Earthen cathedrals:

August Writing Prompts

Was it your voice, the sexy accent that I love?

Was it the hint of cologne when my lips brushed your neck?

Was it your smile that stirred my heart?

Was it your touch that made me giddy with delight?

Or was it the taste of hunger as you kissed me?

FOWC with Fandango — Sensual

Saturday morning between six and six-thirty we in the complex, especially me since I’m about fifty feet away from these beauties (apartment dumpsters), a cacophony of garbage trucks is heard.

This occurs every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday morning. Since my building is the furthest from the main street, we are the first ones emptied. The trucks are big with loud engines, deep and rough treads rumble through the parking lot and delightful backup, get-out-of-the-way beeping begins. The actual dumping isn’t that loud unless a resident (as they did this week) decides to discard their couch. The recycle bin is always overflowing so maybe that was the reason to see half a couch topping the regular dumpster.

I’m not complaining, the idea that garbage is not left to cause icky odors is welcomed. Being this close, I add I’ve never smelled anything originating from the bins.

The old steam engine locomotive started up about eight, downtown, for tourists to see and ride, so that type of noise is comforting. You take the bad with the excellent!

🚂🚂🚂🚂

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/08/18/cacophany/

This is one of the most fun prompts ever. You never know how many words it’s going to be, interesting Prompt choices, so join in the fun!

Ragged clothes hanging on his bony frame, the old man shuffled his feet to the bench in the corner of the shop doorway. It was Monday again and many well-to-do businessmen would be passing. The derelict hoped one or two decides to spare a coin.

https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2018/08/18/weekend-writing-prompt-68-derelict/

“I heard them whisper. It’s very rude to whisper in a third party’s presence. Of course not surprising since their parents don’t have many manners either. Young people these days–I just wanted to shout at them, “can’t you see I’m right here? Why are you whispering?” Of course I didn’t, that would be rude.”

This humid day, Mary had asked them to help weed the garden. Realizing it was sticky and hot, made lemonade from real lemons, and their favorite Coca Cola was in the fridge. She rose early in the day to make their favorite lunch and cookies for dessert. So why were they over there, whispering and giggling? It was just plain rude.

The two helpers were not making fun of their old aunt, in fact they enjoyed visiting and helping when they were asked. They knew there would be treats for them as always, even though they didn’t expect her to actually do anything except observe.

Aunt Mary’s birthday, which she had apparently forgotten, was on this day. The two children were whispering and giggling over the fact their parents were planning a special surprise dinner for her at their home. Sending the children over to occupy their aunt was a ploy to keep her busy.

Mary poured the lemonade into two ice filled cups, and pulled out her hanky to dry her hands. She picked up her book and mumbled something they couldn’t hear, but they kept on working, trying not to disclose the secret.

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/08/18/saturday-mix-opposing-forces-18-august-2018/

It’s still Friday night but since I have visitors at seven am tomorrow, I’m writing this now. I tried out a few words, but reading blogs, comments, etc, I picked critic and critical.

🗣🗣🗣

Reading blogs, I’m not critical

I know my own are fairly typical

Before you decide to be a critic

Try not to be too analytic

Everyone here’s doing their best

So nothing rude, even in jest

Course I’ve refused that bidding

Wrote a comment with intended kidding

But if I offended, ’twas not my intent

Hours of reading blogs are spent

If I see something I like, I like it a lot

Try to give the best comment I’ve got

Let you know I appreciate your thoughts

Or laughed till I’m silly, my eyes needed blots

There’s always those who think we’re wrong

That’s life, so take it with a song

That’s all for this time, have a great day

I’ll return to reading and scribbling away.

https://rugby843.blog/2018/08/17/socs-aug-18-18-ic-or-ical/

“(I’m a) Ramblin’ Wreck from Georgia Tech” is the fight song of the Georgia Institute of Technology, better known as Georgia Tech. The composition is based on “Son of a Gambolier”, composed by Charles Ives in 1895, the lyrics of which are based on an old English and Scottish drinking song of the same name.[3] It first appeared in print in the 1908 Blueprint, Georgia Tech’s yearbook. The song was later sung by the Georgia Tech Glee Club on The Ed Sullivan Show in 1953, and by Richard Nixon and Nikita Khrushchev during the 1959 Kitchen Debate.[4][5][6][7]

Of course my husband was a Mine’s man, so his version is here:

Same tune as the one below. I remember him singing it on long car trips across country. We did a lot of singing on those trips.☺️

https://thehouseofbailey.wordpress.com/2018/08/18/scotts-daily-prompt-engineer/

It was sort of a pout

Putting her lips out

Making a face

In the perfect place

A flirt of sorts

Hear the retorts?

Whistles and grins

Thinking hidden sins

Boys seemed to love it

She wasn’t above it

Using those lips

Swinging those hips

She knew exactly what she wanted

Lavender lipstick perfectly flaunted.

August Writing Prompts

I just said I don’t have the energy anymore.

–But that’s not what you really meant, was it?

What are you implying?

–I’m not implying, I’m stating a fact.

And what fact is that?

–That you don’t care.

Don’t care? After thirty years, you’re telling me I don’t care?

–Yes, you don’t care anymore and it kills me.

Look, I’m right here, aren’t I? I’ve been here always.

–You’re here, but you’re not HERE.

I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Am I here or not?

–I’m talking about right here, beside me. Like you used to be.

Okay, now I’m really confused. I’m here, in bed, with you, and nowhere else.

–Yes, but not really.

Okay, I give up. Why not?

–Because when I came to bed, next to you, you said you didn’t have the energy anymore.

I still don’t understand, I’m here, I’m just tired. I don’t have the energy to be with you, you know, WITH you, not tonight.

–That’s what I mean, you’re here but you’re not.

Are you TRYING to drive me nuts, or what? I’m here, I love you, I’m just tired.

–Alright, forget it. I was just trying to express my feelings, be honest with you.

Are we done? I’m going to sleep.

–I guess we are, . . .done. . .a good word for it.

https://rachelpoli.com/2018/08/17/time-to-write-only-dialogue-creative-writing-prompt/

https://rugby843.blog/2018/08/17/fowc-with-Fandango-energy/

The sun simmered red as it slunk towards the jagged horizon.  Another day gone, he thought to himself. How can such a beautiful sunset appear after a day like this?

It started out well, everyone smiling at breakfast, anxious to get on with their day. He arrived at the office early and even signed that much needed client. He was proud of himself for it and ate lunch with his supervisor in celebration. Joe worked hard in his life, married young and had three children early in their time together. It worked out well even though they had to scrimp here and there some months. He was a happy man, not ecstatically so, but probably more than the average man.

Joe’s wife, Mary was also working, helping to make things run smoothly, while their three children made them both proud. College tuition loomed for the oldest, but Mary’s contribution would help. Scholarship applications were furiously mailed out and their life was a happy one.

This afternoon Joe received the phone call no one ever wanted. His son was involved in a bicycle car accident and was in the hospital. Joe and Mary stood by their oldest son’s bedside, praying for a miracle.

Going home to bed, Joe looked again at horizon, shook his head in sorrow. Joe and Mary both received no respite that night. Their life seemed over with, even though their two remaining children were perfectly healthy. Their first born was gone. Wondering why was on their minds, why this tragedy, and why inflicted on them? Joe took one last glance at the now clouded moonlit night. We did our best, so why? Was it all for nothing? He received no answer.

https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/08/17/first-line-friday-august-17th-2018/