life in a nutshell? that’s really packing it in.
spring is taking a momentary vacation
seagulls circling above. looking for food.
He told her lover, cry me a river. She started to weep, when suddenly it seemed like the dam broke, and all hell broke loose. She just kept crying and crying, and it looked liked it wasn’t going to stop any time soon. Now he wished he never told her to cry.
walking on air. no better feeling.
A hot and sticky night in the city. Nadia’s a/c doesn’t work, so she lay awake all night. She looked at the alarm clock, and saw it was 3:00 a.m., and suddenly she heard a woman screaming loudly, and she decided to look out the window, and saw a man beating an older woman. NadiaContinue reading “3:00 A.M. ~ What She Saw ~ Fiction”
Sun is shining. Birds are happy.
Watching life go by in the rear view mirror.
Since the old gray matter, aka the brain, seems to have gone on vacation. Its drawing blanks, so can’t come up with a scintilla of an idea of what to say, write, type, whatever. How long its going to be away, is anybody’s guess. Just don’t expect any postcards from it, saying wish you wereContinue reading “Write Something”
A hot and humid night in the city. People without a/c, having a hard time trying to get any sleep. Some of them choose to go outside, sitting on the stoops at 3:00 a.m. They see there are quite a few of their fellow citizens, doing the same thing. Talking and watching the few carsContinue reading “3:00 A.M. ~ Quick Fiction”
It’s a feeling Tom relishes in life. Driving on the interstate at 3:00 a.m. He loves the freedom of the open road, considering he is one of the few cars, along with the tractor trailers, doing the long haul. When he is cruising at the set speed control, he pops in one of his favoriteContinue reading “3:00 A.M. ~ Short Fiction”
The strong gusts of wind woke Joann from a sound sleep. She peered at the clock, and it was exactly 3:00 a.m. She got out of bed, and the hardwood floor felt cold. She checked the thermostat, and it was 63 degrees. She turned on the heat, went the bathroom to do her business, andContinue reading “3:00 A.M. ~ Short Fiction”
She’s 88 years old, and she is by all means peaches and cream, with a dollop of whip cream on top.
Even though it is still winter, spring cleaning has begun.
It was one those nights, Ned was tossing and turning, and restless. He looked at the alarm clock, and it read 3:00 a.m. He decided to get up, put his clothes on, grabbed his keys and cigarettes, and went for a walk. The air was warm, and the stars were shining. It felt good toContinue reading “3:00 A.M. – Short Fiction”
The village square is for the most of the time, relatively dead, that you can hear a pin drop on the steel grating. But on this early morning hour at 3:00 a.m., accompanied by a full moon, and a few scattered clouds creeping by, something odd was happening. There were a pack of dogs chasingContinue reading “3:00 A.M. The Village Square -Short Fiction”
A late winter storm, dumping copious amounts of snow on the streets and avenues, in the downtown area. Its 3:00 a.m., not a soul to be seen venturing in the deepening snow. Even the plows are having a hard time keeping the roads cleared. The only places that are still open, are a 24 hourContinue reading “3:00 A.M. Downtown – Short Fiction”
Every morning, at 3:00 a.m., you will find an elderly gentleman, sitting in his favorite booth, having a cup of coffee. He has been patronizing this certain coffee shop, since he retired many years ago from the book editing job, that he had for over 35 years. He usually is the only one there, andContinue reading “3:00 A.M. – A Short Story”
Orbiting the sun for 72 years plus. An experience of many dimensions.
Walking in freshly falling snow. Heavenly.
Watching the canary do his thing.
Gloomy weather casts a weary face.
He’s dancing to the music in his head.
Walking on eggshells. An uncomfortable feeling.
Plodding along like an old ox.
No coffee. No reason staying awake.
Late Sunday morning. Snowflakes descending gracefully.
Power naps. Recharges the low batteries.
Snow, wind, ice. A perfect trifecta.
Brain freeze. Brain cramp. Warped mind.
Its February. Its snowing. Its wonderful.
Soon, better days are coming. Maybe.
Mug of hot coffee. All good.
Cold. Not record cold. Just cold!
The wind tells a unique tale.
Kicking back. Relaxed. Long day, done.
Gazing into space. Contemplating what if.
Another gusty windy day. Oh my.
The canary is tweeting his songs.
Its 4:24 PM, all is good.
Change is good, replied the cashier.
Did you hear? No I didn’t.
Slip, sliding, spinning on the ice.
Pouring rain. Walking outdoors on standby.
Brand new day. Same old shit.
Sunday frame of mind. All good.
2020 finished. Time to move on.
Yesterday’s rain washed the snow away.
“We need to write because so many of our stories are not being heard. Where could they be heard in this era of fear and media monopolies? Writing allows us to transform what has happened to us and to fight back against what’s hurting us. While not everyone is an author, everyone is a writerContinue reading “We Need To Write”
Walking on crunchy snow. Beautiful feeling.
