February 21,2017 – Prompt -It Seemed Like a Good Idea Yesterday


I got the idea in the evening while I was half intoxicated, but now in the bright daylight and suffering a hangover, I have second thoughts.

I wander through the empty house feeling sorry I did not get up in time to kiss my husband good-bye before he left for work. He too was enthusiastic about the idea and promised to do research into the matter. I’m sure he’ll come home this evening and not say a word about it. The crazy ideas I get when I’m full of sweet wine

I go about the day moving slowly to begin with, but by the afternoon I’m ready to cook a special meal. I set the table with the good china and sterling and light some candles. Soft music fills the room and I put on a special dress. After all these years, I’m still my husband’s girlfriend.

The car pulls into the driveway and my husband rushes into the house, his face glowing. He hugs me and lifts me off my feet.

“I did what you suggested,” he said all excited. “I went and bought an elephant. He will be delivered tomorrow.

Ellynore Smith
Yesterday I was brilliant. I felt like I could make no mistakes or errors. I shone like a star.
I got this wonderful idea on how to repair and remodel my house. It would make everything simple and quick. I could have it finished in a week instead of six to eight months.

I was so excited and went right to work. Fixing this and replacing that. Moving along at a rapid pace until one of my tools short circuited my electric panel. Oh-Oh no new fuses. But I do have a penny. I unscrewed the old fuse, popped the penny into the socket and re-screwed the old fuse back into the panel. It worked great. I kept on rolling along. Getting all kinds of projects going and finishing up on others.

I was starting to get hungry when Mom called and asked me to come over for dinner and spend the night. Wow that was a great idea Mom had and I accepted with glee. That way I would have a great dinner and even a clean place to sleep, with a long beautiful soak in Moms whirlpool bathtub as an added attraction.

The next morning I felt like a million bucks. Mom fed me a delicious breakfast, enough to last me all day. And I was to come back this evening for more of her wonderful hospitality. Mom sent me on my way with a full tummy, a full heart, and a mind full of new ideas.

Valerie Cook

February 14, 2017 – Prompt – “And I will come again, my love, tho it were 10,000 miles. “Robert Burns

Brady and Stephanie were neighbors and loved each other it seemed like forever. Their parents didn’t always approve of their relationship and tried to discourage them. Sometimes they would pretend they didn’t like each other just for fun to see what that would be like.
He adored her and she thought him the handsomest person she’d ever seen.
One day the world fell apart for them when Brady’s family moved away. Far away—to Texas. The two were desolate, couldn’t eat or talk. Their families were sure they would get over it in time, but that didn’t happen.
Finally, Stephanie received a letter from Brady for Valentine’s Day. If I am a million miles away from you, it won’t change anything. When I get into 5th grade I will run away and come back to you.

Pinkie Paranya

♥  ♥  ♥  ♥  ♥

It was February 14, 1988, in the heartland of Portland, Oregon when my true love broke his promise to me and shared his dying love.
For years, I grieved in silence not knowing for sure why he left. Until twenty-seven years later, while I lay in deep slumber, he came to me.
“Hi,” he said. A big smile crossed his face. “I’m happy now.”
From my bed, I watched him fade back into eternity. Sleep did not come easy for me the rest of the night. And it would be weeks before I would understand the meaning of his visit.
I would learn the cold, bitter truth a few days before his tenth anniversary, when I clicked open a picture on Facebook and saw his gravesite.
May15, 1952 – December 15, 2004.
Yes, he had traveled ten thousand miles, plus many more, from a place I call Heaven.

Suzie Hagen

November 29, 2016 – Prompt – Think back to your childhood. Write about an article of clothing or outfit you remember one of your parents (or another influential adult figure) wearing.

The outfit/uniform I remember my mother wearing was a dress. Not just any dress but, the ones she made with a fitted bodice with gathered or pleated full skirt, that fell just below the knees. The necklines varied from boat, square, oval, round as well as V neck. Not the cowl, turtle, or high necklines I preferred.

The fabric in those days was cotton, her’s were quite colorful with varied designs: flowers, stripes, plaid, very few plain. This was the code of passage, a real sign of the times.

