welcome readers & writers! in this cyber space please find: + a photo writing prompt + a place to post your creative writing response (poem, memoir, short story or the like) to the prompt + a community of readers and fellow writers excited to read your writing + morsels of genuine fiction, poetry & creative non-fiction as the blog is updated. share a response as often as you'd like. everyday discoveries from my life, captured on film, will serve as prompts. this is not a place where we will critique one another's work; however, words of encouragement or praise for writers who share their work are most welcome. writers, share your story, poem or creative non-fiction response to the photo by clicking on comments; word count is flexible. cheers! demery

Tuesday, August 31, 2010


welcome readers & writers! thanks to you readers for being such a receptive and supportive audience. and thanks also to FilmGuy and Brian for your peachy posts yesterday :)
here's my spin on today's photo prompt:
no one knows what i want to be for halloween (this week)
or remembers how much the tooth-fairy brought me when my fourth tooth fell out

no one knows exactly what i'm afraid of or just how to use that information
to scare the pants off me when i least expect it

no one knows the name of my favorite lego guy or which one is my best trading
card - the one i'm never, ever going to trade no matter what

no one knows exactly what happened to that baby toy of mine, the one that stopped working not long after i was born, and you weren't so sure about me yet 

no one knows how much fun we have playing our own brand of frisbee outside
or understands the rules, because if it hits that big dark spot on the back fence
you win ten million zillion points (but having points is bad and so you lose)

no one knows just how annoying i can be, how taking my sweet time pouring milk on my cereal in the morning causes you to whine and fuss and throw quite a fit

but no one knows what a comfort i am either, especially when mom and dad go out for the night and a babysitter comes, and i want you to ready my story and not her

no one knows what it's like to live in this exact family, with the same mom and dad
and the same big brother and the same dog in this same house

no one knows quite which is my favorite stuffed animal and to go get him when i get hurt, because he always makes me feel better

no one but you     
i'd love to read your poem, short story or creative non-fiction response to this photo.  250(ish) words or less; send it on in by clicking on comments below. thanks for writing with me!


  1. We’d go down the tracks every summer when we stayed at Grandma’s house. And I remember wondering which brother my parents loved the most. My dad always said he was proud of us both in different ways. I’m not sure I really believed him. I think it was because I was the younger of the two of us. Aaron never thought twice about it. He was always so sure of himself. And there was nothing wrong with him. He was athletic and smart, but I didn’t care about football and only maintained my C average with hard work. I always said the wrong thing and made my sister cry. Aaron never did things like that. So I just figured he was the better one. He was always way ahead of me when we hiked down the tracks to the trestle. When we got there, though, he’d wait for me and we’d walk side-by-side, picking our way over the ties, trying not to look down into the ravine below us. After dinner that night, when we nestled in the big chair with mama before bed, I didn’t have a doubt in my mind. I was her favorite. Even though I wasn’t perfect.

  2. Hi! *waves* Thanks for finding and stopping by my blog today. :) Pleasure to meet you.

    Life is happiest when lived in flip-flops. -The end.

  3. I have never forgotten the day my older brother saved my life. When I was little I loved trains. Big trains. Freight trains. Counting trains. You name it, trains were popular. One day when I was very young, we were at train station. I can’t tell you how young because really, when you are very young you just don’t mark time that way. My memory doesn’t have the nice time stamp saying, I was three… or four. Sometimes you can mark it by some grand family adventure as in… “ when we all went to Disney world in 1977… so I was 12…”. But those early memories are just snap shots of life. Wading in a pond. Chasing kites. Eating pigs in a blanket. Hiding under a piano. The memory is specific, but really could have happened almost any day. I often wonder if the pictures in my mind are of single events or a conglomeration my brain assembled to cope with the wealth of childhood input?

    Back to my life being saved.

    So we are at this train station, running around, staring at the tracks, listening for the train. And then… TOOOOOT… it comes. You can stand at the edge of the station decking and see it. My brother and I leaned out to look for it way down the line. I am sure you thinking this is where I fell onto the tracks, but that didn’t happen. What did happen is that I stood there right at the edge and watched that train. I was entranced. Mesmerized. And suddenly that train was rushing by my face in what felt like inches… and I froze. I have never been so scared, I thought I was going to get sucked in and smashed. I don’t think I was breathing. And then my brother’s hand grabbed my shoulder and jerked me backwards to safety. And we watched the train from several feet away. My parents never knew and my brother never said anything. But I remember looking at him. How he saved me that day.

  4. Cody and I learned how to walk at the same age. We learned how to talk and to read at the same age. Everyone said how proud they were of us, growing up together, side by side, neither of us standing in eachother's shadow. When Cody looked out the door and announced it was a bright, sunny day we both ran to the dresser and put our shorts on, and to the closet to get our flip flops. Out the door side by side, down the street side by side, around the corner side by side, to the old train tracks...Cody pulled ahead of me excited of the possiblities of where those tracks lead. I slowed down and pulled in behind him, remebering the last time we were there and the train came by: loud, thunderous rumbling. "It's OK." He told me. "I'll go first. I've done this lots of times. You just follow me." And so he did, slowly, carefully reaching back his hand a time or two to comfort me. Just before we reached the bridge Cody jumped off the tracks and stopped. I jupped off the tracks and stopped. And there we were side by side again ready to run down the hill and to the lake where grandpa was waithing for us with the fishing boat.