Caught stealing his neighbor’s newspaper, he declared depraved indifference.
Mr Positive debates Mr Negative. Egos clash. Neither comes out a winner. Both egos deflated.
All ye caffeine junkies, drink up, and get wired.
Chasing the American dream. Its elusive.
During his morning stroll, the elderly man is curious, as to how many bricks did they use in making the one block long sidewalk. Maybe one day, he will find the answer, by the tedious task of counting the red rectangular blocks of clay.
Watching a mysterious mystery which in turn is a total mystery to figure out as its a complete and ultimate mystery to seek answers to the mystery of all mysteries
He’s known as the ‘why’ man, for he is always asking the why of everything.
She’s savoring the all around beauty, of the numerous wild flowers.
She lives in a household full of mad, whacked-out people.
Living the life of a nomad.
Her Sunday breakfast special, soupy pancakes.
The daily daydreamers bus has arrived.
Willie and Wilma are at the kitchen table, drinking day-old brewed coffee, and both are wondering why it tastes like shit.
She’s basking in the fake sun, reading fake news, and working on her fake tan.
Delusional thoughts, warped ideas, a mind full of fabrications and he believes, that whatever he says is the truth, when he damn well knows they are lies, bullshit, etc., etc….
She knew the weather is bad, but she was determined to venture out to the bodega, to get milk, as she had none left. Bundled up, she encountered white out conditions, and soon enough, she got disoriented, and didn’t know where she was. The next morning her son woke up, and his mother was notContinue reading “Short Story”
Agnes, the goddess of children’s story telling.
If you tell a true story, you can’t be wrong. -Jack Kerouac
he awoke around 2:00 am and he couldn’t get back to sleep he decided to thrown on some clothes and take a walk the air was warm and it made him feel good ambling on down the street he sees two women in black heels totally naked standing at the corner as he approached theyContinue reading “Short Story”
Sam was in his glory, as the woman behind the counter, gave him a bag of day old muffins and doughnuts. She also filled his thermos with fresh brewed coffee. Sam is homeless, and has no job. He forages in the dumpsters for returnable cans and bottles, which keeps him busy. Now he is thankfulContinue reading “Quick Fiction”
She said, your hearing me, but not listening. He said, oh.
He never does what the play book says to do. Just wings it, and hopes for the best out come.
He: Did he do it? She: What did he do? He: I’m asking you, did he do it? She: What did he do? He: You know what he did. She: I have know idea what you are talking about. He: I think you do. She: You think, but you don’t know for sure. He; Well,Continue reading “100 Word Story”
Everybody has a story to tell Whether its fiction or reality interesting humorous or boring we should all give it a listen as we may learn something new and it might give the teller a stronger voice Yes we all are story tellers
The reporter for the local newspaper, fueled with excessive amounts of caffeine, is typing away like a mad man. His editor loves his work, even though he his in his own world, no one dares to tell him to slow down. The reason is, that a colleague told him to take a break, and thatContinue reading “Deadline ~ A 100 Word Story”
She sleeps soundly on a mattress filled with stiff straw.
He said, “Oh shit.” She told him to watch his mouth. So for the rest of the day, he looked into the hand held mirror, never to put it down.
Standing under the spreading maple tree, he is fretting, and mumbling, as what he will say, to his long lost daughter. It’s been at least 10 plus years, that they had any contact. She finally showed up, and it was an awkward feeling. A few minutes passed by, and the angst he was feeling wasContinue reading “100 Word Story”
By day, he lives the life of a monk. In the evening, a con artist, is his vocation.
The young couple, love dancing in the rain.
Joel would do anything, to see his long, lost love. He would walk bare foot on hot coals, a bed of nails or a flooded street. She meant so much to him, but he could not understand why she refused to see him. He would give it one more try and talk to her andContinue reading “100 Word Story”
On almost any given night, the insomniacs congregate at the mid-town diner, with cups of coffee to discuss the different reasons, of the whys they cannot sleep.
Preaching to the choir for harmony.
The green look on his face says, he had something to eat, that certainly did not agree with him. Hello bathroom.
The jury’s back. Not looking good.
Moaning and groaning is his calling.
He and she, will never see eye to eye, and it will always be like that.
A nightmare on 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
His breath wreaks of cheap booze.
His boat doesn’t sail on water.
His mind is filled with impure thoughts, accompanied with lust in his heart and loins.
Snake oil salesmen, awash in Washington.
Sign adhered on the merchant’s door says, “Gone fishing for fish, for my favorite aunt’s dinner.” “Wish me luck.”
He and she, will forever be.
On a beautiful warm day, he decides to go outside, and sits himself down on the stoop. He takes out his blues harp, and plays some down home blues. Some of the passersby stop to watch him, and love what they are hearing. That makes him a very happy guy.
The moon is dark. The wolves are quiet. Makes for an eerie feeling.
He is the man who never plans for anything. Just wings it, and he is fine with that.
Only the brave will walk in the darkness of a dense forest, and will come out unscathed.