Well Ethel, she’s not being discreet anymore!
I know what you mean, Ethel, it’s these modern times. Nowadays they let everything all hang out. At least back in the forties we had the common sense to hide our bicycles behind the corn crib!
I still remember that dreamboat Jimmy–how cute he was, all shiny sweaty from helping our daddy in the hay field.
Yep, me too. Those “ciggie” breaks were fun, eh Alma?
***
https://cyranny.com/2021/07/21/july-21st-1minfiction-challenge/#like-59000
Check out the decade you were born to see what new junk food was invented.
https://lindaghill.com/2021/07/21/one-liner-wednesday-those-arent-trucks/#like-15621
My granddaughter’s friend is debuting her book. You can find her information here:
https://www.effiejoestock.com/
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Also available in a book box!
***
Wearing the latest “style”
Hair long and all messy
Her protruding “guile”
Leaves no one guessing
***
https://godoggocafe.com/2021/07/20/tuesday-writing-prompt-challenge-july-20-2021/
***
Abandoned
Colorful treasures
Meaningful
Years ago
Now merely trinkets of time
I choose to forget
***
***
Her impenetrable scream helped lessen my urgency, her fickle attempt to draw anyone’s attention. If there actually was another human close by, the sound of some maniac coming from the bushes would not encourage investigation. I turned off the headlights and rolled her car down the steep embankment, off the rarely traveled road. If there was anyone passing by, a lurk on the main road would not cause suspicion. I was finally rid of her. The blood streaming into the brambles would soon provide freedom for us both.
***
https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2021/07/19/wordle-250/#like-22390
“No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.”
On a hot autumn afternoon on the shores of the Gulf Coast, my daily job is retrieving oyster meat for local restaurants which cater to the rich. None of these patrons want to know exactly who is retrieving these so called delicacies. If “they” ever saw a ragged colored girl with a knife, even to scrape out those special treats, they would probably run in fright or call the police.
This is the life of the shanty town girls, always a dream in their hearts, but shuffle down to the docks each morning to maintain a piece of dignity having a paying job. They don’t ask why, they are simply indoctrinated.
–Zora Neale Hurston, from “How Does it Feel to be Colored Me” in World Tomorrow (1928)
***
https://dversepoets.com/2021/07/19/dverse-prosery-finding-ms-zora-neale-hurston/#like-22329
https://nadiamerrillphotography.wordpress.com/2021/07/19/a-photo-a-week-challenge-from-the-side/
painted nature note
though beautiful, send warning
in puffy pastels
***
I had thought perhaps a pleasant dream would be tonight’s refrain, hoping to shed the exhausting game in this space of time–a chain of which I seem to find myself bound every night. My body may feel like lead, my eyes tired from a screen, but my thoughts will not recede their game of will over the rest of my body. Weakened from lack of sleep, I once again lean on an elbow, seeking a comfortable position to induce slumber.
***
https://sundaywhirl.wordpress.com/2021/07/18/wordle-510/#like-2483
The Bag Lady 
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