June 23, 2015–Prompt- A Small group of people who meet in secret at regular Intervals

There is a small group of people that meet in secret

Knock knock

“Who’s there?”


“Wilbur who?”

“Wilburn your ass if you don’t let me in.”

The hinges creaked as the door opened onto a large medieval hall. Helmets and shields decorated the walls. Candles were the only lights.

“Welcome your Majesty, your throne is ready.”

He walked past a dozen people and took his place at the focal point of the room.

“What is on the agenda this time?” He asked the Prime Minister.

“We need to decide if we should fund the collapse of the World Bank.”

“What good will it do us?”

“We will be the richest people in the world.”

“But if everyone is poor, what fun is it to be rich?” asked the king.

“The fun will come in when we see the population scramble to survive and eat each other.”

“Great, let’s do it, that sounds good.”

“Only one problem,” chimed in another voice.


“Who will serve us and cook for us?” asked the Prime Minister.

“We’ll just keep some staff fed and healthy. We’ll only take care of the people that we need. I, the king degree that this is what we will do.”

“And so it will be,” shouted the assembly in unison.


By Ellynore Seybold-Smith


George couldn’t believe it. Where had the five years gone. It was time for the gathering of the Merciless Meanderers again. He wonder if the five others in the group would have meandered the way their bylaws said they should.

He had tried hard, but every time he set out on a trip something seemed to interfere. Last month when he took his RV on the road he was only 20 miles from home when the engine overheated and he spent all the free time he had with a mechanic.

The bylaws emphasized that can’t call it meandering unless you covered at least 50 miles and in a five year period you were supposed to travel at least 5500 miles. He thought he wasn’t going to make that goal this year and would have to leave…no not leave he would be banished from the group.

They didn’t call themselves Merciless Meanderers because it sounded good.

How had he fallen so low. @0 years ago he had received the Golden Meanderer Trophy. He had traveled 100,000 miles in the five year period. Now he would be ostracized

By Chris Howard

June 16, 2015–Prompt–Bomb Shelter

Write on the Edge Prompt 6-16-2015

(this weeks prompt was a pick six it went thus: Your character enters a bomb shelter, he sees a fire extinguisher on the wall someone else enters and there is the smell of fresh air.


The day started out well – the usual for a summer day in Yuma. Hot! Very Hot!

Most Yuman’s have discovered it is best to do outside work early in the summer, the earlier the better. Gramps was born and raised in the desert, growing up well before AC was the norm. He appreciated the cool morning air provided by Mother Nature.

At 72, Gramps had a long list of projects to finish. His forgetfulness and gnarled hands keep him from scratching many from his list.

Today he was determined to clean out the old family shelter. Built during the cold war era; the shelter was a subterranean structure in the corner near the herb garden.

Opening the door, Gramps reached up and flicked on the power switch to active the air pumps and lights. Bent over with broom and dustpan in hand, he slowly made his way down the steps and into the bowels of the 8’ by 8’ shelter.

He was not prepared for the sight before him. At the foot of the stairs was a pile of loose soil. It was damp and rich in humus. It gave off a musky odor. Gramps was completely dumbfounded.

He searchingly looked around the walls. He looked up and down, side to side. There. There was something down by the storage units on the West wall. A lone fire extinguisher was dangling from a loose bracket. The screw holes were enlarged and crusted with dirt. There, going down from the bracket a termite mud tube.

He did not like what he saw. There were termites here, and another thing to add to his list.

By JoAnne Mowczko

May 26, 2015 Prompt–Teacher of the Tested

Teacher of the tested

There are many tests around.  Some you sit down and take in a classroom setting.  But the most interesting and most valuable are the tests we must pass in life.

I see the first and most important one is learning to breathe.  Woe to those who fail that one.

Another test is learning to walk.  I partially failed it by falling down the stairs on my first solo outing.  It was several months before I was  brave enough to try again.  And then it was to get to my Daddy.  I was a little leery of Mom as she let me fall, or so I thought.

From then on I needed expert teaching.  My first grade teacher was not a good teacher of the tested as she played a trick on me that I have never forgotten.  On the first day of school she asked if anyone could read, and I could, so up went my hand, she called me up front and handed me a book to read.  She handed it to me so that it was upside down from my viewpoint.  New student, new school, plus no experience made me think I had to read it like it was presented.  Of course I failed.  The class laughed at me.  Teacher just shook her head sadly.  I never raised my hand again until I went to AWC in my late sixties.

