect.”

A special thanks to Tish Farrell whose idyllic corner of the world I stole as a setting for this silly story!

Here’s how to play along, if you are unsure.



Basilisk was primarily a serpent who spent time hiding beneath an upturned wheelbarrow at the rear of David Kemble’s back garden, between the fence and the tool shed. He had lived for aeons behind Dai’s house at the edge of Much Wenlock in Shrops, not far from the Welsh border. Basilisk demanded never to be discovered. Panic would surely ensue. Dai and Basilisk were fast friends who played together daily when the weather permitted. Over time Basilisk revealed to David that he was more than just some common snake. He was a serpent king and possessed magical powers. Basilisk was already old when he and Dai became acquainted. He spoke of but a few of his powers.

He told about how his hiss would cause other serpents to turn and run. He described his terrible venomous bite and how, like the Catoblepas, he had the power to kill with a mere glance. He had a noxious, poisonous aroma that would destroy undergrowth in the densest wood; it would burn fields and grass as Basilisk moved through. It would break stones that dared impede his progress.

In a misguided attempt to help, David once offered the use of a tub, and a box of soap powder, for Basilisk to bathe, but Basilisk refused. His scent was his super-power.

Basilisk feared only the weasel. The weasel could kill Basilisk. He could slither down into Basilisk’s den and, like Basilisk, he killed with his effluence.

Because Basilisk tended to destroy his immediate environment, he and Dai usually stayed in the back garden to play. Stickball was their favourite. They played with a sawn-off broomstick and a Spaldeen. Dai made trips to the toy shop and the DIY store, as Basilisk could oft times get caught up in the game and light the broomstick afire or melt the Spaldeen.

One Sunday afternoon, when the ball had melted again, David found himself at Mr Evans’ Toy Shop buying a replacement when he felt an undercurrent of fear, and excitement surge through town, up and down the High Street.

“What do you think is going on?” David asked, but before Mr Evans could venture a guess, they heard the phone ring from the back of the shop.


This week’s prompts are:

  • roses and weeds
  • Orleans inspiration
  • red from the petrol station

You can start writing whenever you want, just write, get the words down – and have fun!

Prompts

OLWG #214- The One With The Bright Blue Peacock Feather

This week’s prompts are at the bottom. Feel free to seize the prompts, twist them, form them, play with them as you will. All comers are welcome. The words below are just practice for me. I had a lot of fun writing them, and you know what I always say, “Practice makes perfect.”

Here’s how to play along, if you are unsure.


Texas Jack Walker lit the wooden match with his thumbnail and held the flame to the cigarette clamped in his mouth. He watched as water roiled down the dirty main street of Slow Branch. Walker had been the law here for less than six weeks. He was thinking of resigning, figuring he’d live longer that way.

Walker took delight in surveying the debris that floated past. The rain was cleaning this town better than he’d ever be able to.  Sweeping up the alleyways and clearing beneath the boardwalks, the rain took tumbleweeds, rodents, empty whisky bottles and everything else that wasn’t properly fixed down.

He recognized Angela Sweeney’s fancy feathered hat as it rapidly twirled in circles and moved down the centre of the street. Miss Sweeney worked at The Hundred Dollar. She was a dancer, and Walker had watched her twirl. He’d seen her spin in circles across the stage wearing little more than her fancy feathered hat. It set his mind to wandering.



This week’s prompts are:

  • bloodshot moon
  • I should go
  • chip away

You can start writing whenever you want, just write, get the words down – and have fun!

Prompts

OLWG #213- The Problem With Lying

This week’s prompts are at the bottom. Feel free to seize the prompts, twist them, form them, play with them as you will. All comers are welcome. The words below are just practice for me. I had a lot of fun writing them, and you know what I always say, “Practice makes perfect.”

Here’s how to play along, if you are unsure.


I could tell by the ringtone that it was Jenny calling. Naturally, I picked up, “Hey, babe. What’s going on?”

“Jimmy? Jimmy, I won!” she almost screamed. Breathlessly, she continued, “I won tickets to the game tonight. The Dubs are playing the Lakers – here in town. Cancel any plans you might have. The tickets even include parking right at Chase Centre. Tip-off is at 7:00. We should get there by 6:00. I’ll pick you up a little before 5:00, OK?”