She would sprinkled these with a bottle that had a stopper fit on the top with holes, not the spray bottles of today. Since we lived in Eastern Oregon, she put the clean sprinkled dresses in large bags. They were stored in the freezer to prevent drying or mildewing. It was my job to iron at least one daily, which was a challenge I enjoyed. Not like at Grandma’s house where I had a whole bag of: hankies , pillowcases, dress shirts, etc., which seemed to take hours to iron when I was in my youth.

I remember a time when I was in high school, mother and a neighbor would bicycle early in the morning  in their dresses. They would try to be earlier than the buses and/ or traffic.

“Are you up advertising this early in the morning?” Dad asked mom.

Carol Bouchard


January 31, 2017 – Prompt – You find an old abandoned graveyard. While taking a closer look at the headstones you recognize one of the names. Who is it?

I stood there in the state of shock. I couldn’t

comprehend what I saw. I know I’m in a cemetery but I don’t remember how I got here.

The last thing I do remember was driving to work and I remember the screech of

tires, the dreadful sound of metal on metal,and then a bright blinding light.

That was the last thing I remember, until now.

Now I’m in a cemetery, standing in front of a tombstone and the name

chiseled on it is my name.

Linda Scott


Lou was raised in an orphanage and like most orphans, she always wondered who her parents were.  When she got older she tried to find out who they were, but the Orphanages were not allowed under the law to give that information to anyone.  When she was 30 years old she found out that that law had changed. The Orphanages now could release the information to any children who requested it.

At age 29 she found out her real name, her parents names, her birthdate and her nationality.  Much to her surprise she found out that she was not French.
She was Italian and her parents emigrated from Italy to the United States as teenagers.  No wonder she loved cooking Spaghetti sauce!

It took awhile, but after a long search she found out that they were both deceased at a young age and buried in an old paupers cemetery outside of New York City.  As soon as she could afford the money for the trip, Lou flew to New York City and went to the cemetery.  She walked all through the graveyard.  It was in disarray, filled with weeds, a dying trees and old tombstones.  She walked all around the graveyard and toward the back found an old crumbling tombstone with a barely legible name and date on it.  Kneeling down she read the name, Francisco Nicosia    1898 – 1916.

Leaning over it she put her arms around the tombstone and wept.

“Hi dad, it’s me.”

Lou never did find her mother.

Jean Dunstan

February 7, 2017 Prompt – “Under my hand the moonlight lay,” from The Dream by Edna St. Vincent Millay

for the next two weeks our prompt responses will be based on a line from a romantic poem

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Under my hand the moonlight lay. It had been that way for just a moment before I heard the soft, but unmistakable sound of a squeaking floor board right behind me. I wheeled around to stare down the barrel of a Colt 45 in the hand of a very nasty looking character.

He grinned as he snarled, “It’s time to pay for all the trouble you’ve caused me.

My cheeks began to pucker.

John Gable

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I watched as the moon sunk into the opalesced surface of the ocean. For a few seconds it had sat as if held up the serenely tranquil sea.

I thought if I were out on the water I could cup my hands and catch the magic as moonbeams spilled into them. Then I would pour it into a bottle, seal it with a cork, take it home and set it on my bedside table. As I slept the magic of its glow would pour into my soul. It would conjure up marvelous dreams. It might reveal the face of my lover. It might tell me the path I must take to find him or it would bring him to me.

I sighed as I watched the light from the glowing orb spread it light on the softly drifting waves until it came to where I stood and washed over my feet.

I made a wish and a promise this night. If the moonlight brought me a lover we would return and be wed as the shone over the waves and blessed us with its radiance.

Christine Howard

January 24,2017 – Prompt -A Ball, a Balloon & a Balustrade

I rested my hand lightly on the balustrade at the edge of a balcony on the 23rd floor of New York’s Essex House Hotel. Across 57th Street the green of Central Park stretched away towards the North. The street sounds were muffled by the sleepy quiet of the spring Sunday morning. They were so muffled that we were even able to hear the “clip-clop” of the carriage horses on Central Park Drive. Up by the center of the park, by the lake, we saw youths playing a game of ‘pick-up’ ball. At the lake’s edge a forlorn child lost his grip on the string holding his helium balloon and it glided off across the tree tops.

I picked up my mimosa and gazed deeply into Mary’s smiling eyes.

“Will you marry me?” I asked.

Bob Kelly