Tag Archives: thoughts

Winter Blues

3 Mar

Written for

Sunday Photo Fiction: March 1, 2015

copyright - Joe Owens 2015

photo copyright – Joe Owens 2015

Winter Blues

Percy and his friends shudder visibly and try to turn their backs to the biting wind. On this seventeenth consecutive day of sub-zero weather, everyone’s nerves are frazzled. What possible reason could their leader have to call a meeting out here this morning? Has the cold affected his brain?


Paulie clears his throat and the flock falls silent

“I imagine you are wondering why I have called you here today..”

The ensemble coos in response

“I have made an amazing discovery” he says proudly puffing out his chest. “I have found a way for us to escape winter. See that warehouse across the street? I have been spying on them . Everything they have shipped out this week is headed to Mexico. We are going to stow away in one of their crates.”

With tears of joy they all fly over and manage to squeeze into a large box of oranges. All that is, except Percy.

As everyone knows, there are leaders and there are followers and fortunately Percy was neither. He sat on top of the “share an idea” sign and watched as the truck carrying his mates left the garage and headed north for Canada.



1 Jun

Written for:

Sunday Photo Fiction: June 1st 2014

Someone told me that shoes over a wire like this, signifies drugs for sale nearby. That may or may not be true. But you could use it for anything.

As ballet class ended, my sister sprinted past me with her sneakers hung across her shoulder. “Last one home is a rotten egg” she called as he leapt on her bike and sped off. “You better stop and change your shoes before you get home or Mama is going to kill you” I yelled at her back as she turned the corner.

As twelve-year-old twins we had three loves. Ballet, our bicycles, and each other. Jillian and I often did not need words to communicate, we had a connection that was beyond explanation. I tucked my dance slippers into my backpack and pedaled off in the same direction that my sister had taken minutes earlier. Suddenly a sharp pain hit me square in my chest nearly knocking me to the ground. I knew in that instant that she had been hurt. Pedalling as fast as I could, I finally caught up to her a mere block from home.

My breath was sucked out of me as I tried to take it all in. The beautiful mauve bicycle with its wheels bent like a piece of modern art. Jill’s shoes that dangled high above on the power lines, then Jill herself lying motionless on a lawn just up ahead. Throwing down my bike I ran to her and dropping to the ground beside her I took her cold hand in mine. As the distant wailing of sirens became louder she slowly opened her eyes and whispered ” I need to change my shoes.”

The Road Less Traveled

10 Apr

Haibun Thinking: Week 12 – April 8th 2014


fork in the road 624151138_f1ff60b2db_oYou think you have life all figured out. The path you follow is comfortable, like your favorite pair of worn out jeans. But then..the bubble you were living in pops without warning.

You find yourself faced with the proverbial fork-in-the-road. With no possibility of going back,  you are left with two choices. Continue to the left and your life will be somewhat the same. You will move forward as before, without effort,  but somehow you feel an emptiness inside. It is as though you have lost something along the way.

To the right, the road is less traveled. Many obstacles will get in your way and the path is rough with things that can trip you. If you should choose to go this route your progress will be slow and sometimes difficult. What to do?

My decision was not made lightly. After much soul-searching I have decided to go right. It is possible that I may fall flat on my face but at the end of the day I hope to feel a sense of accomplishment, something that has been sorely lacking in my life.

donning new shoes

I leave my self doubt

at the fork in the road



A farewell

3 Apr


Mrs L. passed away last weekend just a few days short of her 101st. birthday. In spite of her advanced age, her memory never failed her.

Her recollections of life in the early ninteen-hundreds , the old photographs she shared with me , the living history from someone who lived it..these things can never be replaced.

As I cleaned her house for the last time today, I took at my place on the sofa next to the chair where she would sit while we had our “visits” and said farewell.

She once told me that she worried God had forgotten her, she has now found her peace.

