Directions: Write a scene or an entire story of 100 words on the nose (no more, no fewer), inspired by this photograph. No judging. All fun. (Normal Flash! Friday guidelines regarding content apply.)
Don’t forget to add your Twitter handle & link to your blog, if you please. And a few words on how your week’s going would be nice.
This week’s challenge: Include a word of gibberish.
Jessica West (West1Jess)
Royalty and the Muse
100 words, on the nose.
blum biddledee dum
The harpist, she played and the people swayed,
Standing on their chairs and tables.
The king stood confused, yes surely bemused,
When he asked them to stop and they all refused.
The harpist, she played and the people stayed,
Long after they should have been able.
For the queen now was rude, feeling ill-used,
In a rage and not even slightly amused.
The harpist played and the people, they played,
Raising their arms up like gables!
They held up the ruse, each lost to the muse,
Only ending their dance when the royalty diffused.
blum biddledee dum
I’m absent for weeks and now here I am with nonsense. Eh, well I hope someone enjoys it. Good to be among you as I’m able. For whatever reason, this picture called to me. And when the muse calls, we answer, do we not? 🙂
I miss this crowd, this fiery bunch. I’m much more interested in hearing how your week’s going. I’ve only been writing and editing. Editing and writing. Stuck in a cave, but it’s necessary sometimes. 🙂
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I really enjoyed the flow of this piece Jess. Well done.
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Thanks!
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very nice x
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Thank you 🙂
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This CRACKED ME UP!!!!!! I’m reminded of this urban legend story of Princess Diana. It’s said no one could start eating until she did. And one day she hosted a luncheon and wasn’t hungry, so everyone sat there and sat there, starving but not allowed to eat…. hahahahahaha! the caprice of royalty. Poor harpist & dancers!
If you had to drop in, deus ex machina, from the sky to write us a tale, I’m glad it was this fun one. We miss you desperately, but it sounds like it’s going to be worth the wait! ❤ ❤
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I’m so glad you liked it!! And I’ve always heard that people couldn’t eat at royal gatherings until the King or Queen started first, but I never heard that about Princess Diana. ha!
Warms my heart to be back amongst this fine crowd. ❤ ❤
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‘…royalty defused.’ love it 🙂 made me smile and imagine being there in the crowd of commoners and the relief when the King and Queen left 🙂
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Thanks! They had to go. Too bossy. 😉
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Wow! Jessica, Nice and funny. Welcome back.
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Thank ya much, dear! Been away too long. Missed you all greatly. Thanks for the warm welcome. ❤
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I love the rythm of this and the enchanting scene that unfolds. Such a delight.
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Thanks so much! 🙂 It was fun to write.
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The rhythm of this piece is very fitting for a musically inspired piece – I love the flow and the rhyme 🙂
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Thank you! 🙂
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Haha! Nice and entertaining!
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Thanks!
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Those Damn Newfies
(100 words)
“Ow’s she cuttin’, me cocky?”
“Excuse me?” Jennifer responded, staring at the man in front of her.
“I said, ow’s she cuttin’, me cocky?” He repeated as he swayed back and forth.
“Fine………….” Jennifer assumed that the stranger had asked how she was. Jennifer looked down and continued playing her harp, hoping the man would go away.
“Say,” the man eventually blurted out. “I’m just ’bout gutfounded”
“Thank you.” Jennifer hoped it was the correct response.
“I gotta fire up a scoff, long may your Jib draw.”
Jennifer shook her head as he walked away.
She didn’t understand Newfanese.
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How’s my week going? So far so good, it’s been much warmer and way less snowier, thank god! It’s amazing how fast the snow melts with a bit of rain and some sun. I have to admit that I haven’t written much, it’s been busy with family stuff, hopefully this weekend. That’s about it. But for those that may not be aware, Newfies are a nickname we in the rest of Canada have for people from the province of Newfoundland. They have an interesting way of speaking that sounds very much like gibberish at times. The gibberish in this is actual newfie phrases. FYI, I am not a newfie myself, but I’ve met a few, and although they can be hard to understand, all the newfies I’ve met have been great people.
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I was kinda wondering about that. I thought maybe they were fictional characters in a story you’d written. Real life can certainly be as entertaining as fiction, though, especially when you toss a heavy accent into the mix. 😉
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Haha.. I can just see this scene playing out, the expressions on her face.
