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Tag Archives: Dialogue
Yes, I didn’t post yesterday. I didn’t get to do my inch of art. I did, as I do every day, look at other folks’ artworks. And I did some research on energy. But you can get trapped in research and not do any inches. I’ve decided that an inch of art cannot include research. I might post other people’s art from time to time. Continue reading
Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Flash Fiction Story: The Dress with the Tennis Racquets Stamped All Over It
The Dress with the Tennis Racquets Stamped All Over It
“Takes you back, don’t it, ol’ bandstand.”
She laughed. “Remember the night we crawled under and it was already occupied?”
“Billy and Lorraine.”
“Lorraine anyway, could have been any of the boys. She broke ‘em in like wild horses.”
“Except you.” Continue reading
DS Squared Et Cetera
“Lovely approach to her tomb.”
“The pathways are dead ends.”
She looked. “Meaning?”
“Legend says the maze symbolised the unbridgeable divide between the living and the dead.”
“Why have you brought me here?” Continue reading
Every Friday authors worldwide gather round the virtual fireside of Rochelle Wisoff and share stories of 100 words, prompted by a common photograph, and exchange constructive criticism. Readers’ comments are also welcome. This week’s photo has been provided by Kent Bonham. Thanks, Kent. Your photo inspired the following very late entry from me this week.
That was Tod. We were in a junk shop, hunting for stuff to ‘upcycle’.
“Plaque.” I showed him.
“‘Souvenir of Cornwall,’” he read out loud. It was printed beneath a postcard. To its right was a slot for a photo. Continue reading
A goat took up residence in a corner.
“He can’t live here.”
“His belly’ll tell him.”
Press came; religious groups offering garlands, money. Animal militants smashed windows. Continue reading
Every Friday authors worldwide gather around the virtual fireside of Rochelle Wisoff and share stories of 100 words, prompted by a common photograph, and exchange constructive criticism. Readers’ comments are also welcome. This week’s photo has been provided by Ted … Continue reading
They finished their cigarettes in silence, ground them underfoot and strolled off towards the car park. The stubs, still smoking, danced a cheery reel around their heels for a short while, uplifted by a merry breeze, then tumbled from the bridge into the water. Continue reading
“Who’s down the end of the boardwalk, Granpa?”
“What d’you see, son?”
“Little girl, white dress; cradling …”
“ … alligator. That be Bee, boy.”
“Essie Bee.” Continue reading
Dice was snickering at whatever he was skim-reading.
“Mornin’, Sgt. Hey – that photo somebody’s posting-in every day? Listen to this from the profiler,” he sneered.
“‘The strawberry represents love, also blood. Also symbolising The Virgin, it’s the holy blood of Christ. Strawberry flowers – white – … purity; …leaves – trifoliate – …Trinity. …glass of wine therefore represents The Eucharist, in which wine is tran…sub…st… ”
“Transubstantiated, sir.” Continue reading
The Rhythm and the Algorithm
“No Smoking in Workshop.” I laughed.
“There’s nobody in it, ergo they all smoke.”
“Quod erat demonstrandum – not – mathematician. They could’ve been abducted by aliens.”
“Bigfoot?” Continue reading