The Blog Propellant · writing

25 Minutes


We had 25 minutes.

Only 25 minutes to get to Reseda.

Chet was driving. Driving like a fiend,

his foot pushed through the floorboards of the old F150,

navigating towards the carpool lane

for the trip up the 405.

I checked my seat-belt – low and tight.

Then closed my eyes and held on for dear life.

Ever confident that Chet knew the way.

When we slowed,

I looked around.

The pavement had ended where the fire road began.

“This doesn’t look right, Chet. Where are we?”

“I’m not sure where we are.” He grinned.

“But we’re making great time!”

25 minutes, all in. I wrote this at work, as I really shouldn’t do. I was called into a meeting before I was done but I stopped my timer and restarted it when I got back. I stopped when the timer hit 25 minutes and copied it to WP. If I’m choosing a number this week it has to be 25.

The Blog Propellant · writing

The Getaway


“You look beautiful, Margie. You look like a princess.” Genny told her.

“Do you think so? I don’t feel beautiful. I feel like I need to take a shower.”

“Oh, don’t talk like that. It’s your wedding day.”

“I know that, but I’m marrying a guy they call ‘Jimmy the Fish’. Does that seem right to you Genny? Huh? I was supposed to grow up and marry Bobby Parr and live happily ever after. I wasn’t supposed to marry Jimmy the Fuckin’ Fish!”

“But you agreed to this.”

“Not really.

“My Dad did. The Fish gave my dad a parking garage on 92nd Street. Suddenly, I was engaged.”

“Come on Margie, It’s not gonna be that bad… he’s got a house on the Cape ya know.”

“Does that make it OK, Genny? Does that make it OK for me to share my bed with a man named ‘The Fish’? I don’t think so… I don’t think so.

“Can you cover for me. I need at least an hour’s head start.”

“You know it won’t be good if they ever find you.”


Random Scribbles · writing

Be Careful What You Wish For


Suspended between the two worlds, Abel hung motionless, his eyes closed. He needed to think about this some more. He needed to be certain that he was making the right choice.

Benjamin had promised that if he moved to the next world he would have everything he had ever wished for, power and riches hitherto undreamed of. These dreams and distractions were the reason he had acted, and begun to climb. What was he waiting for? Now was the time to act. To claim his destiny. Indeed, he deserved no less.

In the old world he was a pauper yet, he wanted for little. There was always enough. He had good friends, a loving wife and children.

In the new world men would seek his counsel, women would desire him. He should go.

Then, eschewing the power and the money he began his descent. Began his journey back home.


Random Scribbles · writing

The Race


Spring is on us, the season has begun.
Bursting from the gate like a shot, I’m off and
with each step I reach a little bit further, loosening and lengthening my stride one pace at a time.

Urged ever faster, ever forward by the guiding hand who fearlessly gives me my rein.
Whose intense focus  and confidence in me is contagious.
It flows like water, downward into my psyche.
by gravity?
by force of will?
by osmosis?

Slowly I pull away from the pack.
Running, it’s what I do.
what I was born to do.
what I live for.

I have no anger when I run.
Running, it’s my passion.
there is no fear when I run.
there is no flaw when I run.

I am perfection in motion.

A Monday afternoon response to another Monday Writing Prompt generously provided by The Secret Keeper.


The Blog Propellant · writing

Cats, As In “More Than One”

TBP On-Line Writer’s Guild

“Mom, Mom, can you lend me your shoes till Monday?”

“Beth, are you nuts? You want to wear my shoes? Which ones do you want, the red strapless ones with the two inch heels? Did that Saunders boy finally ask you out?”

“No, I want…”

“You can’t have the Jimmy Choo’s so don’t even think about those!”

“No, I’m more interested in…”

My trainers? Last time I loaned you my trainers you mowed the yard in them. I never did get the grass stains out. I had to buy new shoes.”

“Your Ugg Boots, Mom. It’s your Ugg Boots I want to borrow. And I’ll probably want to keep them longer than just till Monday, too.”

“Those horrible things? I can’t let you wear those. Absolutely not, those are only for wearing around the house when no one, and I really mean no one, is coming over. I wouldn’t send a dog out in those things. Why would you want them anyway?”

“I don’t want to wear them, Mom and I wouldn’t put them on Rover either. I need ‘em for something else.”

“Beth, have you seen my lighter, I swear I put it down right here next to my cigarettes. Where could it have gotten off to?”

“Your lighter’s behind you, Mom, next to the stove. I need the shoes for the cats.”

“Cats, we only have one cat! What on earth would Mama Kitty want with my ugly old Ugg Boots?”

She stared at her daughter waiting for a response. The unlit cigarette between her lips and a flame licking up from the Zippo she held in her hand, forgotten.

“Uhm, Mama Kitty just had kittens. There’s seven of them; so it’s cats. They’re in a box at the back of my closet with some old tee shirts and your Ugg Boots. I don’t want to take anything away from them.”

Mom flicked the Zippo closed.

“Seven of them?”

Beth nodded and they started moving together towards the back part of the house.

“Can I see them? Are they all OK? Do I need to get a wind up clock? I’ve heard that they like the ticking from an old fashioned clock. I’ll run to Garvey’s Market and pick up some food and kitty litter. We weren’t planning on this many cats. I’m so unprepared!”