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Thanks Jess,
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These phrases are GREAT!!!! I may have to go around saying them at people today. Long may your Jib draw!!!!! 😀 😀
Delighted to hear you’ve gotten some relief from the snow. And I’m glad you are there to handle family stuff; your Muse will wait! though not for long…. 🙂
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I feel like the humor of this piece is a bit lost on me being an ignorant American, but I enjoyed it all the same – I like how you took the “gibberish” requirement and ran with it, integrating it fully as opposed to sloshing in a random gibberish word like the rest of us 😉
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Thanks howdylauren. Truth be told I did some digging online for newfie phrases. Translated they are:
Ow’s she cuttin’, me cocky? = How are you?
I’m just ’bout gutfounded = I’m really hungry
fire up a scoff = make a meal
long may your Jib draw = wishing someone good luck.
Quite frankly if i didn’t look up newfie phrases I wouldn’t have a clue what they meant.
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Howzit! I like the way you interpreted the prompt! Ja-nee, sometimes some lekker local slang or accents can sommer sound like another language. Lekker, man, lekker! 😉 I couldn’t resist…
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Strumming away
bills to pay
heart’s dismay
Flicketyflick
Used to love this instrument
played my souls lament
Now I regret the time spent
Flicketyflick
Fingers used to fly
Time swam by
On a lullaby
Flicketyflick
Listeners snooze
Some from booze
Pride I lose
Flicketyflick
Nobody’s actually enjoying
The skills I’m applying
Inside I’m crying
Flicketyflick
Busking is a last resort
I don’t enjoy the people I court
they think I’m full of mirth
Flicketyflick
Despair leaks through my hands
In my head it stands
I’m floating away to a foreign land
Flicketyflick
Strumming away
bills to pay
heart’s dismay
Flicketyflick
100 words
@susanoreilly3
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Nice! 🙂
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thanks Jacki x
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oh how beautiful and tragic, Susan! THIS story reminds me of famous violinist Joshua Bell, who one day set up at a train station and played for several hours. People went past ignoring him all day, never realizing they had just listened to one of the world’s greatest violinists.
I love the repeated “flicketyflick,” which helps bind the whole piece together and add motion. I also love the insight into this POV; sums up many writers’ lives too. “Bills to pay, heart’s dismay.” Perfectly put.
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ah thanks so much Rebekah for a brilliant comment which has made my day so glad you liked cheers x
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Flicketyflick – oh the artist’s lament of using their talents to pay the bills…… strikes a chord 🙂 Fab. 🙂
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thanks F.E. Clark for reading glad u line cheers 🙂
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Nice rhythm.
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thanks PRA tibia x
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Love the format of this piece. I often felt bad when I didn’t take the time to stop and enjoy the better performers of the subway, this was a vivid reminder.
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thanks very much Caseyrose me 2 x
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Very much enjoyed this – the lines are short and curt, great encapsulation of the musician’s thoughts. Sad, though, in the people’s lack of appreciation for the art.. 😦
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thanks Lauren cheers x
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I enjoyed this!
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thanks Carin cheers x
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The Player of Harpsichord Square
As she sits in the glow of the sodium light,
She weaves her music into the night.
Notes meet strings and swim like fish,
Making beauty of what seems gibberish.
Long golden hair and dress of white silk,
Fingers nimble and skin like milk.
She casts her spell out into the dark air,
Drawing to her the lost who always linger there.
When the old yellow light hits the cobbles of stone,
You will find yourself feeling chilled to the bone.
Be warned and beware – if you look into her face,
Of sentience and humanity there is not a trace.
100 words
F. E. Clark – @feclarkart
http://www.feclarkart.com/blog
My week: I am enjoying taking part in several flash fiction challenges, starting to learn to swim again and painting a wee painting daily.
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This story was sooo fun!!! the harpist is bringing out everyone’s inner poet, it would seem! I love, love, love the twist in the last line. There I was, bumbling along, thinking this was an ordinary harpist and that “spell” was just a poetic way of describing her music. Too much fun.
It’s been fantastic seeing you around the flash circuit! Flash worms its way into your bones, it does. 🙂 How fun to be learning to swim again! what’s it like, after an absence??? And I love your artwork. My favorite piece from February is “Conjuring Warmth.” I think I could stare at it all day.
