Archive | November, 2014

Don’t Shoot ..

23 Nov

Written for :

Sunday Photo Fiction – November 23rd 2014

88 11 November 23rd 2014

As the first rays of light needle their way through the pines, the twitter of an early bird cuts through the forest. I shiver despite the three layers of clothing I am wearing, dampness settling around me like a wet blanket. I have been here for hours in my hiding place, barely moving ; my eyes riveted to the spot where I have been leaving apples and carrots for the last couple of weeks. Now as dawn settles in  I know that my wait will soon be over.

Then I hear them approach, hesitant at first, but the scent of my offerings soon bring them in to full view. Several white tail deer are in my line of sight but they are not what holds my interest. A little to their left stands a magnificent buck. I raise my arms slowly, aim at him and shoot.

The almost imperceptible sound of my Nikon sends the troupe bounding into the woods but I grin like a fool. I finally got a picture of Rudolph.

Click on the blue frog and enjoy !

Wishing For An Early Spring

16 Nov

Written for :

Sunday Photo Fiction – November 16th 2014

Weird shaped icicles

Harold slid Mam’s rocking chair closer to the window and into the patch of golden sunlight that crept across the polished wood floor. He sat down facing outdoors and watched with child-like excitement as the melting snow and ice formed stars along the gutter’s edge. He took a sip of his tea, closed his eyes and made a wish.

“Star light, star bright..” he chuckled out loud. Mam had taught him to wish upon stars but of course not many of his wishes had come true. No matter how hard or how loud he had made them, Mam would still beat him when the smell of whiskey was heavy on her breath. Now at the age of fifteen his life had finally changed for the better.

Pops had gone on a business trip and while he had been away Mam had deserted her son, leaving in the middle of the night with only her purse. The authorities had been called in but almost four months later she still had not been located.

Harold rose from his seat and made his way down to the basement. Behind a wood pile was a long-forgotten chest freezer. Harold cracked it open and stared in at his mother’s body frozen in the foetal position. “We’re in luck Mam” he whispered “ground should be soft enough for digging in less than a month..”



3 Nov

Admittedly this is not my favorite time of the year. As the frosty mornings make way for the impending snow, my heart and my mood plummet faster than the thermometer. I thought ( foolishly ) that if I just kept busy  this year that perhaps this would ease me through the transition. Alas this is not to be.

Daylight savings time is a bummer. The insomnia that had me up at four has now been displaced to three a.m. I suppose that on the plus side, a house entirely dusted. Vacuumed and washed floors, and two loads of laundry done by five a.m. before I leave for work at five forty-five can seem pretty impressive.

Then there is Angel. Always on my mind and in my heart. As the  third anniversary approaches I feel a tightness in my chest and the desire to cry about anything and everything. “Just get over it” is not an option. Although the pain of losing her has eased somewhat, the emptiness remains. Sweet baby Angel, Nana sends her love.

Bear with me while I climb this hill and then I will be back to enjoy the labors of my favorite bloggers..