That evening my parents were quite puzzled to see me trying to read a book upside down.  Mom just scoffed at my silliness.  Daddy however wanted more details, and was very upset at what had happened to me.  He made my mother call the teacher and ask why the trick.  I never did get along with that teacher and my mother never interfered in my schooling again.  In grade 11 I lost a full four year scholarship to the University of Chicago, because my mother would not talk to my English teacher and the principal.


Valerie Cook

May 12, 2015–Prompt – A Title:The Old Lamp or Thursdays are Always Dark

The Old Lamp or Thursdays are always dark

 How am I going to get sexy this week?

Thursdays are his only day off, that’s when the antique store is closed. The old crystal lamp hanging in the store window is dark. After doing the bookwork for the week, my husband comes home usually around noon. After lunch we enjoy an afternoon delight. I like to spice up our married life by donning a costume and playing a role. A nurse, a naughty French maid or can-can dancer which I’ve used numerous times. I ponder, what will I do this week?

He enters the quiet house. The drapes are drawn and it was dark as night.

“Sit down, start eating,” said a flirtatious voice from the back room.

He did as told. The music started with the sound of Benny Goodman’s clarinet. While he ate, he heard something slither across the floor. He could just make out his wife in a green shiny, clinging outfit with coils of fabric around her legs and arms.

She slithered up to him and gently put her hand on his throbbing…

The end

or beginning?


By Ellynore Sebold-Smith



Charles had been down to the Old Crock Café for his twice a week dining out. It was Thursday and Bonnie was her usual chatty self. As the keeper of the light house, Charles could only take so much conversation and then his cup runneth over.

This Thursday, the topic was Bonnie’s daughter’s upcoming wedding. She would be wearing a blue wedding dress.’ Why? Someone asked. According to Bonnie everyone knew that Laura had been married three times. Jack was lost at sea; Bennie had gone to prison for twenty years, and Jack number two and Bonnie had called it quits.

Bonnie asked, “Charles what would you say to letting Laura and Billy May get married at the light house.” Charles choked on his piece of apple pie and two people ended up pounding on his back.

He finally said, “I don’t think that . . .” and everyone took that for a yes.

Larry the cook said as everyone was heading out the door, “No way, he’s cleaning that lamp every day, all day or there won’t be any light and besides Thursday’s he’ll be here eating.”

But whatever, it was agreed on by everyone else. When Thursday came around most of the town folks were on their way to the light house by noon.

Charles was absolutely shocked when he saw what they were bringing. There were at least three kegs of beer and a full case of Champagne, a cake, sandwiches of every description, and a tub of chips.

The wedding got started late, the judge got lost on the way to the light house. He didn’t arrive until four in the afternoon. By then half of the men were falling down drunk and the women had gone to the top of the light house and were leaning over the railing serenading all who were sober enough to know what was going on. Two of the women had passed out on Charles’ bed. There were men sleeping in the bushes.

By eight that evening Laura and Billy were put in a taxi and someone paid for the trip to an unknown motel in the neighboring town.

Charles had gone for a walk around three and hadn’t come back until ten. The Old Lamp was dark and Thursday would always be a bright day for Charles.

By Harry Ruggles


May 5, 2015 Prompt – A Childhood Piece of Clothing

Your Weekly Writing Prompt – from Writer’s Digest Brian Klems Weekly Prompts:
Childhood Piece of Clothing: You’re rummaging through an old tub of clothes from your childhood that your parents had stored away in their attic. As you search you find one particular piece that you remember as your favorite. When you hold it in your hands, you’re magically transported back to the moment you got that piece of clothing (birthday present, shopping with a parent, purchased with your own money, etc.). Write about that moment and how you felt when you received it.

My New Shirt – A true story

The first day of second grade Mom sent me to school in a brand new bright yellow shirt. At school I met my new teacher and, at recess, went out to play with my new friends.

The bell rang and I ran for the door. Don’t be late on the first day of school! Along the way I tripped over something and fell, crashing into a cement wall. I got up, my forehead torn and bleeding, but made it to class on time. The teacher walked up, cussed me out for bleeding all over her floor and sent me home.

When I got home the yellow shirt was now a dark red, soaked in blood. I walked through the front door, into the living room, and presented myself to my mother. I will never forget her words. “Oh my God Kevin. What did you do to your shirt?” She hustled me out the door and onto the front porch, so that I wouldn’t bleed on the carpet, and rescued the shirt off my back. The shirt was rushed to the bathroom, rinsed, and left to soak in cold water.

By Kevin Draper



There was always too much memorabilia in Granny’s house. “What will become of it when she dies?” Mildred asked herself.

Granny had such a large inherited house with the infamous spooky attic. Every room was brimming with sentimentality.