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great write x
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Hello Rebekah – thank you 🙂 I enjoyed this photo cue very much 🙂 I am finding that the flash does indeed worm its way into one’s bones – and, on a tight schedule, an accessible way to be creative – hoping this will lead to longer pieces, small flashes of painting daily led to more and more painting 🙂 Thanks for looking at my paintings too 🙂
Swimming – hmmmm – the jury is out at the moment 😉
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….just pressed the wrong reply button – see comment meant for you, (Rebekah) under Susan O’Reilly’s reply.
Susan O’Reilly – thank you for kind comment.
Off to get more coffee before I make any more faux pas!!
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Ooh, chilling!
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thanks Jess 🙂
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Chilling last line.
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Thank you Pratibha 🙂 flash seems to bring out my dark side!
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Ooh, your poem drew me in just like the protagonist lures in the listeners… The first stanza is beautifully written. Eerie.
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Thank you Lauren 🙂
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Wonderful!
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Thank you Carin 🙂
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A Song for the Moon
I played the moon a song to keep her from leaving.
People tell how the moon was the sun’s lover in an age long forgotten. But their ways parted and the sun forsook the moon and left her to wander the paths of heaven alone. The stars took pity on her loneliness and played the music of lulurasetsin for her. She tarried in the sky, listening, never leaving earth’s side.
But the stars are dimming. And, with them, their music.
I will play star music for her, hoping that she will tarry here and not leave again to wander alone.
Words: 100
http://www.hersenskim.blogspot.com
@CarinMarais
I’ve been working on a few different writing-relating things this week. A bit of fiction, but also some articles. I’m hoping for some midnight inspiration about a problem with one of my plots…
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So beautiful, Carin! and your madeup word fits so beautifully, so seamlessly, like something out of Tolkien’s Elvish, that I had to read back through a second time to find it! I love the hope-filled determination of the narrator. Made me want to stand and cheer the narrator on!!!!!!
Hurrah for your writing projects this week. May the Midnight Muse solve your stinky plothole!!
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Thanks Rebekah! For once a more hopeful story than the ones that usually come out! 🙂
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I love the image of playing a song to keep the moon from leaving, I am a bit obsessed by the skies – so your words sang for me 🙂
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Thanks – really glad you enjoyed it!
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Such a beautiful story. I felt like I could cup the words and images in my hands and drink them in.
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Thank you! 🙂
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Lovely. Only wish I knew more about the narrator 🙂 If only there were another 100 words! 😉
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Thanks! Maybe someday there will be a bit more story to flesh this one out… 😉
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lovely x
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Thanks!
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Riff
“I don’t suppose,” said Jack, none too politely, “that you’d give me something expensive.”
She looked at the boy, her fingers strum, strum, strumming.
“Thing is, we live in a shack,” said Jack. “A real papperstacker. When visitors come, I’m sentenced to the couch. It’s inhumane.”
Strum, strum.
“And my mother could use a servant or two,” said Jack. “A man like me, doing dishes?! Insulting.”
Strum, strum.
“Lost my cow recently, not my fault,” said Jack. “Could use another.”
She stopped strumming.
“How about this golden harp?” she said, smiling her special smile, her so very special, hungry smile.
100 words
@postupak
* Having a good week here; hard at work on a writing project which is making me all kinds of happy inside. WORK, MUSE, WORK!!!
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Ooh, I do so love a dark fairy tale. Happy to hear your muse is hard at work!
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Wow. Chilling turns of phrases. Your trademark. 🙂
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Another delightful twist of a fairytale. Vivid with a dash of malice, just what the doctor ordered.
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Lovely, creepy, clever, just how I like my stories! 🙂
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Ooo! I like this take on the fairy tale 🙂
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No Jack, NO! Love the dark fairy tale-ness of this Rebekah – and that special hungry smile 🙂
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lol papper stacker nice write made me smile as well x
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The soft melodic notes of his daughter’s harp drew him from his bed into the town square.
“What are you doing out here, Eliana? Go back to bed.”
When she didn’t respond he knew something was wrong. His stomach lurching, he knelt at her feet and looked into her strangely cloudy eyes.
“I must play. Belial must be summoned,” Eliana whispered.
“No, daughter. You’re all muckscrambledy. You don’t know what you’re saying.” He tugged at her harp futilely.
“I play for Belial.”
His sharp sobs escaped and cut through the harp’s seemingly angelic notes. Finally, she stopped.
“Belial has come.”
***
100 words! @rachelforgets on Twitter
My week: I’m trying to bust out of a slump by completing a few flash fiction challenges. Here’s hoping! We’ve been “snowed in” (really, “iced in” – it’s NC afterall) and I’ve been working long weird hours (telecommuting) trying to keep up with the day job. The fiction challenges are a nice break. ❤
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oooh – am not wanting to be meeting this Belial!
