Barbara

This was Barbara’s take on this month’s writing prompt; The community seemed to adjust…

He should have looked both ways before he darted across the rural road. The woman driving a pickup screamed, slammed down on the brake pedal and watched as the truck headed from the other direction continued without slowing down.
“Oh, no,” she uttered when the little furball ran in front of the left front tire of the oncoming truck. He escaped death for a few seconds. If the critter had stopped then he would have survived, but he kept running and was hit by the truck’s right front tire. The truck sped on.
Tears filled the woman’s eyes. As she watched the casualty move his front paws to stretch as if he wanted a hug. After a few seconds he stopped moving.
She noticed other squirrels scampering in nearly trees. The community seemed to adjust to the loss of their comrade quicker than she did.
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May Writing Prompt

This month’s writing prompt was…

The community seemed to adjust…

As usual we wrote for ten minutes and each person took it a different way.  Follow along to see some of the reactions to the sentence. And if you didn’t make it to the meeting but still want to see where the prompt takes you, just set the timer for ten minutes and go.  If you want to share, send your work to valeriegaumont@gmail.com for posting.

Paula Bramlett

This is Paula’s take on the November writing Prompt…

Her choice would be to stay as long as she could…

Her choice would be to stay as long as she could. Non confrontational, timid, unsure, she knew how to make the bad things better by building a shimmering interior castle. And, so, she constructed that castle, bit by bit, a ray of light at a time. The first months of her marriage slipped by and then the first years. Everything proceeded as planned, the darkening day-by-days made bearable by the light only she could see. But then came the day that divided the past from the future. The day her baby girl came. The day the light moved from the inside to the outside. The beauty of her living treasure so pure and piercing, it cried for protection. That is when she decided to step away. Painful, slow, a battle to be fought alone. But one day she and her treasure left the darkness and began to live in the light. That is how she learned that light is meant to shine on the outside, meant to be seen and meant to be shared.

Sally Clark

In the November writing prompt, this is what Sally came up with for:

Her choice would be to stay as long as she could…

Her choice would be to stay as long as she could….

in the bubbles, in the warm,

in the candle-lit room

as she drips the sponge over her toes,

runs the scented water down her arm,

lets her hands float on puffy clouds of foam.

x

Nothing exists here except the quiet.

The door is locked to all outside creatures

who would steal her peace, the schedules,

the children, the meals, the laundry,

the exhausting doing of every day.

x

If she could stay here,

right here, she would as long

as she could, a day, a night,

a lifetime of rinse and soap

and letting it all go

x

or, at least, until the water

turns cold and her fingertips

shrivel and her hair melts

into the steamy tiles…

x

just one minute more…

Author of Where’s My Hug?, Ideals Children’s Books, a WorthyKids imprint, 2015
Winner of a 2015 Silver Moonbeam Children’s Book Award
    

November Writing Prompt

As a note the Hill Country Women of Words meeting has been changed to the second Tuesday of the month at 1 pm.  Please contact Sally Clark for more information. (sally_s_clark@yahoo.com)

November Writing prompt…

Her choice would be to stay as long as she could…

As always, if you didn’t make it to the meeting feel free to join us in this prompt.  Just take out a blank page of paper and a pen and set the timer for ten minutes. Then send your creation to valeriegaumont@gmail.com for posting here as part of our group.  Happy writing!

Linda

What Linda wrote for the June prompt, “Suspicions kept arising.”

The wedding party arrived at the reception in a limousine, but when the maid of honor reached into her purse to pay the driver, her cash was gone. Others checked into purses and wallets to find them empty as well. Even the mother of the bride had money missing. Finally a friend paid the driver, but a black cloud fell over the reception. Suspicions kept arising.

 

The next week, after filing a police report the mother of the bride also found that her prepaid grocery card was also missing. With some checking, she found the card was assigned a number which the grocery store could trace to a transaction. With the transaction time, a video then identified the person using the card. It turned out to be a good friend of the bride’s mother, who had stolen the money from the bridal party dressing rooms at the church. She was arrested, and it was found that this was not her first offense. Restitution and probation were in order this time.

June Prompt

The June prompt at this month’s WOW meeting was…”Suspicions kept arising.” Even if you didn’t attend, feel free to do the ten minute exercise and send it in.  Whether or not you made it, please send your submissions to Valerie for posting: valeriegaumont@gmail.com

Sally

What Sally wrote for the May prompt, We were never close.

“We were never close…”

 

by Sally Clark

 *

We were never close,

miles and years separate us,

the woman in the grave

and me.

 *

We share blood and a town,

memories, I think, and

footsteps as I walk along

the paved sidewalk in

my neon athletic shoes, I imagine

her skirts raising puffs of dust

from the dirt street that still lies

beneath.

 *

Church bells announce

the hours and I pause to listen

to their echo across the wooded creek

and through my window where

she might have stopped her work,

raised the ladle from her cast iron pot

of boiling vegetables and marked

the hours passing as beautiful chimes,

from day to day to year to year

for generations to come,

time marked in graceful notes

of music.

 

Sally

Sally’s take on the March writing prompt, The rain forced us inside.

RAIN FORCED US INSIDE

Big, flat splats plop and

shoulder their way down

the drain pipe; bullying tender

springs of grass, flattening

pansy petals and silencing

song birds in their nests.

*

Draping the day in gray,

puddling the street and soggy lawn,

beating down on my umbrella,

we all wait, hibernate, gravitate

to dry places until this rain spills

down the curb and fills

the ditches, passing away, far away

and steams in the sun.

Author of Where’s My Hug?, CandyCane Press, 2015