One afternoon, Mildred told her nine year old, “pack up your stuff, we are driving to Granny’s because she doesn’t answer her phone.”

She was met with a shock at the front door because the door was unlocked. Mildred could only push it open an inch with all the stacks of magazines and sentimental clutter.

“Granny, Granny,” she yelled, “are you there?”

Mildred knew the back porch would be more approachable. She ran to the back, on a narrow sidewalk that separated the close built houses from one another. The daylight was giving way to dusk. Mildred whipped out her flashlight as she approached the back steps. She saw something out of the corner of her eye. It was Granny’s little red apron. On instinct Mildred shined the light a little higher that lead to Granny’s lifeless face.

Years go by and all the memorabilia has been reduced to a computer memory stick of pictures.

Mildred was my mom and I was with her that night of granny’s shocking death. It was a defining moment for a nine year old. I kept the little red apron in a special little box. I open the box and it still has an odor that is reminiscent of Granny. I feel bitter sweet sensations shroud over me even after sixty years.

By Carol Christel-Taylor

April 28, 2015–Prompt

This week we did another pick six prompt. For it our character was a traveling salesman, he carries a stuffed toy, a horse. He runs into someone familiar holding the toy out it says. The dice roll was Artificial Intelligence in toasters, definitely a bad idea. The group weren’t fond of that so another roll of the dice got us “Okay, I need another strand.”

Although most went with the second line of dialogue I told them they could use first one if they wanted.


Sales Guy, Chapter Three

By Lloyd Rain, 4/28/15

(A writing exercise during a Write-On-The-Edge meeting;

To be read with all the gusto and excitement of an eight-year-old announcing his grade school basketball game.)


Sales Guy had his own jet ̶ two of them, in fact ̶ silver and red F-80 fighters from the Korean era . He had just taken off from the Strand Airport in Oshkosh, Illinois, on his latest refrigerator sales mission when his engine began to rumble, a sure sign that it was starving for air.

“Strand Tower, Stand Tower; this is Sales Guy One returning to the field. Please tell my guys to warm up Sales Guy Two, I need another horse.”

“Roger.” Replied the tower, “Ten four.”

Sales Guy landed his ailing number one without incident and speedily taxied to his hangar. In a matter of less than a minute, he had abandoned Sales Guy One, and in the age old tradition of the Pony Express rider switching horses on the run, was taxiing out onto the live runway in Sales Guy Two.

Again, his engine began to rumble. “Damn,” he thought, “Maybe it’s the airport air, I think I need another Strand.”

Just then, his engine caught again. He rapidly took off and lofted his craft into the blue for another exciting sales call.

So ends Chapter Three in the inspiring and mysterious life of (music up, kliegs dim, lightning snaps, babies cry, sirens wail) Sales Guy.


A To I Salesman


Morrie was having a good day. He’d made three sales calls and all three had purchased the new super-duper automated toaster. He’d also got several leads from these customers he’d sold the Genie Pop-up Automated Two, too.

His company A to I appliances had just come out with this new model and were having a special contests for their entire sales staff. The grand prize was an all-expense paid seven day – eight night trip to Hawaii for two.

Morrie had always dreamed of going to Hawaii, but as a salesman he had a difficult time selling enough product to afford his modest home and the only vacations he had were he and the wife’s road trips to her parents every summer. They had a place on a lake and it wasn’t grand but nice and always a change from their tiny bungalow in the city. The in-laws place was in no way Hawaii. Besides for once it would be nice to have a week where his mother-in-law was reminding him what a poor provider he was and how her daughter had married down.

“Josie,” he said to the small stuffed horse he carried in the pocket of his plaid sport coat, “you must be my good luck charm because having you with today seems to have increased my sales volume. I’m up 300 percent from last week.”

Morrie thought he heard a quiet neigh. He shook his head. “No way that’s possible. Unless?” He looked around maybe there was a horse in the vicinity. While he was searching the area who should he see coming down the street but Mrs. Cora Harper. Wow, he thought, Mrs. Harper my favorite grade school teacher. She had been his fifth grade teacher and was always kind to him. She never treated him like the poor kid form the wrong side on the tracks like he was.

“Mrs. Harper, Hi, it’s me Morrie James. Remember me?”

The elderly woman lifted her head which seemed too heavy for her spindly neck and stared at him for a long minute. Then she smiled. “Of course, I remember you Morrie. You were a sweet boy always bringing me apples from your family orchard. What are you doing way out here?”

“I’m selling toasters for the A to I Appliance Company. They have a great new model. I’ve sold three today.”