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love muckscrambledy nice write x
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You’re speaking my language, as I’ll spend the better portion of early 2015 summoning Belial myself. 😉
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Haunting and mysterious 🙂 nice work!
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AWWW thank you!
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Wow. Dark and beautiful – love it!
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Thank you so much!
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@colin_d_smith
100 words
Lucy glanced up at the clock. Ten more minutes. Her fingers plucked at the harp strings. People passed, turning but never stopping. Some hesitated, as if momentarily caught by the hook of a melodic phrase, the turn of a tune, the thrill of a note resonating on heart strings. But they always shook it off and moved on.
That was to be expected.
Then, at the stroke of twelve, she suddenly disappeared from the damp streets of London, and was again facing Gabriel.
“I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” he said.
She had. Angelic time-out is actually kind of fun.
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Ooops… I forgot to include a word of gibberish. Always read the directions!! Oh well… 🙂
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See REVISED VERSION below…
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Made me smile – angelic time out 🙂
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Ha! I wonder what made her go into time-out! 😉
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Haha, thanks for the laugh! Nice twist 🙂
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101010011
(100 words)
01010010 10010101 0101101001
The people on the street were catalogued.
1010111 1010011 101101111
The cars on the street were catalogued.
100001101 101010110 10010010110
The buildings on the street were catalogued.
Overall, the mission was a complete success. The bipedal life forms didn’t suspect a thing. Disguised as a musician, agent Blibblahblibblah had spent hours on the street, watching and entering data into her computer. It was time to return to the mother ship.
“Hey babe, wazz up?” one of the humanoids slurred at her. “Let’s go for drink.”
Blibblahblibblah was going to have to take this one for further study.
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See REVISED VERSION below…
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Oops… replied to the wrong thing. Though that was a good story, Reg! 😀
I’m having a good day today, clearly…
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Thanks Colin.
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Nice!
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@colin_d_smith
100 words
REVISED VERSION (with gibberish word)
Lucy glanced up at the clock. Ten more minutes. Her fingers plucked at the harp strings. People passed, turning but never stopping. Some hesitated, as if momentarily caught by the hook of a melodic phrase, the turn of a tune, the thrill of a note resonating on heart strings. But they always shook it off and moved on.
That was to be expected.
Then, at the stroke of twelve, she suddenly disappeared from the damp streets of London, and was again facing Gabriel.
“I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” he said.
She had. Angelic time-out is actually kind of cooli-dooz.
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Angelic time-out!!! LOL!!! I love this. Beautiful lyricism in the beginning paragraph. Well done!
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very nice and I like cooli-dooz x
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Angelic time-out?!? very clever.
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The Classic
(100 words)
People stared at Gwen as she plucked her harp.
“Disgusting.”
“That’s not music.”
“She’s a stain on classical elegance.”
Most gave her a scowl or angry glare as they walked past. She was ruining their evening.
But one group enjoyed the melody that grated on the nerves of others. With long hair and leather jackets they danced and body slammed into each other to the music.
“Rothagock othagon!” they shouted as they played air guitars and bobbed their heads like Angus Young.
It wasn’t often they came across a harpist who could play ACDC’s “Highway to Hell” with such precision.
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Go Gwen I say 🙂
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Oh, the clashing of genres. 🙂 I would be interested to hear how classic rock would sound on a harp though!
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HA! I love it!! Now I want to hear AC/DC on classical instruments. Bet it rocks! 😀
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Play On
“Play on.”
The gentleman in grey pinstripe suit flashed an ultra-white condescending smile. I sensed the casual dismissal in his voice. I play to the unconcerned audiences who have more significant lives to lead and presentations to deliver than an underdressed for the chilly hotel-lobby harpist.
“Billy, stop hogging it. I wanna ride.” A whiny toddler with denim overalls and runny nose chased his older sibling spinning his scooter around the lobby.
“Honey!” a middle-aged woman in a tight-for-her-bulges dress beckons her ungainly shorts-clad man.
Cagony! Oh, the searing agony of cacophony of sounds.
I don’t flinch, just play on.
100 sparing words.
Pratibha
@needanidplease
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Forgot to say what kind of week I am having. 🙂 Alas, more work unrelated to writing this week. But still sneaking words in.
