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It’s the twentieth anniversary of The Shawshank Resemption” with a favorite actor, Morgan Freeman.

“The Shawshank Redemption is a 1994 American drama film written and directed by Frank Darabont, based on the 1982 Stephen King novella Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption. Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins) is sentenced to two consecutive life terms in prison for the murders of his wife and her lover and is sentenced to a tough prison. However, only Andy knows he didn’t commit the crimes. While there, he forms a friendship with Red (Morgan Freeman), experiences brutality of prison life, adapts, helps the warden, etc., all in 19 years.”

https://rugby843.blog

Everything had to be perfect. His favorite wine, a single red rose in a slim glass vase decorating the small table. She had arranged for dinner to be served in their room at eight on the dot. He liked everything detailed and he was always punctual.

She smoothed the satin coverlet she purchased for the occasion and fluffed the generous hotel pillows. Checking herself in the full length mirror she noticed a slight smudge of the bright red lipstick he preferred she wear. She found a matching red silk dress, low cut with a thigh high split just as he wanted. She tried to be specific in every detail.

She glanced at the time, seven-thirty. He should be at the door by now. She took a last look at herself and then posed alluringly on the edge of the bed. After quite a few minutes, she shifted her position. He was never late. She started to worry something happened, had he changed his mind? Did he find out her secret? She started to dread his coming, how he would react. He must have found out, otherwise he would be here. She was stupid to think he’d never find out about her past, now it was over. She felt defeated, used, and sorry for herself. She stood up to get her coat.

A key turned in the lock, he walked in. She tried to recover, act as if she hadn’t had those thoughts, didn’t want him to know.

He walked over and took her in his arms. “It’s all right, I know. It doesn’t matter.”

Time To Write: Set The Scene 8 [Creative Writing Prompt]

Everlasting love

Is a dream, a fantasy

Even the evergreen forest doesn’t last forever

Beetles, disease, fire, all of these can turn vibrant green to a dull brown

The mere act of life itself is uncertainty

We are born, live and die

We hope to be everlasting, but

We are not evergreen

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2018/04/14/weekend-writing-prompt-50-evergreen/

I thought for a second I should bail. It’s not like I have any control. It was just a story, no big deal. I know thousands of other people who write so much better than I do. It was a surprise, I was fazed by even the idea of being published! And that literary journal with the long name you have to pronounce in phases? No way, I thought! My writing is probably fourth grade writing at best. I love kids, sometimes act like a kid, enjoy talking and listening to kids, I guess you could say I’m a kid at heart.

The story in question was just a little tale about children playing on a huge stack of hay bales on their ranch. They had horses and miniature donkeys to feed. The bales had not yet been covered with a tarp, so the “mountain” climbing began. Not so much a dangerous activity as it is foolhardy. The bales are stacked, but not yet secured, so they’re an accident waiting to happen. The story involved novice archers, a misplaced target, and a bloody but not fatal wound.

Nothing spectacular, nothing new in the annals of history about ranches and kids, hay bales and imaginations at their peak in childhood.

Fiction🤠

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/04/14/saturday-mix-double-take-14-april-2018%ef%bb%bf/

Sunday evening, dinner in the pub, deserted streets for the most part, and the Jones family was going home. As they walked down the stone street Jack noticed it before they did. It seemed the fog was creeping up on them, and quickly. He started to remark to his parents when he noticed, even though it was faster than normal, it was an eerie cream color, strange for this area. They were walking right near the bay, it should have been white-gray.

Jack’s parents were suddenly aware of the same odd color and feared it was some sort of foul emission and they wanted no part of it. Fearing for the safety of their son, they ducked into a nearby alley, hoping it would pass. Unfortunately it seemed to follow them in and surrounded them completely. Jack couldn’t even see his parents any longer and started stumbling further into the alley. It seemed clearer ahead of him so he kept walking toward what he thought was safety. He didn’t hear his parents anymore, even though the two of them were flailing about trying to locate their son, shouting his name.

The further Jack walked, the less noise of any kind was heard. He looked up to try to find a rooftop, a bridge, anything that would tell him where he was. There was nothing, nothing but a small clearing ahead. Even the cobblestones had disappeared. As the clearing widened it appeared as if he was suspended, no longer surrounded by the street or the buildings, just the eerie fog. He started calling out to his parents, but heard no response. He cried “where am I?” in frustration.

“You’re here with me”. And then a wicked laugh. Jack turned himself quickly around, wanting to know who was speaking. He saw nothing but the fog. It seemed to be alive, forming into a creature. Jack thought he’d seen this form before. He was starting to feel less frightened and more curious.

