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

Friday, August 6, 2010


readers and writers, it's friday!  thanks to Pauline, FilmGuy and De Langer for yesterday's great writing.  one of my favorite days so far.
today's photo prompt wasn't an easy "get," as king recycling doesn't stand still very long for commoners to take his photo.  here's what the photo calls up for me, a bit of memoir:

Of all my school years, third grade was sublime. My best friend lived just down the street. Together we were note-writing spys, galloping, carrot-eating horses, and (our favorite) good witch Barbies. Weekends were for sleepovers, gooey brownies from her Easy Bake Oven, and watery snow cones from her Snoopy Cone Machine. We'd stay up until three a.m., if need be, to catch Grease (again) on cable TV, watching with equal parts awe and confusion as Sandy wooed Danny with tight leather pants; we thought Sandy looked so much better before the big makeover. On summer nights we'd play until it was just a smidge lighter than too dark to see. We were even lucky enough to share the same sweet, diligent teacher.  Her name was Mrs. S. and she let us lay our heads on our desks while she read to us after recess; she cried through the sad parts of Where the Red Fern Grows and often turned the reading over to me while she dabbed at her eyes with a kleenex. But on Friday afternoons I didn't like Mrs. S. or my best friend so very much. I dreaded the Friday treasure sale, when kids could purchase chachkis (brought in from Mrs. S's own house) with good behavior tickets doled out to us through the week: a Precious Moments statue, a candle holder, a hand crocheted potholder. Lesser ticket items were available too - boring old pencils, erasers and, better than nothing, hard candy. My best friend always, always had more tickets. She just wasn't a talker and her desk was very tidy. She was a master at delay of gratification, saving up for weeks at a time to buy the biggest, most wonderful fifty ticket treasure. But my sadness faded with the ringing of the last bell. After all, the weekend was coming, and there was too much fun to be had to waste time on pouting.

I'd love to read your spin on the photo.  Publish it below by clicking on comments.  250(ish) words or less.  Happy Friday - and may the fifty ticket item be yours. 


  1. “So what would a recycling super hero do Mom?” asked Jimmy.

    “Well he could start by cleaning up his room!” said Mary hopefully but laughing.

    “Seriously? Mom? Do you really think so?” asked Jimmy in an exasperated tone.

    “OK. I’ll be serious. He could bring the polluters to justice.” said Mary.

    “What’s a polluter? It sounds like an alien.”

    “Well, a polluter is someone who dumps bad chemicals into the rivers or who buries dangerous toxic stuff in the ground?”

    “What’s toxic?”

    “Toxic, is like poison.”

    “Oh…” said Jimmy, thinking about all this.

    “They are people who don’t care about what they do,” continued Mary, “they just do what they want and don’t care if they are destroying the planet or killing people who live on it.”

    Jimmy’s eyes lit up. “They are killing the planet!? So they ARE like aliens. Aliens are always trying to destroy planets and try to kill everyone on it and blow it up and stuff!!”

    Mary smiled as she watched Jimmy process all this information. She could see the beginning of a new game that would last the day, it may even last the weekend.

    Her heart filled with love for her boy, her sweet, caring boy. She hugged him and started to clear away the breakfast things.

    “I will save the planet!!” said Jimmy as he ran out to the yard, looking for someone to save.

  2. I didn't have "zing" moment where some creative story burped out of me, but I have to say... how can you not smile looking at this. There is a joy in life when you can happily spend hours taping boxes to your body to become a "robot" or "warrior". A time when you will proudly stand in front of mommy so she can commemorate the moment and you never once think... jeez, I hope my future girlfriend never sees this. I would love to know what he looks like to himself... in his inner eye. How powerful or strange... protected or fierce? Would you go home tonight and tape old boxes onto you so you could play? I double dog dare ya.

    Its like a whole new land
    with billions of boxes
    of all different sizes
    with all kinds of foods inside
    zillions of flavors and textures galore
    but most importantly....
    The colors, the sizes, the OPTIONS
    what to do with the boxes
    now THAT is what's fun
    you can rip off the ends
    and build towers or cars
    you can build a spaceship
    or an alien from mars
    such fun in the pantry.
    i have so many ideas
    come see me tomorrow
    and i might have some more!!