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I really liked the line about the middla aged woman and shorts-clad man, it made me chuckle. this story reminded me of that old saying about stopping to smell the roses, or in this case stopping to appreciate someone’s musical talent
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Reg, Thank you for stopping by to smell the roses! 🙂
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nice like that line 2 cheers x
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Cagony! I love that……… 🙂
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Thanks.
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If I were judging, I’d give you first prize for best gibberish word.
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Aw Jessica! Thanks!
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I love this! The epitome of people-watching… or people-listening. There is so much that happens even in a short span of time, in a small space- your piece is like a photograph of a moment 🙂
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howdylauren, 🙂
Thank you so much for taking time to read and write the lovely comment.
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A Dance Before Dusk
Her music became long golden ribbons. They defied gravity and floated up into the sky, tendrils waving and undulating, tickling the lemon and lavender early evening sky.
She plucked her strings with nimble fingers and smiled at her instrument, at herself, at being the Goose Girl.
Her golden ribbons would draw the geese from their planned and plotted routes and instead encouraged them to swoop and glide and fly between the ribbons, feeling their smooth edges ripple against their wings.
The geese pirouetted, promenaded, and paddlescoped; a maneuver that belongs solely to webfooted aerialists. And the Goose Girl kept smiling.
100 words
@CaseyCaseyRose
I’m having a joy-filled rest of the week now that my radiation treatment is well and truly over and my cats are once again draped over me. I
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This is beautiful 🙂 We have been hearing the geese flocks overhead these past few days – I shall imagine your Goose Girl when I hear them next 🙂
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lovely and love paddlescoped x
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Beautiful! And congratulations on completion of your radiation treatment. And cats too. 🙂
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Beautiful. The first sentence drew me in and I was sad to see it end. Fabulous imagery 🙂
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Wow, really a beautiful tale! And I’m glad you’re doing better!
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Tamara Shoemaker
@TamaraShoemaker
Word Count: 100
Taken
You conduct the orchestra that greets me when I watch you sideways over the cubicles. Your fingers stroke my heartstrings when you brush past; the soft whfft of your shirtsleeves whisper across my workspace.
Daily highlights are at 10:15 (morning break), 12:30 (lunch break), 3:10 (afternoon break). You’ll be there in the break room, coffee mug in hand, a loose grin parting the steam that fogs your glasses.
I try not to notice the band on your finger, but it drags my gaze downward like a millstone. She brings you lunch, kisses you goodbye.
The orchestra dies to numbing silence.
*****
Today: I feel like I’m drowning. I’m doing some polishing edits on two books to be released in the next weeks and months, and I’m still in my pajamas at 2:30 p.m. The kids did eat lunch. One thing accomplished.
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Oh. Too sad. They need a HEA. And yes, I can relate to the drowning feeling!
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So sad! Unique take on the prompt, for sure. I love the image of “your fingers stroke my heartstrings when you brush past” – anyone who has ever been in love can relate to this 🙂
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Well, even with all you have on your plate, you’ve still crafted a beautiful story! Really enjoyed it!
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The Strings of Love
Margaret Locke (margaretlocke.com or @Margaret_Locke) – 100 words
He’d always disliked harps. They reminded him of great aunt Enid, who constantly played recordings of the dratted things, making it feel like he was in a funeral home whenever his family visited.
So when he heard the familiar sounds–like a drowning whale–echoing from the square, his first impulse was to cover his ears and yell “BlahblahI’mNotListeningBlahblah”.
His second was to prostrate himself before the figure at the strings. Surely an angel come to life.
“Is that a Salvi Arion?”
She looked up at him, pleasure shining from her cerulean eyes.
“You know harps?”
Thank you, Auntie Enid. Thank you.
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Aww, what a good slice of romance, Margaret! Why am I not surprised? 😉
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I needed some romance today!
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Oops. My well. Working, still, on Frankensteining my first novel back together. Feeling overwhelmed and undertalented. Wondering if it will a) ever be done, and b) ever hold together, and c) ever be good. So a 100 word break without judgment was just what I needed.
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Ha! Funny and clever. I love the style of this piece; wonderfully written, it feels like a complete story in 100 short words.
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Oh, thanks so much – I’m very flattered by that, especially since my first attempt came in at way over 100, and in all the cutting I’d worried I’d lost the flavor.
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Bach’s Final Sonata
The plan was to start playing right at 18:45. We synchronized our watches. He told me which dress to wear.