I regretted, not for the first time, that I had ever told Jenny I was a basketball fan, but she loved the game so much. I wanted us to have common interests. I wanted to see her again, and it worked, but now I was living a lie. In my opinion, basketball was a sport designed to put people to sleep. I honestly thought the game would make more sense if they gave both teams a hundred points and let them play the last two minutes.

But, Jenny loved basketball. “That’s great, babe,” I said.

I was going to go. I wouldn’t miss it. If the Warriors should win, I might even get laid. I loved Jenny, but I was going to have to break it to her soon. Not tonight, though, definitely not tonight.

Maybe I’d bring it up after the playoffs.



This week’s prompts are:

  1. ain’t going nowhere
  2. easy gratification
  3. a dog named Flour

You can start writing whenever you want, just write, get the words down – and have fun!

Prompts

OLWG #212- Rockin’ Chair

This week’s prompts are at the bottom. Feel free to seize the prompts, twist them, form them, play with them as you will. All comers are welcome. The words below are just practice for me. I had a lot of fun writing them, and you know what I always say, “Practice makes perfect.”

Here’s how to play along, if you are unsure.


Luanne came back from town with a spankin’ new rocker.
Yellow pine
High backed
Seat carved with a hollowing adze
Prolly five coats of some cheap varnish bought from the Depot

“Where the hell’d you get that thing? And, why?” I asked her.
“Bought it from Señor Obregón for fifty dollars.” She replied.
“Why?”
“Why? You wanna know why?” she’s almost screaming by this time. Itching fed a fight.
“OK, Douglas, I’ll tell you why. It’s ‘cause you been promisin’ to build me a rocker so’s I can sit on the front porch and you ain’t never done it. You been promisin’ fer nigh on five years. You ain’t never done it. I’m tired ’a waitin’. I’m tired ’a sittin’ on the stoop while you sit in yer dead Pappy’s wicker chair. Even that thin’s fallin’ apart. This here’s my chair, Douglas. Your fat ass best never touch the seat on my rocker. Unnerstan?”

I done screwed the pooch this time.
Too late to build her a chair now
I Shoulda done it years ago
I got the tools
I got lumber in the shop
What I don’t got is excuses
She couldn’t let it go though
She kep goin’

“I shoulda listened to my Mama. She said you was a lazy no good sumbitch. I tole her that she jist didn’t know you. I tole her you was a good man. She wouldn’ listen to me an I wouldn’ listen to her. I shoulda listened to my Mama.”

She slammed the rocker down on the weathered boards, that made the porch. Musta scared the shit outta Toby, cause he skedaddled out from under that porch like somebody’d lit off a string of firecrackers. That dog is scared to death of bangs.

I stood up, in a huff and marched to the truck. I got in and left. In my mirror, I saw Luanne sink into her new chair with a big smile on her face. After going through town, I made my way to the Obregón house over on the east side of town. The Obregóns had a nice place. Big adobe house, good size plot ‘a land. Señor Obregón made spendin’ money off a truck patch he had near the house and he made furniture in a woodshop set on the other side of the garden. Him and his whole family was sittin’ in the shade of a big Elm tree at a wooden picnic table that he prolly made by his own self.

I parked the truck ‘tween the road and his split rail fence. I got out and waved to the family, leaned on the fence and hollered, just loud enough to be heard, “Señor Obregón, I’d like to have a word with you if that’s possible.”

He nodded his head and handed a baby, who’d been sittin’ on his knee, to a pretty young girl I figgered to be maybe sixteen or seventeen. She was maybe a daughter or a daughter-in-law. There musta been fifteen or twenty folks drinkin’ iced tea and runnin’ around that picnic table. Another dozen or so kids were kickin’ a ball around in the dust that made up the front garden. Señor Obregón shuffled over to where I waited at the fence; his boots kicking up clouds of dust as he moved.

I introduced myself and asked him about the chair he had sold my wife.

“I’m sorry, Señor Fields,” he said, “all sales of handmade furniture are final.”

“I sorry Mr Obregón, I think you misunderstand, I want to know if you have any more of them, maybe some footstools, some low tables that might look good between the two chairs. Nothing too fancy though, my porch is a little rundown.”