Trifextra 103

24 Feb
Trifextra: Week 103
On now to our quick and dirty Trifextra prompt.  Plenty of times over the past two and a half years, we’ve given you the beginning of a story and asked for you to complete it.  This time, we are giving you the end, and we are asking you to start it for us.  We want 33 words in addition to and preceding the following:
That wasn’t what I meant
I certainly did not mean it literally. What the hell were you thinking? When you asked me if you should have cosmetic surgery done and I said that it was a no brainer that wasn’t what I meant..
Trifextra: Week 103

Three Words

1 Jan
Trifextra: Week Ninety-Nine
Michael Hess inspired us with his three word New Year’s resolution – just be nice.  We’re asking for your own resolutions in just three words.  Make it count; we’ll be checking back in come 2015
believe in myself


Michael Hess inspired us with his three word New Year’s resolution – just be nice.  We’re asking for your own resolutions in just three words.  Make it count; we’ll be checking back in come 2015. – See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.nxE8mZBM.dpuf

Trifextra: Week Ninety-Nine


26 Dec

Friday Fictioneers :

27 December 2013

Copyright - Douglas M MacIlroy

Photo Copyright – Douglas M MacIlroy


Excitement builds as midnight approaches. Dawn of a new year, new beginnings, promises made and soon  forgotten.
Fatigued by the effort of feigning happiness so as not to spoil Christmas for everyone around her, Margaret is already fast asleep.
It has been this way, since the age of five when an act of cruelty brought  the reality of Santa and the joy of the season crashing down. Fifty years later she is still barely able to keep the tears in check.
Yes tomorrow will be a good day. Decorations will be put away and the masquerade ball will finally be over for another year.

Tidings Of Comfort And Joy

22 Dec

39 12 December 22nd 2013

Sunday Photo Fiction: December 22nd 2013

Two little children sit in front of the tree, mesmerized by the reflection of the lights in the golden balls. They are much too young to understand cancer and medical bills, unemployment and poverty. All they know is that tonight is the big night, Santa will somehow find his way in to their tiny appartement and leave gifts under the tree.

Mother shoos them off to bed warning them to keep their eyes tightly shut as she reads them “The Night Before Christmas”. They are fast asleep before she gets to the last page.

Wiping away her silent tears she returns to the living room, bending over she slides two beautifully wrapped gifts from under the sofa. “From Santa” the cards read.

Each box holds a hand-made sweater that has taken her many a late night to knit. The yarn of the softest wool purchased with the sale of her engagement ring.

She places the gifts beneath the tree knowing their father looks down from heaven , pleased with what she has done. “Merry Christmas Paul” she whispers as she turns off the lights.


May the best gift you receive be the joy of family. Merry Christmas to all.

Button it up Grannie – A Rant

19 Dec



Does being of a “certain” age give a person immunity to say whatever they wish?  Because you are over the age of seventy-something you give yourself the right to use racial slurs and voice your opinion on everything and anything without impunity. Is this acceptable behavior even today?

The person I speak of has no qualms about what spews from her mouth. When told of the death of a child she responded with ” oh well, they can have another”. No sympathy ? O.K. got it.

This woman dislikes immigrants, gays, the mentally disabled, politicians ( I’ll give her that one ), and most people under the age of forty.

Yesterday when she used the word ree-tard ( she likes to stretch it out ) I called her on it, telling her that it was rude to use that term. She stared at me and answered ” What do you want me to call them, that’s what they are?”

Honestly I was taken aback. Are we supposed to ignore their behaviour because they are elderly. I highly doubt that it is because they don’t know any better, I think it is their way of letting us know that we can’t and  won’t change them.

So, folks, what is the cut-off point where the brain stops working and the mouth continues to move and the filth from your mouth becomes socially acceptable ?

Into the light

9 Dec

Sunday Photo Fiction: December 8th 2013

37 12 December 8th 2013

Photo copyright: A. Forbes

Into The Light

Each time the scenario is the same. I move toward the soft glow of the pink light, intrigued by the reflection I see in the center. The only sounds that accompany me are my heavy breathing and the clicking of heels on the cement floor. My heels?

As I get closer the reflection becomes a window through which I can see a man who looks like a much younger version of my father. He holds a girl- child tightly by her wrist, compelling me to move closer to try to hear what he is saying. I have never gotten this close before.

I reach out to slide…

A snapping of fingers propels me back  to the Psychiatrist’s sofa where I lay shivering, exhausted, and angry.

“I cannot allow it” she says calmly from the other side of the room “you are not  yet ready to open that window”.

I weep