The old men in parliament would be drawn to me. They were too proper to approach, but they would stare. Ding, dong, dingleby ding. Twing, twang, twingleby twing.
From where I played I could see him slip in behind them, unnoticed. I saw him set down a package, at the foot of a pillar, opposite of a security camera.
When he is gone I play Bach, before packing and leaving.
Only I was nothing to him, except an unwanted witness.
http://www.charleswshort.com
http://www.christianflashweekly.wordpress.com
http://www.facebook.com/authorcharleswshort
http://www.twitter.com/charleswshort
100 words exactly
This is a big week. All the normal stuff, but have to be done by Thursday night to travel 5 hours into the urban desert. Will take mom to doctor on Friday, and on Saturday will deliver my wife to a conference. In between I will need to trim trees, paint doors, order security doors and more.
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Ooh! Chilling and suspenseful. Good use of the “gibberish” words. 🙂 Left me wanting more!
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I’m glad you liked it. Seldom hear someone say they want more gibberish. Lol. I knew what you meant.
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@blurosemd
Word Count: 100
Students rush out the stern gay colored
lunch room on cue and just as delivered
One classmate said “Challenging” another
“We will upset you” straight face and bright red lips
My stomach rose in protest, spaghetti or eighth graders?
Invisible bell screams and the jungle springs to life
Opening my chapped mouth, intent on grabbing slippery attention
Trickles out “thsoielhg!”
Screaming, drumming, dancing, fighting
All stop and I have their attention
Deep breath, I clear my throat and softer I say
“Slgoiweaoegvn, dslagioh. Sliagoskhe? Alkdidgo?”
Can they not understand directions? How can I make myself more clear?
Bell rings: “dlsajgoieewoiggnveoigiwrio!!!”
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As a teacher I can relate to my directions ringing as gibberish in students’ ears 😉
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It’s a necessary part of life. Eighth grade is hard on the kids as well as the teachers. I still love to teach 😎
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The rules of cricket.
@geofflepard 100 words
‘What are you doing?’
‘We need the strings.’
‘But…’
‘Sport takes precedence over music. The rackets need restringing.’
‘You’re joking.’
‘I never joke. Can you take the frame to the workshop.’
‘Why?’
‘Stumps.’
‘Is this tennis too?’
‘Cricket. Is it willow?’
‘No, cherry.’
‘Shame. Could have got a bat out of that bit.’
‘I don’t understand cricket.’
‘Oh it’s easy. There are two teams. The one that is in goes out until they are out when they go back in. Then they have tea.’
‘That’s gibberish.’
‘Like your harp music. You should listen to yourself sometime.’
‘That’s unlikely, isn’t it?’
Pretty good week so far; London bathed in sunshine; I made a ridiculous pancake cake for shrove Tuesday; I left my phone on the train and my new hero, Ryan from Carshalton found it and returned it to me; I submitted book two to my editor (and am now cringing at what he’ll do to it).
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The classic contrast, arts v. sports 🙂 Clever use of “gibberish.” The thought of a harp (which are notoriously expensive!) being dismantled to re-string a racket makes me cringe though!
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thank you Lauren
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Foy
@db_foy
100 words
Stringed vs Percussion
“Do you have to beat those things. All. Day. Long?”
“Kettle, much? Who was pluhpluncking her strings ‘til midnight?”
“It’s the only time I have to practice.” Alisa punctuated her words with hands on hips, lithe frame splitting the doorway to Alexa’s room. “If you were more predictable, we’d all know when to avoid attempting homework.”
Alexa burrumped the tom-tom between her knees.
“You’re just jealous because harps can’t beat drums.” The rocker-chick smiled. She knew what grated her polar twin.
“Not true! The harp is beautiful, blissful–”
“And boring.”
Alisa detonated, “YOU PICKED DRUMS CUZ YOU LIKE JASON!”
~
My week? Relaxing. 🙂
A snow day and a half have spoiled me.
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Haha! I love how Alisa transforms from the studious, artistic harpist to a typical teen 🙂 You do a great job of creating characters in only 100 words, impressive as always 🙂
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Awww, thanks, Lauren! These are not the typical characters I create so they felt strange at first. 😛
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Glad you said your week has been relaxing–because I can imagine being the mother of these girls and stuck at home with them during the snow: STRESSSTRESSSTRESS!!!! LOL! what a funny and realistic scene.
