Category Archives: Little Sally

Bits-and-Pieces

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“Bits-and-Pieces!” Little Sally was perplexed, Granny always said ‘bits-an-pieces’ when she was bothered and it made her feel close to her grandmother by saying ‘bits-an-pieces’. It was her new thing. What had Little Sally in such a dither was that her new bow would not stay in her hair, she needed her bow. She would be playing and all of a sudden it would be in her face flopping around. It was pretty, pink with yellow spots, Sally’s favorite colors. She liked pink and yellow for everything, except chickenpox. Her brother had had chickenpox and he did not look good pink and yellow. Little Sally had been bundled off to Granny’s soon as that happened, but she remembered how icky he looked and hoped she would never be chickenpoxed.

As Sally was sticking her bow back on her head she got creamy filling from the Twinkie she was eating all over and now it was in her hair. “Bits-an-pieces!” Mother did not like Little Sally eating anything fun. She was fond of saying, you are what you eat. Sally didn’t quite know what that meant, but knew she would rather be sweet than something like artichoke, broccoli or, God forbid, liver and onions.

Mother looked at Little Sally a little more suspiciously than Sally would have liked, but didn’t say anything as Sally traipsed through the kitchen on her way to the backyard to play. Mother’s raised eyebrow was enough. At least the bow was now firmly stuck in place.

🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 

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Sunday Writing Prompt “5 by 5”

Include the answers to these questions in a story or poem
1. An item you just can’t live without
2. Your favorite snack
3. A bit of wisdom for the youths of today
4. A coincidence that unites two people
5. Your favorite word
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Editor’s note: The answers used in this story are Little Sally’s, not the author’s, he would not be caught dead wearing a pink and yellow bow in his hair.
250 words

 

Little Sally’s Science Experiment… Wordle #145

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The separation had been easy for Little Sally, as she watched the two halves of the worm wiggle under her surveillance.

“Wash your hands! I don’t want that feral grunge giving you the chills”, called out Mother. “I mean it, Sally!”

She always though Mother was full of hogwash when it came to science experiments; gurgling with glee watching the wiggling, Little Sally was blissfully unaware of upcoming consequences as she stuck a wedge of Stilton cheese into her mouth. For Mother was heading towards her to enforce the hand washing policy with the business end of a wooden spoon.

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Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie… This week Yves has challenged us to write a story using these words:

1. Separation
2. Wiggle
3. Wash
4. Surveillance
5. Grudge
6. Feral
7. Chills
8. Wedge
9. Gurgling
10. Upcoming
11. Hogwash
12. Enforce

(image of earthworm by BIOLOGY JUNCTION)

 

Little Sally’s Mishap…Wordle #144

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She was in a capricious mood while eating her Cap’n Crunch when the catastrophe occurred, making her feel lower than dirt and wanting to shrink into the woodwork. She had been banging her spoon on the bowl, and told to stop with fulgurant eyes from Mother’s rigid face she didn’t. Then, with a mighty blow causing her bowl to flip, her capacity for annoyance had reached a new level.

Mother made Little Sally wash down the table and all of the fiberglass seats before going out to play.

OjtwG
🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄🥄

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Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie… This week Yves has challenged us to write a story using these words:

1. Catastrophe
2. Dirt
3. Lower
4. Shrink
5. Crunch
6. Rigid
7. Flip
8. Blow
9. Capacity
10. Fiberglass
11. Capricious
12. Fulgurant- flashing like lightning

Little Sally’s Pail

PROMPT

Little Sally left her pail in the grass.
Mr. Robert didn’t want to hit it with his mower so he hung it on a nearby shed.
Coming back with her shovel, Little Sally couldn’t reach it.
She went and found Bobby.
Bobby got down on all fours and Little Sally stood on his back.
She still couldn’t reach the pail.
So she jumped up… still not high enough.
When she came down Bobby collapsed.
Undeterred, Little Sally got the milking stool and made Bobby get back down on all fours.
Success.
Noontime, Mother clangs the dinner gong.
Little Sally sprints for the house leaving her pail in the grass.

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It’s always fun to find a new writing group. My pal Rochelle Wisoff-Fields  is good at finding them. Rochelle, who you may know from reading my stories, is in charge of Friday Fictioneers and herds over 100 writers each week.

Please check out Writers Unite. I enjoyed seeing their prompt photo and a story immediately popped into my head, so this is definitely a flash fiction.

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