Obregón smiled, “Come to my shop, I’ll show you what I have.” He gestured across the garden and I walked down the fence and through the gate. He said something in Spanish to the girl with the baby. She immediately stood up and headed to the house. He and I went to the shop, and as we neared the door he removed a large skeleton key from the pocket of his loose trousers. Unlocking the door, he reached in, flicked on the lights and stood back for me to enter.

He was a compulsive builder, that Obregón. The centre of the room was filled with his massive workbench, all kinds of saws and woodworking equipment. Around the perimeter was furniture. There was chairs, tables, benches, cabinets, bookshelfs of all sizes, butcher block cutting boards, and the like. Most was yellow pine, though I could smell cedar and juniper in the mix as well. I told him I wanted three more rocking chairs to match the one he had sold Luanne. I wanted footstools. I wanted tables to sat twixt the chairs – so’s I’d have a place to set a plate, a cup, or a book if’n I was out enjoying the porch on the morning. I asked him to pick ‘em out for me. When he was done, we carried the new stuff out to the truck. His sons, or sons-in-law, pitched in to help, and money changed hands. He gave me a very fair price and bout that time they young woman with the baby reappeared. She had a big glass filled to the brim with sweet tea. She held it out and I took it. The deal was sealed.

Luanne loves me again. She thinks the porch is the best room in the house. She might be right. I send all my friends to Mr Obregón for furniture. Best investment I ever made.

I think I’ll have him make me one of them big picnic tables, one like he has at his house, gotta wait for my tree to get bigger though. The Obregóns gave us a young Elm, like theirs. It has long slender branches but it’s growing. I can’t wait.



This week’s prompts are:

  1. a ruby red right hand
  2. laundry on the line
  3. bleu cheese and coleslaw

You can start writing whenever you want, just write, get the words down – and have fun!

Prompts

OLWG #211- But One Unforgivable Sin of The Keweenaw

This week’s prompts are at the bottom. Feel free to seize the prompts, twist them, form them, play with them as you will. All comers are welcome. The words below are just practice for me. I had a lot of fun writing them, and you know what I always say, “Practice makes perfect.”

Here’s how to play along, if you are unsure.


Chooch was a Yooper, born and raised. He grew up in the village of Calumet, just off 6th street and not far from the Copper Country Firefighters History Museum, where his mother, Marion, worked during the season. He never knew his dad.

Marion Churchill died in a traffic accident during the winter of 2004.

Chooch, given name Terry, was not quite ten years old when he found himself living with his maiden aunts in Eagle River, not far from the lighthouse. The aunts were hoarders, and it was a tough life for the boy, but he knew others who had it worse. The house where they lived used wood for heat. During the winter Chooch’s job was to get up and start a fire in the woodstove. Warm up the house and get breakfast started.

Chooch lived with his aunts until he was eighteen years old when he fled the Keweenaw to enlist in the Navy. Each year that he lived with his aunts they would, without fail, neglect to lay in enough wood to last through the long winter, and Chooch would eventually have to start dismantling the front porch to burn the lumber. In summer, he would rebuild the porch, the same cycle, year after year.

One September, while he was at sea, his oldest aunt, Kaelyn, was killed, crushed when a large stack of newspapers fell on her. He got compassionate leave and went home to help his remaining aunt, Lexie, deal with her sister’s death. He made sure that there was enough wood laid in for Lexie to get through the winter and rebuilt the porch before flying back to Pearl Harbour. At the time, he thought that the house was fuller than he had ever seen it before.

Terry never saw his Aunt Lexie alive again. She died of cardiac arrest standing up in the hallway wedged between piles of boxes and stuff. There was not enough room for her to fall to the floor. She left the house to Chooch. He never went back to claim it. He couldn’t find a reason to.



This week’s prompts are:

  1. while the world drifts downstream
  2. no trespassing
  3. I lowered myself down

You can start writing whenever you want, just write, get the words down – and have fun!

Prompts

OLWG #210- The Bull at Mirhead

This week’s prompts are at the bottom. Feel free to seize the prompts, twist them, form them, play with them as you will. All comers are welcome. The words below are just practice for me. I had a lot of fun writing them, and you know what I always say, “Practice makes perfect.”

Here’s how to play along, if you are unsure.