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Thanks, Rebekah! Glad they aren’t mine in the flesh 😉
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Behind the Notes
@Lunalynx
100 words
You doubted I’d play it in front of them? They see a triscolette.
I’ll play.
Maybe the notes can find you.
Softly, gently, each caress of the string catches the moon’s light. It hurts to build too fast.
Rising, falling. Inevitably, faster. Each note quickens, falls on the heels of the one before, like we did. Twirling, louder, whirling, beating against each other like that night, our heels barely touching the ground. You spun me, bodies close, golden in the fading light. Sharp, staccato whirring until—the stop.
The strings thrumming against my hands pulse with more life than I.
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Heartbreaking, yet accurate representation of self-expression through music 🙂
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Oh. My. Word. THAT LAST LINE!! Killer. Tragic. And so perfect, falling on the heels of a paragraph exploding with life and music. Love what you’ve done here with structure, the short, staccato sentences against the long, rolling, flowing musical ones. So very nice.
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Enchantment
My song is meant for only one. Faceless tourists pass, preoccupied with sights, not sounds.
Drawn by my melodic tones (or hourglass figure), he cannot help but linger. My fingers dance upon the strings: he dances unselfconscious to the mellifluous melody. He chances to ask my name, prattling as a schoolboy to his crush. Hand in hand, we twirl, dizzy with anticipation, drunk on music, we laugh and spin ever upward — excelsior! — in a breathless bellaroundaballadine… then collapse (he, never to rise again).
Black widow-like, I weave my melody. My song is meant for only one.
* * *
My week so far has been snow and ice, and hot cocoa. Can’t complain.
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I love how you bookended your story with the same line, but it strikes a much different chord in the reader upon a second look. 🙂 Also… spider metaphor, “weave my melody”… love it 🙂
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Am I ever crazy about your gibberish word. “Bellaroundaballadine” flows gorgeously, like a motif itself. And I guess if you’ve gotta go, this ain’t too bad a way…?
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Down to Earth
Even since the recession, there has been a real shortage of jobs. They can go on about declining enrolment all they like, it’s all a bunch of bibble-swoddle. Do you have any idea how much it costs to rent a cloud, let alone one with a fancy postcode like 9? It was easy enough on angel wages, but the severance package barely covers me to the end of the month. There’s a rumour flying around there are jobs down below, but I’m not really flush with transferable skills. About the only thing I can do is play the harp…
100 words
We’ve had a busy week this week putting up shelves and pictures in the new house. I had no idea we had so many pictures, there are guys working at the Louvre that haven’t hung as many frames as I did this weekend! Our daughter turns one this week, so apparently we are going to bake a cake so she can smash it? I have a funny feeling that means me and the dog will be fighting over smashed up floor cake…
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Top notch title, it really encompasses all the layers of this story. Those 100 words are working hard here.
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Oh, I agree with Jess. I love a good title that makes itself essential to a story, and you’ve done that here with (jobless) panache. Down on her luck, eh?? HAHHAHAHAHA, crack myself up.
And for the record, smashed up floor cake tastes infinitely better than all the other kinds, particularly if you’re still wrangling it out of your hair hours later.
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Haha! I loved this take. Very clever, with a bit of dark humor here. “Do you have any idea how much it costs to rent a cloud, let alone with a fancy postcode like 9?” – literally laughed out loud at this one!
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Nice! Love this!
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The Harpist (100 words)
@howdylauren. http://www.howdylauren.wordpress.com
Robert stopped short. It couldn’t be, but the resemblance was startling. Glossy hair, fake-baked skin, heavy makeup, cleavage-bearing top. It was clearly Jessica, hardly changed. Years ago he oscillated between hopeless infatuation and pitiful disdain for the most infamous cheerleader at Lincoln High. Daughter of a drug dealer, star of the under-the-bleachers scandal at prom. He hadn’t seen her since Daniel’s graduation party when she got drunk and began stripping on the table–or as she slurred, an “exowthwickdance.” Funnily enough, he had imagined if he saw her again it would be on a street corner–just not as a virtuoso harpist.
——————————————
My week has been good, days off work due to snow have allowed for more writing and reading time than I had anticipated! 🙂
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I can just imagine a glammed-out harpist. Good for Jessica, that she kept her daring identity and managed a classical instrument, too. Sounds like a good start to a romance, too. And the gibberish word was unique, a drunken slur as opposed to a nonsense onomatopoeia like so many of us ended up with. Awesome.
