Response – JSW Prompt 2-5-2018

Feel free to join in and respond to the prompt. Please try to keep your response under 300 word (recommended, not law). I will re-blog your post to my site.


“Sad story, that. She was never the same again, so I heard.  Didn’t know her my own self, but I knew some who knew her.

How do you fall into yourself and drown, you ask?

Might fine question, that.

It was this way. The boy was never right, not from the beginning. Shy thing. Wouldn’t make eye contact with no one, wouldn’t speak, hid before his Momma’s skirts like he was afraid of the world.

People said he was touched in the head, but I never thought so. From what I heard, mind you, not knowing the boy my own self, I was always thinking it weren’t his head which was touched, but his heart. Seemed like the boy was born without a heart where ones supposed to be.

As he grew, seemed he just paled away, fading to nothing. See, there weren’t nothing inside to support his body so he just collapsed into hisself and drowned.

Yeah, sad, but that’s life sumtimes. Don’t know what happened to the boy after he drowned in his own blood. Heard once they buried him. Another time, that he just grew so small, he disappeared.

Where do I think he migha gone? Good question that.”

He touched his chest, where his heart didn’t lay, and just smiled.



JSW Prompt 2-12-2018

Feel free to join in and respond to the prompt. Please try to keep your response under 300 word (recommended, not law). I will re-blog your post to my site.


Especially mine.  Idea: write about how several characters have to go into your mind. What horrors await? Plus hilarity ensures.

Sunday Photo Fiction 2-5-2018

 22 Dawn Miller February 4th 2018
© Dawn Miller

Sunday Photo Fiction

A Clearing in the Woods

“Ah, hell no,”Kerry groaned, staring at the wheelbarrow then down the grassy path towards the house site. “Really?”

Jay grinned, tee-shirt sleeve pushed up past his elbows. “Really.”

Kerry muttered something, pulling off his jacket and tossing it over a log.

“At least it’s not raining.”

“That’s a miracle.” He paused. “I thought barn-building went out with the old west.”

With a shrug, Jay lifted up the handles of the wheelbarrow.  “Shows how much you Welsh know about American history.”

“At least Chris is happy.”

They started walking deeper into the woods, following the path, hoping that this house would finally make the lead singer happy.

“Not likely,” Kerry opined to their unspoken thoughts.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I’ll frame a dozen houses if that’s what it takes.”

“Yeah,” Kerry said, pausing a moment to think about life and jobs and friends.

“Yeah. Me, too.”







Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers 2-4-2018

Guide for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
1. A prompt photo will be provided each Monday pm to be used as a base to your story. Please include photo prompt with your story.
2. Linking for this challenge begins on Monday pm and runs to the following Monday pm.
3. Please credit photo to photographer.
4. The story word limit is 100 – 150 words (+ – 25 words). Please try to stay within this limit.
5. Please indicate the number of words in your story at the end of your story. (It doesn’t count into the amount of words).

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Goroyboy

He cupped his hand just so, letting the rays of the sun golden his fingertips as if he held a tiny sun inside. He wasn’t a magician. More of a teacher, guiding those who listened and heard and saw.


“There has to be some way to destroy him.”

“Shootings always worked for ya’ll,” the Sheriff said pleasantly.

“After Waco, we’d be crucified!”

“Well,” with a chuckle, “That was ya’ll fault ya know.”

“Whatever. We need to take this cult down now.”

“Don’t rightly think it’s a cult, son,” the Sheriff said, but no one heard.

The FBI agents huddled, whispering plans.

“Gonna get me a donut,” the Sheriff said and walked out of his office, grabbing a jelly filled on his way out the back door.

“Jake,” he said into his cell.  “You gotta get out of there.”

“Perhaps dying is my way to making my point.”

“Then it’s a stupid point! Just take yours and go.”

“Mine are already gone.”

“Then why the hell didn’t you go with’em?”

“My path is not to run from hell.”

“God-a-lordy!” The sheriff swore as Jake hung up. Stuffed the donut into his mouth.

He hated Mondays.

Sunday Photo Fiction 1-31-2018

20 Eric Wicklund January 28th 2018
Sunday Photo Fiction

One Day In The Garden

“Hey, Chris,” Jay called, “They’ve got you memorialized!”

Chris wandered over. “Damn, my butt looks good.”

“Don’t let your head get bigger.”

“No chance. Look at that leg. Nice.”

“Only you could find a statue sexy.”

“What? You’ve never seen David? Aphrodite and Eros? Venus de Milo? Good god, Jay, what swamp did you crawl out from?”

“Ass. No wait, you think David is sexy?”

“Not in a ‘gotta-have-him’ way, but he is considered rather risque.”

“Newest headlines on National Enquirer! ‘Rock Star Chris Crenshaw in love with statue of David! Begging Italy… Let me take him home!'”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll put him right in my bedroom, gaze lovingly at him at night.”

“Wait, you’re never in your bedroom, at least your home bedroom.”

Chris shrugged. “So he’ll get lonely.”

“We could take him on tour. Work him into the opening number.”

“You tell the roadies they have to move his ass cause I won’t.”

“I guess he’ll have to stay in Italy.”

“We’ll visit him when the tour gets there.”

“Hey, that’s right.” Jay grinned. “A night with David. What a great photo op!”

Chris punched him in the arm and walked away.









Response to JSW Prompt 1-31-2018

Feel free to join in and respond to the prompt. Please try to keep your response under 300 words(a suggestion, not a rule:). If you reply, I will re-blog your post to my site.


And they thought it’d really kill me. Twenty-three years. Bah. A heartbeat in my world. Should have cut off my head or put a spike through my heart. But wait… neither of those would have killed me either. As if I was a vampire.

Stupid humans and their stupid superstitions.

Wasn’t easy to crawl out. Soil gets packed down in 23 years, grass has time to dig in roots. Not to mention the coffin and the vault. Those were the easiest to bypass. Finally, shaking roots and dirt from my hair, I pushed through to the surface and rose, looking grandly around me.

The folks at the graveside service two graves over didn’t take to my appearance so grandly. Typically, they screamed and ran, flowers and dirt flying everywhere. The minister held ground for a moment longer, looking as if he wanted to be brave, save his flock from the demon.

As if. Nor was I a demon, but I guess one can’t expect humanity to know the different. But ghee, my skin isn’t even red! Don’t demons have red skin? Glowing eyes.? Horns? That sort of thing?

Anyway, I  waved as the minister ran, heels flying, then kicked up some heels of my own.

The sun was shining. Clouds drifted lazy. Green grass except around the dug grave.

A beautiful day to be alive!

Welcome back to the world, Loki! Welcome home!