The Bag Lady

https://rugby843.blog

Little boy blue was late. He was always late because he was always oversleeping. Every time he heard the scream, “come blow your horn” he knew there was going to be trouble. And of course it was his fault, taking every opportunity to nap in the haystack while he ignored his real job, protecting the crops. No one knew the real reason behind boy blue taking so many naps, but now it will be revealed.

Instead of sleeping at night, little boy blue indulged in his dream, his real reason for living, ballet. This night time activity was a passion never known to the master of the farm. And it was not, until. . .

Sleeping soundly on the hay after a particularly late evening of dancing, he suddenly awoke to see the farm’s master standing above him. “Sleeping again, I see! What in tarnation are you wearing? Are those ballet shoes?”

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2018/09/06/three-things-challenge/

Image by Jodi McKinney

*****

Old fashioned wooden fence keeping us out

Or rails of timber keeping them in

Buildings in the distance, a house, a home, perhaps a farm

Summer morning mist rising throughout

The heat of the grass

Combined with the coolness of the air

Green warm meadow soaked with nightly dew

Now water vapor returning to the clouds

Seen as a summer morning dreamscape

What fairy tables could be hidden there

The leftovers from a mysterious night

Tiny creatures scurrying home before the sun’s hot glow

A tranquil scene showing summer’s rotating atmosphere.

*****

91 words

https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2018/09/03/fffaw-challenge-181st/

How appropriate for today.

~~~~~~~~~~

A tell all book

From behind the scenes

Bet it makes the big man scream

Since no faith or even trust

They did and said what they must

Now many secrets are revealed

Telling how they really feel

They can whine and they can cry

Try as they might to deny

What all of us have suspected

Since wannabe dictator was elected.

https://dailyaddictions542855004.wordpress.com/2018/09/02/daily-addictions-2018-week-35/

Torment is reading excerpts of the new book by Bob Woodward about the Trump presidency. Will this damning revelation be Trump’s demise? We can speculate, but what if he does get impeached? Is the “devil you know” better than his replacement? Or should we rely on Quicksilver to save us all? My choice is Q!

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/09/06/torment/

Making goulash the other day

Cut up a big onion on the way

It wasn’t one of the sweet ones I adore

So decided to use less not more

Then I surveyed the can cupboard fare

Thought I had some tomato sauce there

Not even a tiny can of paste

Is my goulash going to waste?

I had already joined the onion and beef

Then spied tomato soup, a relief

Saucy suspicions as I contemplate

Using it for the sauce complete

No choice I had so threw it in

Delicious, as it dribbles my chin.

*****Found some cool sheets of substitutions:

September Writing Prompts

Image: DeviantArt

Heart

The tears

All the truth

Now hacked away

The time has come for the final goodbye.

Weekly Writing Prompt #157

Are you my sweetie?

You’re round and soft in the middle

Hard on the outside but all I need

It’s that string I need to pull

Yes there you go, my yoyo

One string pull to let you free

I want to hold you like the toy you are

I won’t try to mold you like my silly putty

But you are my silly, aren’t you?

You are my sweetest treat

No moon pies for me, just you.

**

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2018/09/05/three-things-challenge/

I couldn’t grasp what was going on. Out of the trapdoor in the attic, a form, a shell of a person, flew into the room. It was grey, no, red, then it was black, then grey again. A huge puzzle to the eyes and nubilious in the judgment of an experienced mind.

I did not believe my eyes. My brain started to sizzle as I peered at the spectre. My vision would not infuse my brain to understand what I was seeing.

A man in the corner fell back into his chair in shock. It was a hagridden image of his dead wife. It swirled around him and lifted him back towards the trapdoor.

The unfortunate man was never seen again. After close inspection of the attic no remains were found and the others who witnessed it, never spoke of it again.

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/09/03/wordle-209/

Sitting on the fence

The peanuts had not appeared

Observing, waiting

Wild tail twitching, nose sniffing

Hope children did not forget

http://ramblingsofawriter2016.com/2018/09/05/weekly-tanka-prompt-poetry-challenge-week-112-hope-observing/