U is for Unique

For the second year I decided to participate in the A-Z Blogging Challenge.  Each April bloggers write for 26 days (Sundays off). Each day is a consecutive letter of the alphabet.

 

Today is April 24th    and the Unusual   letter U

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original photo of the bench

 

The description on the back cover of my collection of poetry and very short fiction starts with:

Using in a unique style of storytelling that sets the tone for the book, the first entry tells a bench’s 60 year history in six stanzas of 100 words each.

In fact each stanza is composed of 100 words and this method of storytelling is called a drabble.

When I drafted my description I sent it to several people. Most agreed that the word “drabble” should not be included as it wouldn’t appeal to readers.

My preferred method of storytelling is the drabble – sort of addicted to the form.

I wrote the first piece in the book called “The Bench” quite a while before the idea of publishing occurred to me. When I did decide to publish I needed a name for the book. And since I had good photos to highlight the bench and since I believe this is one of the best pieces I’ve written I called the collection The Bench.

One of my reviewers had this to say

 The title story will draw you in, as she ponders the life, the evolution, the thoughts and feelings, of a park bench over the years. I was impressed with the idea of studying an object we often take for granted from its perspective as the world moves around it. Change is a constant in life, but how would something like a bench deal with that? What are the ups and downs it would experience? What would it witness as it stayed in one place while the rest of us scurried about on our quest for happiness, for love, for death?

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Utterly unwinding with your universal entries

Have you ever written a story or a poem about an inanimate object ?

 

 

 

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T is for Truth

For the second year I decided to participate in the A-Z Blogging Challenge.  Each April bloggers write for 26 days (Sundays off). Each day is a consecutive letter of the alphabet.

Today is April 23rd   and the Truthful   letter T (appropriate)

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Two Haiku from The Bench. The collection contains a lot of Haiku

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Google Image

 

Truth I

 Blue green brown, small large

your eyes are windows of soul

truth displayed within

Truth II

Eyes sightless sometimes

unbelievable beheld

open mind will see truth

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tripping off to read your Tantalizing Tidbits

I find Haiku easy but can’t rhyme to save my soul

 

S is for the Spell

For the second year I decided to participate in the A-Z Blogging Challenge.  Each April bloggers write for 26 days (Sundays off). Each day is a consecutive letter of the alphabet.

Today is April 22nd   and the Social   letter S

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Another flash fiction piece inspired by a prompt

The Spell

Smoke from the flames curled and twisted in the breeze. The three witches gathered around the cauldron. Sarah peered up at the sparks, her red hair in perfect waves down her confident back. Emily’s brows furrowed, she bit her lip. Young Helen hopped from foot to foot running her fingers through her short black strands.

“What if it does not work?” Helen asked.

“It has to work,” said Emily.

“It will work,” said Sarah..

Clouds amassed, orange rippled across the horizon. They raised their faces to the dripping sky. The spell succeeded. The arid ground received the nourishment prayed for by the townspeople. There would be a harvest this year.

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Surely looking forward to reading your Snippets

I may have asked this already – have you ever written to a prompt?

R is for Roses

For the second year I decided to participate in the A-Z Blogging Challenge.  Each April bloggers write for 26 days (Sundays off). Each day is a consecutive letter of the alphabet.

Today is April 21st   and the Reliable   letter R

Roses Are Red is the poetry section of The Bench   the section contains eight poems, four of which I am highlighting in this challenge

photo by author

 

When I was organizing which pieces should go into the collection I realised that I couldn’t use section headers such as: poetry, drabbles, double drabbles, flash fiction, fiction etc. Too boring. I asked a poet friend for suggestions. I mainly needed help for the narrative poems I wished to include. His comments got the creative juices flowing. Roses are Red is for poetry. I guess I did a pretty good job since a friend took the book to her writing group to use as a model for their anthology 😀

 

   Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Sugar is sweet,

And so are you

 

Hopefully my poems have more depth than the example (my reviewers thought so anyway) but I decided it was a good section title.

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Really Reading your R posts

It will be quite a while before the roses bloom here. How’s your garden doing?

Q is for Queer

For the second year I decided to participate in the A-Z Blogging Challenge.  Each April bloggers write for 26 days (Sundays off). Each day is a consecutive letter of the alphabet.

Today is April 19th   and the quirky   letter Q

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Photo by Author

This story was inspired by someone I met when I volunteered at the local AIDS committee.

Revelation

Terry chooses an isolated chair and sits.

Just as the speaker enters the room so do a few other participants; one of the fellows sits down next to him. Terry averts his eyes.

