My friend Polly sent me some photos of her great aunt, who was a professional ballroom dancer. She asked me if I would like to write a story with her. I loved seeing the photos and wrote the first chapter… here is Polly’s continuation…
A continuation from Ted’s story – read part 1 here and inspired by some family photographs I recently found
Bella felt she could sleep for days, and perhaps she would’ve if she lived somewhere else; instead she was brought rudely to wakefulness by the clanking sound of the plumbing, protesting at her neighbours’ requirement for water with which to flush, shave, bathe and cook. All around her, apartment doors were opening and closing, feet clattering on the winding staircase. The street door slammed frequently as those living hugger mugger, having made their morning ablutions, set off to work.
She threw an arm over her face, shielding her eyes from light streaming in through her narrow window, but even that limb felt leaden. Bella’s legs were worse, her knee and hip joints screamed from overuse while her feet were throbbing as insistently as when she’d slipped off her dancing shoes the…
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Last week the Publisher of TedBook sent out the following letter to a recent guest author:
Today we received the following reply:
Her first assignment starts January 14th… Stay Tuned…
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Recent Posts by Miss Grace…
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I thought my friends at yeah write.me would like to meet the new Foreign Correspondent at TedBook. She leaves next week for a country not many Americans have visited. We are looking forward to her reports… internet availability willing. Here’s a few pics of past travels…
Near the end of the Zoom class, Sadie took a sip of her white zin and said to her friends, ” I don’t know what to do with this assignment.”
“What is it?”
I’ve gotta write a flash fiction using the word Hinterland, no idea what that means.”
“You’ve a dictionary, right?”
“Oh for God’s sake, Beth, ask Alexa, Sadie.”
“No Google it,” chimed in Marcie.
“No, no ask Siri.”
“Please, Donna, Siri doesn’t know everything.”
“I think maybe a movie,” offered Betty.
“Sammi’s here, I’ll ask her.”
Want to take part in the WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT#166? Write a story or poem with just 87 words, no more no less, and send it to Sammi Cox.
Early one morning, a girl is in the kitchen…
“Sally, what language, that’s not lady like.”
“Well, I’m not a lady yet.”
“With talk like that you never will be. Why are you up so early and what’s the problem, honey?”
“I was hungry. I put my raisin bread in and I can’t get it out. It’s stuck and I want it.”
“I thought I smelled something. Did you lift the lever up-and-down?”
“Why would I do that?”
“That’s how you get it to pop up.”
Little Sally flicks the lever…
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I think this is an excellent story, for many reasons. I wanted to share it.
“Sally! I’m going to paddle your bare bottom if you don’t play fair.”
Little Sally rolled her eyes, which put Mother into even more of a tizzy.
“Don’t you put on an air with me, Sally, give Bobby back that pear right now.”
Bobby and Little Sally had been playing Fruit Stack when Mother saw her sneak one of Bobby’s game pieces.
Little Sally muttered something under her breath like “Such a flair for the dramatic, don’t be so square.”
Bobby heard her and his eyes bugged out big time.
Mother heard her too. “Fruit Stack is over, young lady!!!”
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Here was the challenge posed by weejars
I am not a
poet rhymer, but her words caught my attention, so I hope that Sarah does not mind if I used her words to write a story instead.
I went to Amsterdam with my sister Marja in search of a windmill but didn’t see any.
I take that back. I did see a nice one at the Rijksmuseum.
Crispina Kemp has a fun challenge for writers each week. Her instructions are fairly simple: Every Wednesday I post a photo (this week it’s that one above.)
You respond with something CREATIVE
- Your creative offering is indeed yours
- Your writing is kept to 150 words or less
In case you think this story is familiar, it is, as is the photo prompt. A blast from the past. Thanks again, Randy and Rochelle. Here is a link to the other stories prompted by this photo, some new and some old, like mine… Friday Fictioneers
THE TRESPASSERS… A Drabble for FriFic
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A telephone rings on Chicago’s Northside…
“Hi, Cheryl, you used to teach swimming, I’ve a question.”
“I’m all ears, Ethel. Why do you ask?”
“You know how Betty got me started being a fiction writer, my blog? Whadda call the animal strokes?”
“Oh yes, your blog. I haven’t seen much writing there lately, thought you gave that up.”
“Writer’s block. Betty sent me the latest photo prompt by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, there’s a picture of this woman swimming also. Story!”
“Not that one.”
“No, isn’t there a frog one?”
“The breast stroke is also called the frog kick, Ethel.”
“Great! Perfect title too.”
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Betty tells me that Ethel is busy writing her first Friday Fictioneers story, but she’s having trouble sticking to the 100 word limit. If you want to write a story, everything you need to know is in the photo below, I think that may have been the one Ethel saw. The official prompt photo is at the top of this page, please use that one for your story.
I rarely reblog stories… I love this one and wanted to share it with my friends who like good stories.
So, a hammer walks into The Nutz & Boltz Tavern after a tough day on the job site.
The bartender leans over the bar. “What’ll it be, Hambo?”
“Gimme a Rusty Nail, Mack,” he replied. “And keep ’em comin’!”
“Rough day, huh? You look beat.” Mack observed as he built Ham’s drink.
Ham tried to shrug his steel shoulders. “Naaah. I’ll be alright after I pound a few of these down.”
Mack nodded. “That’s what you do best, buddy!”
The bartender’s sharp wit was never wasted on Hambo, and the two shared a hardy laugh.
Pretty soon, a nail saunters in to the same tavern. Seeing Hambo in her regular barstool, she opts for a seat at the other end of the bar. The little nail didn’t want any trouble.
“Be right back, Hambo.”
Mack swaggered toward his new patron. “Well, hello, Naylene…”
“Uh, h-h-hi, Mack.” Naylene stammered. His penetrating gaze and sleek, cunning…
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