Strolling the Mirhead high street, Sonia began feeling a bit peckish. She decided to stop in at “The Bull” for a bite to eat. There was a rumpled and ancient man at the bar. Only a single table appeared occupied, near the front window.
Sonia recognized Marie Clarke, the barmaid, and waved to her. Marie’s mum worked at the Marks and Sparks there in Mirhead. She had done for years. Sonia was not close with the Clarkes but knew them well enough to enquire about the family when they chanced to encounter one another in town.
“Hey there, Marie,” Sonia acknowledged, “how’s your mum?” She took a seat at the counter.
Marie’s eyes darted quickly right, where three middle-aged men sat at the small table, not speaking.
“She’s good, she’s good, thanks,” her eyes flicked back to the small table and the men. She shook her head from side to side, almost imperceptibly.
With a questioning look on her face, Sonia asked for a Stilton ploughman and a ginger tonic.
“Of course,” Marie said as she moved through the swinging door back to the kitchen. When she came back a few seconds later, she advised, “Patrick will have that right out for you.” She turned her attention to the three men, “You gents ready to order?”
They all mumbled incoherent responses as Marie pulled a notepad and pencil from her apron pocket. Sonia tuned them out and played with her phone until Patrick came out of the kitchen with her lunch in hand. He yelled at Marie to fetch the ginger tonic, set the plate down in front of Sonia, spun on his heel and disappeared back the way he had come.
Sonia picked up her hunk of rustic bread to tear off a piece and there, hastily scrawled on the plate, in black marker the single word, “HELP!” She tore off a small fragment of bread and set the remainder back down, carefully covering the plea written on the plate. She called out.
“Marie, I have that CD in the car. The one I promised to pick up for your mum. Can you get it to her if I leave it with you?”
“Of course I can. Mum’s been quite excited to get it.”
“Let me run back out to the car and fetch it then.” Sonia pulled her cell from her bag as soon as she left the front door. Sonia dialled ‘999’ as she walked to the car park.



This week’s prompts are:

  1. a simple kitchen chair
  2. mistake my big talk for truth
  3. big door prize

You can start writing whenever you want, just write, get the words down – and have fun!

Prompts

OLWG #209- The Western Nuclear Family- A Case Study

This week’s prompts are at the bottom. Feel free to seize the prompts, twist them, form them, play with them as you will. All comers are welcome. The words below are just practice for me. I had a lot of fun writing them, and you know what I always say, “Practice makes perfect.”

Here’s how to play along, if you are unsure.


The Dearborns lived in a three-bedroom condo; at the top of a bluff, looking out over the Upper Bay.
Middle class,
the bottom of the heap in this town, though.

Damon was Head of International Sales at Neurogeneric Technologies.
His second wife, Débora, who went by Dee, worked at a private school overlooking the harbour.
Damon and Dee had two daughters; Cà was the eldest, and her sister was called Cilla.

Neurogeneric was a $35M company,
Damon was a rising star.
He was seldom home.

Dee collected men like other people collect stamps.
Cà was an honours student who liked to smoke a little weed,
maybe sniff a little coke from time to time.

Cilla, the youngest, lived for distance running, Steven King books,
and shaving the heads of Barbie dolls.
Dee started drinking in the morning as soon as the girls got off to school.

Damon had a secretary named Ember,
Who accompanied him on business trips abroad.
He had yet another girl who worked in shipping/receiving.



This week’s prompts are:

  1. wanna be someone else
  2. hard times are easy to find
  3. shamelessly speak the truth

You can start writing whenever you want, just write, get the words down – and have fun!

Prompts

OLWG #208- Sijo- Focused

This week’s prompts are at the bottom. Feel free to seize the prompts, twist them, form them, play with them as you will. All comers are welcome. The words below are just practice for me. I’ve been reading a bit about Sijo lately, a Korean verse form. I thought I should give it a try and I had a lot of fun writing it, and you know what I always say, “Practice makes perfect.”

Here’s how to play along, if you are unsure.


His footprint marks an empty road:

     a pilgrim moves along the verge

“Come, sit with us friend,

     share our food, our drink, our fire.”

He considers the horizon,

     and moves on – ever determined.



This week’s prompts are:

  1. gut shot
  2. who am I kidding
  3. chalk and cheese

You can start writing whenever you want, just write, get the words down – and have fun!