“Mom, Mom, settle down, we don’t need cat food or litter. At least not yet. Mama Kitty will take care of that stuff. I just need to borrow your boots. They like that fleecy lining, I think. If you have an old clock then by all means get it but it’s not mandatory.”

They got to her room and Beth opened the closet door. She pushed some clothes aside and showed her mom the seven baby kittens and Mama Kitty cuddled together amidst the boots and jersey cotton shirts.

“I didn’t even know she was expecting, Beth. Did you?”

That’s it – 25 minutes and I ran out of time so I stopped. I spent an additional 5 minutes fixing typos and spelling errors so, 30 minutes total but still pretty raw. I was having fun with this one though.


Random Scribbles · writing

Still Not Yet?


Dug in,
Crouching in the trenches;
“Not yet,” the Lieutenant told us,
“Wait for them to get really close.”


“Do you have that new book by that wonderful new author?” I asked.
“Not yet,” the shop assistant said, “they sold out the first run in less than an hour. We all have to wait.”


“Are we there yet?”


“Mom, Dad; this is my new boyfriend, The Abominable Snowman. I call him Yeti, not Yet, but Yeti. He doesn’t like it when people call him Yet… too informal.”


“Jimmy, have you finished your homework?”


“I’m famished. Is dinner ready?”


Somewhere in this house, there’s a plate that holds my past.
Irene says that if we put it in the dishwasher we can have a new life.
Maybe a better life.
I like my life just fine…
When she tries to clear the dishes, I ask her to wait a while.
“Not yet.” I plead.


I don’t have a job.
Denise is the breadwinner of this family.
She calls me a freeloader.
She says I’m irresponsible.
She wants me to pawn my guitar and get a job.
“Not yet.” I tell her.


I wiped the sweat from my brow and hold the cutters close to the wires. My heartbeat is a Taiko rhythm inside my chest.
Blue or red? I have a 50/50 chance.
Murphy says that when you have a 50/50 chance you’ll choose wrong 90% of the time.
“We’re running out of time. Have you disarmed it?” Murphy asked.
“Not yet Murph; and I blame you.”


I peered into the shop and saw them in there. They weren’t doing anything important so I tapped on the glass.
The woman with the big hair looked up at me from her desk.
I pointed to my watch, “Are you open?” I ask through the locked door, with the “CLOSED” sign hanging inside.
“Not yet,” she said and turned back to her colleagues to tell another story.


I spied the pile of oily rags piled in the closet.
“I’m amazed this place hasn’t burned down already.”

“Aren’t you done with this prompt, TN?”

“Not yet!”

Random Scribbles · writing

Picture Prompt #47


Jake slowly raised his head and peered down the gloomily lit seventh floor hallway. He listened to the silence, waiting. The floor that he and Ma lived on was brighter than this one. You could always smell the sauces cooking in Old Lady Dardanelles apartment and the classical music coming through Mr. Collander’s door. You could hear people laughing and children playing down there on the third floor but not here. The seventh was as silent as a tomb.

Photo courtesy of The Blog Propellant

Then he heard it, there it was! No mistaking it, but it came only once. It was coming from 7 that was for sure. The hair stood up on his arms and he knew that he had to go forward. Ma had told him not to come up here. He wouldn’t get any help from her. He was in full disobedience mode, he was on his own and he was scared. At least the hallway was carpeted so he could step silently. He supposed that was a good thing.

All the doorways were on the left, windows on the right. Windows had all been blacked out. He stopped at the first door and got down on his hands and knees, looking for light coming out from below – nothing. He put his ear against the cool wood and listened. Maybe he heard a soft scratching sound but he couldn’t be sure. It was probably his imagination. It wasn’t the cackle that he had heard before. He listened for a while longer and then crept deeper into his nightmare. His hands were shaking, his mouth was dry, and his heart was racing. A timpani drum was pounding in his chest.

He heard it again. It was coming from the end of the hall. He heard the cackle and a rustling noise that might have been paper or clothing or, God forbid, may have been wings folding back in place behind the angel of death or behind Richard.

Ma had told him stories of Richard whose wings turned black with the full moon and hindered his ability to fly and hunt. Maybe he and Wilson, his magnificent and bloodthirsty lion companion, were hiding on 7 waiting for his wings to change back so they could hunt from the air again. He knew from Ma’s stories that they were killers. They killed for amusement and they killed for food.

Was it a full moon? He couldn’t remember. He heard the cackle again, the lights flickered but he saw nothing down the hall. Jake pulled himself erect and threw his shoulders back, show no fear.

“Who’s there?” he called. The lights went out and he heard the sounds of scuffling and that cackle again. Jake yelped.

Seconds later, the lights came back on there was a man leaning against the wall, not three feet in front of Jake. He wore a black suit and had black wings folded behind him. His dark hair was slicked back, heavily pomaded, perfectly coiffed.

“Look, Wilson.” the man said, “Dinner has arrived. I’m famished.”

Jake looked over his shoulder when he heard the roar, “Splendid.” The lion said and he roared a second time.



Crisp, Clean, Minimalist Entryway Design

Thursday Doors

Hospital Doors - I'm fond of the lighting here.
Hospital Doors – I’m fond of the lighting here.

The clean lines and the cool white lighting of this entryway make these, otherwise pedestrian, industrial doors stand out from the millions of others which have been cut from the same cloth. With all the code restrictions and liability concerns these days I find it admirable that these guys were able to comply with all the restrictions and impositions and still maintain an attractive entrance for their patients.