Empty  by Trent P. McDonald #writephoto

I awoke at dawn, as always, even though his alarm obviously didn’t go off.  I wasn’t hungry, so I did my morning walk through the wisps of the dying fog on getting up.  Breakfast could wait.

The fields, ever my friends, called my name and welcomed me as I forged a path through the dew-damp weeds.  The wet cold of my shoes kept me cleanly in the present, forcing me to take in the spenders of the new day.  The distant trees, still a mirage only glimpsed as the sun burned away the mist, for some reason reminded me of him.  My heart beat faster, as my brain told me lies.

Continue reading: Empty – #writephoto

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Notes from a small dog – The gloating mole

Frankly, there is no doing anything with her today.  It doesn’t take much to make her happy… give her an ice-cream, a five minute break from tennis-ball-throwing or a whiff of heather and she’s content. Not that she is getting any of those…. and not that she should have anything much to be happy about at present. She’s wandering around looking like a sunburnt mole again…and she has all week.

Her eyes are all hidden in the pink, puffy stuff she calls skin. Well, when I say all, I mean both of them.  Even she is not weird enough to have more than two, though you would think she must have some in the back of her head sometimes…’specially when the fridge is open… You know, if she wanted that cheese, you’d think she’d have eaten it by now…

She keeps going in the fridge, though. Not for cheese…just for ice pack thingys to stick on her eyes. And she even knows what I’m up to when she has both eyes covered! Wonder if she has a four-legged sense of smell, a proper one, not the normal two-leg nose? Mind, I probably shouldn’t mention noses… the eyes are bad enough and she gets a bit touchy.

So, what with the weather warming up a bit and her raiding the fridge all the time, I thought that’s what she was talking about when she was gloating about being cool. But no… I did some ‘vestigating and found someone with a cat had called her a ‘cool kid’.

Well… if she’s cool (apart from the ice packs) I’ll eat my tennis ball! As for ‘kid’…who is she kidding? More of a nanny…

Still, it made her smile (which just hid her eyes even more…) so I suppose I’ll stop laughing sometime soon. If she remembers we ran out of treats.

She says it is my own fault and that I’ll get fat. I say she was the one who left the whole, new pack of treats out when she went for a shower. If she’d opened them for me, I would probably only taken the one…or two… but with no thumbs and only teeth to work with, it got a bit messy, so I thought I should clean  up. Just to help, you know.

Housework is good for burning fat, she says, so I cleaned up really well.  I was just glad the smoke alarm didn’t go off! She shouldn’t be eating that cheese anyway…

So there’s her growling at me…and me thinking I’d done a good job. She seems to think I didn’t clean up well enough though, ’cause she’s getting the hoover-monster out. It is all a matter of pursep perse how you look at it.

I’d better go hide.

Much love,

Ani xxx

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White-Skunk seeks medicine VII… Stuart France


… Rice-Bird now knew the thing that Skunk feared and he began to throw his voice in a whistle from Skunk’s back-pack.

“Ugh!” cried Skunk when he heard the whistle and he turned and fled in the opposite direction.

But Rice-Bird threw his voice into a whistle again and again stopped Skunk in his tracks.

“Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!” cried Skunk.

But whichever way Skunk fled, Rice-Bird threw his voice into a whistle which sounded like it was coming from up ahead and it was not long before Skunk was exhausted from running in circles without getting anywhere.

Skunk collapsed onto the ground, prostrate. “I am tired,” he said to himself, “it is too much for me to be carrying such a weight on my back, I will hang up my brother, here, while I go on and then return for him later.”

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Hope #midnighthaiku

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Thursday photo prompt – Empty #writephoto


Nip over to Sue Vincent’s site to check on this week’s photoprompt:

This picture reminds me of a beach on the outskirts of my home town:
This was not the way for the prim, naive, or inhibited.
Pass this point and you were expected to join the ranks of those beyond the dunes.
Here you could cast off your worries as well as your clothes and become one with Nature.
Naked in all your glory, nothing remained hidden.
Welcome to the South’s first Nudist Beach.

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Empty  by Sarah #writephoto

They’d just got the big field cut when they were called away. My dad and my brothers headed off to town one Tuesday morning, in the early, misty morning. They were just going to a meeting, they said, but they didn’t come back. By Saturday the corn was dry, and the men still gone. We hadn’t heard anything. Our nearest neighbour came over on Sunday, and told us her husband and nephew had gone, too. Not a man left over 14 and under 70 anywhere from here to Plymouth, that’s what she told us, before she headed back the couple of miles to her own place.
Mam rolled up her sleeves, then, and headed out to the field, taking me with her. We spent the afternoon raking and piling up the dried stalks of corn, ready to load them onto the cart. It was hot and dusty, and we didn’t talk much. Mam looked out over the hay meadow and shook her head.

Continue reading here: Empty – #writephoto for Sue Vincent.

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Opening Scene: Ichabod Brooks & the Starwind Egg by Charles E. Yallowitz

Ichabod Brooks

Reblogged from Legends of Windemere:

(As stated, I’m going to publish the first part of each of the new Ichabod stories.  Hope everyone enjoys the teasers.  I only have the one Ichabod picture to work with too until I get cover art.)

Ichabod Brooks takes another sip of whiskey as the cluster of oxen and carts come into view. The small collection sits a quarter mile away from the base of Galaces Mountain, an enchanted rope preventing them from getting any closer. The blue-eyed adventurer adjusts the dark red cloak to make his ebony longbow more accessible, but he knows the weapon will be covered again before he needs it. Ichabod does not have to wonder why he is getting nervous even though it will be his fourth time up the mountain. While not the longest climb, Galaces is infamous for its unique creatures, shifting winds, and what many believe to be a primal intelligence deep within the very stone. There are usually only two reasons to challenge the mountain, which are poaching and to say you reached the cloud-covered peak. In his youth, Ichabod made the climb simply to see if he could do it, but every other time, including today, has been for a very special job.

A faint sparkle catches the veteran’s attention and he carefully reaches into a thorn bush to claim the dark purple object. Ichabod winces at the pokes to his knuckles as he gently frees the beautiful feather. It is as long as his hand and wider than two fingers, telling him that it came from an adolescent Starwind Eagle. It has been a decade since his last trip to Galaces and he was unable to see the magnificent birds due to a storm. He had hoped to gather enough feathers to make a cloak for his wife, but nature had foiled his anniversary plans and forced him to return to her empty-handed. Letting the mesmerizing plumage float back into the bush, Ichabod decides that he will not settle for anything less than the feather of an adult. He refuses to return home in failure, especially since it is for his son and he has already spent the last month telling the child bedtime stories about the Starwind Eagles.

Continue reading at Legends of Windemere

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