With her picture in hand, he gave the red building before him a disapproving gaze. After a year of waiting, he finally received the great news his PI has located his MIA daughter.
Re-reading my sister, Bethany’s Will, I sighed, “My dear sister, you shall be the death of me.”
In the spirit of Valentine’s Day, this week’s MMLM Sunday Writing Prompt is “A Story of Love.“
Deeper and Deeper we trek into the woods. We must be at least almost two miles in by now as my throat begins to feel parch. What does he want with me and why me? I keep asking myself as I focus on hatching a plan.
“Crap, we’re stuck.” Em said as she dusted off her dress. A few minutes before, she and her husband, George, leapt from her granddad’s beloved train aka time machine as it hurdled 88-miles-per-hour toward what used to be a ravine.
Wee, I laugh as I soar across the sky. This is fun, much more fun than being a human. Wee…
“Honey!” I shout and immediately, I can hear a pair of big feet padding down the corridor to outside the bathroom door.
Come on, announce the winner already!
This week’s prompt MMLM Sunday Writing Prompt is “Driving.“ Driving Test Based on actual events… “Did your sister call you?” I asked my mom when I met her in the stairwell for our afternoon walk. Mom shook her head, “No, why?” “She called me this morning, asking some very random, weird questions.” “What kind of…
Breathe, 1, 2, 3, she willed. You can do this. She shut her eyes and began inhaling big gulps of air and expelling the air like she was trying to inflate a balloon. That was one of the things her therapist advised her to practice on. “What is something you want to do but you…
Sometimes, I think there’re more interesting things happening behind the camera than in front.
I am looking for post ideas to post on Mondays. So I decided to take a peek in my Writing Challenge list (a list of blog sites for writing challenges) on my WP reader and decided to take a crack at this one. Hope you enjoy.
“Re…lax,” I inhale and exhale, dragging the word, doing everything to calm the tension in my body. I shouldn’t be this nervous. Come on, I’m performing to a crowd on Zoom, not some important figure.
I stood there, staring at my husband’s desk. I should’ve known it’d be too good to be true. Neat-freaks and scatterbrains aren’t opposites. They don’t attract. They repel.
“What cha doin’?” George asks.
Mr. C stares at the sign and sighs. Still gone as it has been for 50 years. He’s stranded in this desolate place as his brain kept wandering back to that fateful night. What went wrong? “I triple-checked that spirit-meter, didn’t I?” He muttered.
“They call this the “Scrooge Farm”. Instead of Christmas decoration each year, around Christmas, there would be scarecrows dressed in rags and sandbags for heads popping up in random places ’round the farm. Now, no one has ever seen the owner as there’s no house on the hundred-acre property. “
Tossing his jacket onto the table, he sat down and sighed. He couldn’t believe it. Another pandemic. I’m 109, how many more events do I need to go through?
Great, fantastique, awesome, super. Just how many more different ways can I exaggerate this situation? I don’t know what gave anyone the idea or the impression I can single-handedly put together a Thanksgiving dinner in 4 hours. 4 HOURS!!! There I was, slaving away in the kitchen – turkey, vegetables, and stuffing in the oven,…
Sitting on this park bench, I am supposed to feel cold but somehow, I feel nothing except exhaustion and resignation.
Sitting in her car, Shelley debates whether she should go in.
Melanie rests her chin on her hands on the window ledge of her father’s car.