“How wonderful, Morrie, you must be a great salesman.”

Morrie felt the heat rising up his neck and into his cheeks. “Well, I think the difference today is I’ve got my good luck piece with me. With that he pulled the small stuffed horse out of his pocket dropping change all over the ground when he did.  He held it out. “See.”

“Artificial Intelligence in  toasters definitely not a good idea,” came a voice from deep inside the tiny equine toy. Followed by  raucous nickering.


Christine Howard

4-21-2015 – Prompt- The Hallway Was Silent

The hallway was silent.

I looked out around the door from the bedroom to make sure it was empty. I knew the guy with the AK -47 was somewhere in the house looking for me. To live, I needed to see him before he saw me.

I said to myself, “David, you have to make this shot count. You only have one rock for your slingshot.”

Fortunately for me in the next moments, he poked his head around the corner and I nailed Goliath right in the eye with my last rock.

By J. C. Gable


A Utah Winter

The hallway was silent, very different from the mayhem the children usually produced. My daughter Cathy’s favorite game was to run down the hall and execute a summersault and land in the middle of the beanbag chair. I would hold my breath for fear she would smash her head aganst the wall – luckily she never did. The baby tottered  back and forth, laughing the whole time. My teenager sat on the couch clapping at ruckus. I was sure Cathy would be a candidate for the Olympics.

The winter weather and the thought of three sick children with wet feet and fevers, from playing in the snow was more than I could take. Instead I let them wear the hall carpet into shreds’. Kid are kids after all.

Carmel Westerman

April 14, 2015 – Prompt – Your a hoarder describe your compulsion


I collect spiders. Yes, those critters most people hate. I find them fascinating. When I find a spiderweb outside I sit and watch it until I see a bug get caught. Then wait for the spider to suck the juice out of it. After that I carefully transfer the flowerpot or whatever the web is attached to, into the house. One time I had a black widow couple. After they mated for hours she ate him. Soon out of the eggs dozens of babies appeared.

The hardest job was attracting flies to keep them fed. A piece of rotten meat in the living room did that job. That was fine until the meat crawled off in the form of maggots. It almost made it out of the open door, but was stopped by the five tarantulas I have living under my bed.

No one understands the thrill I get when one or more of those beautiful, bulky spiders crawls over my naked body at night. The more I learn to love spiders, the less I like people.


Ellynore Seybold-Smith

April 7, 2015–Prompt Write a Cinquain–use the words- lilac,quiet & swing



bushes blooming…

Quiet explosion of

dawn swings across the April sky–


Jeanne Browning


Spring Time

scent of lilacs

while I sit here and swing

nothing interrupts this quiet space.

Ah peace!

Chris Howard



Quiet passing

Swing from winter to spring

My yard wakes up from it’s slumber

Oh spring


Purple and white

Blossoms ruffled by breeze

Spring has sprung brings about new life

What fun

Carol Bouchard



Seeing, smelling

Fragrance on quiet wind.

Lilacs purple, white, lavender


Carol Bouchard



Pretty Woman

Peace, quiet

The band starts up

Rock and roll fills the air

Come on, lovely little Lilac

Let’s swing

Kevin Draper


Saddle Up

Leg over

Kickstand goes up

The V-twin cranks, pipes roar

Smile on my face, fire in my eyes

Let’s ride!

Kevin Draper



A gust of Spring

Sneezing, Wheezing, Coughing

A walk to the lawn SWING, QUIET


Carol Taylor



QUIET breezes

Explosion of color

Green lawn SWING with puffy pillow

Spring’s here

Carol Taylor



smelling lilacs

sneezing, blowing, wheezing

noisy, very loud!

Pamela Carvajal Drapala


March 10, Prompt–A Twinkle in an Eye

This week’s prompt was about a twinkle in the eye. Start with it and then write it. As can be seen it can take writer’s in very different ways.

 pam's Angel

Twinkling Eyes

Long ago, I looked into an angel’s twinkling eyes

To see what the future would bring

Only to see that life evolves from birth, to childhood, to teens.

From there is adulthood then finally old age

Nothing to be afraid of;

For when you survive those days

One can reminisce about one’s past and one’s loved ones,

The journey that God intended for all of us

By Pam Drapala


Ode To A Very Short Love Affair

Twinkle, Twinkle gorgeous eye.

Oh how I wish that you could spy

On me each morn when we arise

And through the day together we fly

Until the day when we do die

I’ll not forget your darling eye

Only, only if your eye didn’t lie

Smack in the middle of your forehead — Bye.

By Lloyd Rain