"i would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, i would send other words to tell..." - richard wright
welcome
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
Thursday, September 30, 2010
illumined
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
spiffed
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Roo dabbed some powder on her nose. Still in the parking lot, she was waiting for Lonestar's Already There to end. With a click she shut the compact and tucked it into her purse, humming along. The energy she felt for work now was amazing. She'd been renting a chair in a big salon a few blocks from town square, but the place was the pits. Gossip. Catfights. No one hired to sweep up or wash towels. Most nights Roo was the last to leave. Even the owner would take off early, calling to Roo, "Thanks, hun!" Roo left exhausted, only to do it all again the next day. Until February.
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On Valentine's Day, her husband Burt took her out to dinner and then, on the way home, pulled into this very lot. She'd made a joke about parking. He'd laughed and leaned in to kiss her, but only once before pulling her out of the car into chilly night air. When they were front and center to the building he'd hollered "Okay!" His buddy Frank, who'd been waiting to turn on the porch light, flipped the switch. "Happy Valentine's Day, Ruby Marie," he'd whispered in her ear. She'd been in heaven ever since. Long hours and sore feet as an investment in your own place is a real pleasure.
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She chuckled, wishing again that he hadn't painted it brown. New paint was already stashed in the back room, but she was gonna wait another month or two so as not to hurt his feelings. No matter. It might be beige on the outside, but inside, from nine to six-thirty Tuesday through Saturday, the place was abuzz with color: Palest Pink, Fire Engine Red, St. Patty's Green, Jack-O-Lantern. Bright smiles, good music, and laughter. The song ended and Roo hopped out of the car. Time to start the day!
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Click on comments below to share your story, poem or creative non-fiction response to the photo.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
imbued
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It didn't help that Austin was in a record breaking drought when our moving van rolled into town, that we spent our first few months here watching our grass die, our trees wilt and every green plant in the the neighborhood turn brown. It didn't help that Halloween day dawned too warm for me to wear my long sleeved black jack-o-lantern t-shirt. We did have - oh - a full five minutes of snow. Once. Not long before Christmas. When the leaves were bright yellow, orange and red and only just getting around to contemplating their dramatic little swan dives. Just before Christmas. Right around Hannukah. Pulling out the rake. Did I mention?
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To see a smattering... just a few... gorgeous fallen leaves yesterday was a happy surprise. Maybe this year's weather and lack of drought is the difference. Or maybe my heart is opening to my wonderful not-so-new city and I simply had the eyes to see the first fallen beauties this year. Regardless, it's September for another day or two and Austin's autumn is right on time.
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come write with me? story, poem, creative non-fiction or simply just your description of how fall is unfolding where you are. click on comments below to share. i love to read your work!
Monday, September 27, 2010
tasted
Sunday, September 26, 2010
rested
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Friday, September 24, 2010
secluded
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Kate lets go of Sam's hand and runs down the path to the beach. He watches as she stretches out her arms to the sky in a yoga pose - some kind of sun worship dealie - he can't remember what it's called. She spots something in the distance and calls out to him, throwing a huge grin over he shoulder and admonishing him to hurry up already. He used to love her exuberance, her childlike ability to play and to enjoy every moment of the day. Six years later, though, he hates admitting to himself that it's wearing kind of thin. Lately it feels like they're stuck together on some kind of relationship teeter totter. The happier Kate gets, the lower Sam sinks into despair. Like today, he can't see what's so lovely about the beach. It's gray and cloudy and the sky is going to flipping rain all over their plans for the afternoon. But there she is acting like a preschooler itching for her teacher's approval. Otherwise why would she be doing sun poses and pointing at what is probably a run of the mill seagull or a dime a dozen parasailer? "Okay, already," he grumbles as his feet crunch to the place where rocky path meets sand. Yes, I see you. Aren't you the adorably cute one, he wants to yell at her. Maybe loud enough to blow that bright smile off her face. Then, in the next breath he remembers that he loves her. He loves her. So, coming up beside her, he forces his voice to a brittle, "I'm here, already. What's the big deal?" She squeals and claps her hands, pointing at the sky again. He follows her gaze, gasping when he sees it. He takes her hand and squeezes it. "Never, in a million years..." he whispers.
