Six on the Sixth

I’m still working on the Five Photos, Five Stories challenge, but I love “Six on the Sixth,” so here goes!

The Elbow in the Road (Bend)

A dusty road curves: What’s ahead?

The Wish (Desire)

If only I could reclaim him!

A Chance Encounter (Fortune)

How lucky to have met you!

The Reality of Alzheimer’s (Old)

She always needed to go outside.

The Titular Head (King)

He was a pompous, old fool.

The Day’s End (End)

A sunset, two people hugging: love.


Clocks aren’t supposed to stand still like that (Writing Prompt)

In response to A Writer’s Path Writing Prompts: Court Jester – Begin a scene with this line: Clocks aren’t supposed to stand still like that.

From by user pippalou.

I looked at the clock. The hands weren’t moving. Clocks aren’t supposed to stand still like that, I thought. I examined the grandfather clock carefully.

“What does your watch say?” I asked Dave, who was busy at his desk. He shuffled papers around before checking his watch.

“10:55 a.m.,” he answered. I turned toward him.

“Are you sure?” I gestured toward his watch. “Please check again.”

Dave looked at the watch carefully. “It seems it’s set permanently at 10:55 a.m. I guess I’ll have to change the batteries.”

I walked to the window. Some people had stopped in their tracks and were pointing up. Up where? At the Town Hall, where Big Ben 2 was located? The clock was nicknamed “Big Ben 2,” after London’s clock, when it was revealed how expensive the town clock had cost. What was happening? Was time actually stopping?

The gongs of the grandfather clock jolted me awake. 11 o’clock in the morning. Had I fallen asleep and dreamed this entire, weird event? I looked at the clock.

The Cat Says Meow

Written in response to “Making a Prompt Personal.

From by user Qedem1611.

From by user Qedem1611.

I live in a madhouse. I suppose it’s better than that horrible, smelly crate I was in, before this place. I must admit, it’s mouses above that crate. I wish I were here by myself, but they brought my brother along, too.

And the dog! We’ve managed to annoy her by taking over all of her beds (what is she, a queen?). But, I admit, the valet and maid of the house have provided plenty of things for us, too. We have lots of hidey-holes and climbing apparatuses – not to mention our own cat beds! And we are allowed in the basement – the dog doesn’t go down there! We try to eat the dog’s food too, but she barks at us, and does not leave her food unguarded. I don’t know why the valet and maid don’t control her better.

My brother tries to rouse the humans in the morning to feed us. Then we both pester them until one of them gets up (usually, the maid). Then we play a lot, until we go to sleep. If it’s sunny, our maid will move our tree to the window! We get to sleep in the sun, then!

We have to remind the valet or maid what time to feed us in the afternoon – otherwise, they forget. Then THEY eat at the table, and we sit like good little kittens to entice them to share. Sometimes the valet will share, even though the maid will bite his head off for doing so. We love the valet!!

My maid likes to pick me up and pet me. The petting is great, but I can’t stand being picked up – unless, of course, she’s petting me at the same time. We often have playtime – the maid or valet will throw our toys around at our leisure!

Okay, so it’s not quite a madhouse. I don’t know what we did before we got to this place. It’s like living in a palace!

The Cat Says Meow

Fizzle out

In response to the ALM Writes prompts.

Embed from Getty Images

The ocean waves lapped over her feet. Even though the water was refreshing, it reminded her how tired she was. The act of going to bed was tiring. She wondered why she even bothered. The waves frothed up, and then another one came along and erased the previous wave’s existence. “Is life like that?” she wondered. Water bubbled up, then rushed back to the mass of the ocean, then reappeared. “Do we lose ourselves within our body, reemerging again when the time is right?” She could only hope so.

Writing 101: Be Brief

She bent to pick up the paper that had been blown into the pachysandra. Oh, a letter:

and I’ve wanted to tell you for years that you have a son, but I couldn’t bring myself to call you since you married Helena.

The wind blew around her as she gripped the paper. “Is that what I had?” she thought to herself. “A son?” Her jaw and stomach clenched as she remembered the day she miscarried.