The presenter introduces herself as Cass. She seems at home in her skin, smiles a lot and gives the impression people can talk to her.

“Since it’s the first meeting for this group, we’re going to do a few exercises and games to help everyone get to know each other. We’re all here not to judge but to help, however we can.”

That sounds good. I like that. She looks like she means it too. As the staffer discusses the problems gay youth face, Terry’s body relaxes. When he had entered the room his palms sweated and his legs trembled. He knew he had been nervous about this meeting, his first, a group called Open Closet, sponsored by the local GLBT organization. He had always believed he was alone in his feelings and desires toward men. He had always felt he was different. At a few points in the presentation he exchanges looks with the guy next to him and it feels okay.

After the break, he takes a good look at his neighbour. Wow is he ever cute and he smells good too like a … cinnamon candy bar. He doesn’t look gay, not with those muscles and wavy brown hair.  He could pass for straight. Yet here he is.

During one of the exercises, Cass asks, “Who has a girl friend or boy friend?” A couple of the guys raise their hand and one of the women.  Terry hears a “whew” from his neighbour and chuckles. Bet he’s relieved he’s not the only one with a girl friend. Two years ago I had a girl friend too.  Cass then asks, “How does that make you feel?” One of the girls said it made her feel like a phony.  The cute guy next to him nods his head in agreement. After that Terry notices the fellow take some deep breaths and his posture relaxes.

The afternoon consisted of a bunch of exercises, skits and games. As Terry becomes more comfortable within the group, the bundle in his mind finally opens and he can breathe.

At the end of the session, as the two young men prepare to leave, “cutie” turns to Terry, “You did good there with those exercises.”

Terry jerks like a puppet on a string, “Uh, thanks, will you be here for the next meeting on Wednesday?”

The other fellow struggles to get his backpack on; his hair falls onto his forehead but he doesn’t push it back even though it hides his eyes.. “Yes I will and I hope you are too.”

“I will be here for sure – see you then!”

Terry flies down the stairs and out the door to catch his bus. He feels a huge smile break out on his face.

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Quickly reading your Q posts

Wouldn’t it be nice if life worked out the way we wanted it to? Especially for those we care about

P is for the Path

For the second year I decided to participate in the A-Z Blogging Challenge.  Each April bloggers write for 26 days (Sundays off). Each day is a consecutive letter of the alphabet.

Today is April 18th   and the problematic  letter P

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this poem from The Bench was a collab between me and a writing buddy.

Google Image

 

The Path

Fate is a cruel mistress.

Justice laughs behind his hand

at the hoops he designs that

we, mortals,

dance through..

Fate took a holiday,

and didn’t notice

that The Life did not follow the road

Fate had originally orchestrated.

A detour appeared in the road

And The  Life, unknowingly

took the left path,

instead of the right.

Right as in

direction and in true.

By the time Fate returned from her journey

and Justice had moved on,

it was too late for The Life

and

The Life had moved on as well

always knowing in his heart

that the wrong road was chosen

but

never knowing why or how

or when ….

Oh, Fate tried to adjust the mishap

and did turn The Life to the right fork in the road

but

by then

The Life was too old

and it was too late

to change direction

in the middle of a journey

that was almost at its end.

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Parading through  your Posts

Do you believe in Fate?

 

 

O is for Occam’s Razor

For the second year I decided to participate in the A-Z Blogging Challenge.  Each April bloggers write for 26 days (Sundays off). Each day is a consecutive letter of the alphabet.

Today is April 17th   and the Ominous  letter O (appropriate considering)

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This short piece is from the “In the Shadows” section of The Bench. It started with a prompt from a friend’s Flash Friday series.

 

Google Image

 

I’m not sure what the pic means but I found it amusing

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Occam’s Razor

Occam faced himself in the mirror as he shaved.

He didn’t care for electric razors and still used a cartridge one. Not paying attention, daydreaming as usual, he nicked his philtrum. Shit. He placed the blade on the edge of the sink and stepped two paces in the windowless area, as dark and confining as a cellar, to tear several squares of toilet tissue off the roll. Back at the mirror he dabbed at the blood and again picked up the shaver to continue, vowing to pay more attention.

Noticing something amiss, he peered at the razor. It felt heavy and unwieldy in his hand.  What the hell? The sword began to slash his flesh. Crimson splashed the porcelain. He watched the scene unfold in the glass.

Heart thumping fear gripped him. Over the sink, the reflected visage had been ripped to shreds, and grinned back at him like the Cheshire Cat. There must be a simple explanation….

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Oozing through  your O posts

Did you have to look up the meaning of Occam’s Razor? I did when I first read the prompt.