“You’re him, aren’t you? The creature in my book! You really scared me!” And as the moment went on, Jack seemed to relax, thinking he must have been dreaming. His parents would be asleep in the next room and he would wake up soon.

Jack was not dreaming.

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/04/12/tale-weaver-166-a-cold-and-foggy-night/

Thinkers will most agree

Time never stays, it flees

“The time to change your ways is now”

They never seem to answer how

Politicians, bible toters

Even irrational voters

All agree it’s time to act

The problem is, which set of facts

Do or should you choose

No help in the news

All people hold different views

If we can’t unite we will lose

Time repeats, time after time

Experienced again in rhyme

“All good things come to those who wait”

Should we reset time or accept our fate

I hope you have some answers, dear

To me it just seems so unclear.

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/04/15/sunday-writing-prompt-collage-prompt-40/

While I hate to admit defeat

Hearing and listening seems a cheat

In noisy restaurants the words deplete

Not making it across to my seat

〰

Now getting together is really neat

But when you can’t get on your feet

To lean in to have the receipt

Of conversations that are sweet

It’s frustrating to have to bleat

What was that, could you repeat?

〰

I realize it’s not just my problem

Even my youngers could put a rant on

They couldn’t hear said words either

Not just a matter of hearing, neither

It’s that some people should take a breather

And curb their public loudness features.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/deplete/

The dance lessons were not working. Try as she might, her feet did not cooperate. All of her life she loved music, and when at home in her bedroom, she would sway to the notes, feeling like a delicate flower in the breeze. Her mind portrayed a beautiful ballerina’s dance as long as she didn’t open her eyes and look in the mirror.

Madeleine was a pretty fifteen year old girl, not as developed as most of her friends, still in the gawky stage, and shy. The shyness came from her parents’ attitude. It seemed to Madeleine that anything new she attempted was perceived as an affront to them and their tired lives. Being tall and thin, lacking confidence, and receiving no compliments from her parents, it seemed inevitable Madeleine would never be happy. Often taking refuge in her room, she listened to music, and danced with abandon.

Scraping together her saved allowance, Madeleine invested in dance lessons. She secretly attended on “library” afternoons instead of staying and studying. After a few lessons, the instructor pulled her aside and told her the dance lessons were not working. He added that Madeleine was a free spirit as far as dance was concerned and he admired her efforts, but she could never be a professional, it was too rigid. He also told her not to lose her individuality.

Madeleine was disheartened, but left the dance lessons with a boost of confidence to be herself.

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“Bats? Bats? You’re kidding! I’m not going in there!”

“Aww come on, where’s your curiosity, that sense of adventure you’re always bragging about?”

“Well, the only thing I know about bats is they get caught in your hair. I have lovely long hair, Stewart–thought you wanted to spend a pleasant day on the beach, not in a dark cave.”

Stewart, letting her voice trail off, entered the dark moisture of the cave. Suddenly he came running out, holding his bleeding head. Apparently he pulled a tuft of his hair out trying to remove a bat.

“Told you so!”

〰〰

April 12: Flash Fiction Challenge

Okay, I’ve been gone, and it’s time to catch up. J for Jesse, K for Kid, L for Laughable and M for Museum.

Probably should start with J for Jesse, my 15 year old grandson, who I’ve mentioned before. He is receiving the Grand Prize on April 24 from Sharon Robinson. She holds an essay contest promoting the ideals of her father, Jackie Robinson. We are very proud of him. He is one special Kid (K) for many reasons. How many armless kids do you know who can make a three pointer in their first basketball game? Watched him play JV soccer on Thursday- there’s no stopping him!

Now L for Laughable. I always use humor and sometimes as you might imagine, it’s only funny to me. We were at the Museum (M) touring the Dead Sea Scrolls exhibit in Denver. We were in line as a family looking at displays encased in glass boxes on the wall. It was Friday, it was crowded with school groups, and old people like me. I’m at the back of our family line in the wheelchair, which is not conducive in observing wall plaques.

I kept getting hit by a woman’s large purse as she kept crowding me from my right. I finally stopped and said to her, “would you like to go in front of me”, gesturing for her to step in front of me in line. She looked shocked and said, “no”. I said, “go ahead”. She refused and said “aren’t you with them?” pointing to my family. I said “yes, but it’s ok”. She wouldn’t, so I rolled on to catch up. I felt like what probably all little kids feel like in crowds, you’re shorter, you’re always in the way, so just put up with it.

We actually had a great time. However if I never see another clay pot in my life it will be too soon.

http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/