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Thank you! You certainly can’t judge Jessica by her cover 😉
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very nice x
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LOVE this. That tension of opposites is so delicious, with her reputation and his disdain both flipped on their heads in your final two words. Really gorgeous. Such a nice frame, too, with Robert’s stopping at the very beginning. Strong start, stellar finish. Love it.
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Thank you for your kind words Rebekah! Glad you liked it 🙂
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Distressed Wood
@rowdy_phantom
100 words
Melancholy erects a shelter
Around the damsel in the square,
She leans into the soundbox, coaxing sorrow from the strings
For coins in the coil of velvet cloth
Once, she plucked joy into the day
Then night, her sleep clawed
Across a cardboard hunger
A full heart can’t sate,
Her bones splintered against a grey frost
A radiant soul can’t warm
Melancholy draws enough sympathy to thaw bone.
One woe-weary morning,
She plucks again at hope
Strings warp away from her stroke
Shear red tears from her fingertips.
The refrain echoes across the square
With the steady splink of coins
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While the east coast has been slogging through snow, Vancouver has been experiencing record gloriousness so far this week. Took the squidlet for a sunny wander along the beach and did a little geocaching while in there area.
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lovely x
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When I was brainstorming ideas I considered writing something similar to this- but your version is much better and more musical 🙂 thanks for sharing!
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The Harplyrist
By Charity Paschall
You walk by without seeing me. Just a harplyrist. I’m here every day—nothing unusual. Unless you stayed to watch me, you would never know. I don’t sleep, though I am tired. I don’t eat, though I hunger. I am here; alive yet not; I hunger for life before. Before the deal. I was naïve; and all too vain. I needed to be the best, so I asked. He kept his bargain, but in exchange, I must play for him always–until death; so I wait—for a death that will never come. Because I made a deal with the devil.
@CharityPaschal2
http://scrappybaglady.blogspot.com/
I had a bit of trouble coming up with gibberish today…
My week has been good. Working too much, but the overtime will look nice on the paycheck.
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I adore your gibberish word- so elegant, it ought to be a real word! Your take was very thoughtful and haunting- maybe hit a little too close to home with the “needed to be the best” line!
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Thank you for your thoughtful comment. When I looked at the photo prompt…I asked myself “Why would this woman be playing a harp on a street corner–what tragic circumstance could be behind this…” and it developed from there.
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@betsystreeter
100 words indeed.
Here’s how you know you will be the next to die:
Walk to the town square. Once there, cross the cobblestones and enter the church from the front, between the two broadest columns. Take the time to wipe your feet.
At the threshold, stop. Release your thoughts. Stand still and let the vast breath of silence from within wrap around you.
Hold your breath if you need.
You will hear the harp, echoing as if it comes from everywhere at once. Inside, outside, in your body. This is how you know.
If you hear nothing, go inside and give thanks.
———-
This week it’s the Continuing Saga of the Novel That Will Shortly Be Released (mere weeks left!!). It’s getting some exciting attention (yay! plus scary! plus yay!) and I’ve also had the weird experience of having someone, um, review my Acknowledgements. Didn’t see that one coming.
Last weekend was East Bay Comic Con near my home, a small yet passionate show filled with costumes and lovely people. I do so enjoy meeting them. And seeing their costuming skills as I have exactly none of those. And I got to see the tattoo someone had done of my artwork which made me jump about with happiness.
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Ooo! I really liked this – beautiful, dark and a bit eerie…
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I very much enjoyed this- I personally love when something intense (e.g. death) is considered directly (your straightforward directions). There is something very powerful that emerges when you take away a lot of the words and let what remains speak for itself. Nicely done.
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The Anniversary
By Sheila Weyant
100 words….. Every year on this day
Wearing her wedding dress white
she comes to the square
to play for him
in the radiant moonlight
With every note
upon her harp she plays
She remembers her love
long gone away
When he hears her play
his heart does ache
His tears from from Heaven fall
into the fountain
Plip plop
is the sound they make
Blending together with her
Tee tee da dums
Removing the veil
between earth and sky
the melody they create
makes a lovers lullaby
Still one…
Vowing to never say
Goodbye….
Plip plop…
Tee tee da dum…
They sigh…….
This the first time I have written on this site. I have enjoyed reading the other posts. They are all so good. My week has been hectic and I’m feeling a bit stretched with lots to do at work and home. Being apart of this Flash Friday/ Wednesday warm up has fun been a highlight of my week.
Sheila Weyant
sjweyant@comcast.net
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