OLWG · writing

OLWG# 249- Uncaged

Written for OLWG# 249



Wallace tugged the bill of his John Deere ball cap lower. He stood, called to his mom and walked out the front door into the golden light of early evening. He walked to Rebecca Shepard’s house. She was sitting on the wide front porch with her mother, the orange sunset shining from behind her hair. He watched for a bit, and then he turned, walked away.

It was almost 11:30 when he returned. The Shepard house was dark except for the porch light, shining faint. No competition to the blanket of stars that glowed in the night sky. The full moon hung high. It was brilliant but mute, making not a sound.

Reaching into his pocket, he removed a crumpled scrap of ruled notebook paper. Rebecca had handed it to him at the end of World History. Wallace smoothed the note and scanned it for the 100th time. Each time he read it, it read the same.

come see me tonight,
don’t knock, don’t ring the front bell
climb in my window


This week’s prompts were:

  1. wine coloured birthmark
  2. not a place you want to go
  3. climb in my window

OLWG · writing

OLWG# 248- Organized Crime Squad

Written for OLWG# 248



Officer Panatone was new to the squad. He was not yet hip to the rhythm and flow of the way LT did things in Organized Crime, so when she sent him to run surveillance on Joey the Fish’s operation at the harbour, she should ‘a sent someone else with him. Maybe me, or Becky, hell; maybe even Lawman Lawson (that gung-ho MF). She should never a sent Panatone by himself, but her heart was in the right place, she was trying to set him up for success, and nothing builds confidence like an early win.

 

Now, this wasn’t a hard job, but Panatone was green, and LT misjudged HOW green he was. Here’s the way it unfolded.

 

We all showed up for roll call, and Panatone drew the assignment of surveillance on Joey the Fish. Becky got to interview a few more witnesses, trying to nail down the case against Councilman Bates. Lawman got stuck in the squad room going over paperwork to see if we might ‘a overlooked something on Bates. LT wanted me to accompany her to the Harbour Master’s office. Everyone was cautioned about being careful, getting back safe (same as always), and we headed off.

 

The first problem was: Panatone was not familiar with the docks, and he went to The Fish House; instead of the warehouse. The Fish House is on the waterfront, but it’s not a hotbed of criminal activity; it’s an upscale seafood restaurant where the glitz and glamour kids like to dine and sip champagne.

 

The second problem was: He didn’t just surveille the Fish House… he raided it and rounded up a bunch of the customers and employees there. He radioed for assistance, so the station house sent a wagon and a few officers to help.

 

We found him back at headquarters later that night. He was booking the cooks.


This week’s prompts were:

  1. groomed for success
  2. cook the books
  3. cold, cold ground

writing

Ancho

It took weeks for me to traverse the desert, climb into the hills, and arrive at the small town of Ancho. As was the custom, I lit a fire outside of town and waited for recognition by the residents. It was two days before anyone came to question me, to discover my purpose.

They sent a Shieldmaiden who hailed me from the edge of the wood. “Traveller,” she hailed. “I am called, Salique. I am sent by the council of Ancho. Identify yourself and your purpose for coming.”

“I am Boltof of Roselea,” I yelled back. “I have travelled from the high deserts, below, to warn of terrible happenings there and in the lowlands.”

“Are you armed?”

“Indeed, a Kukri, I carry on my belt.”

“Leave your weapon and approach.”

I set the blade atop a flat stone and held my hands in the air. I walked to a point about 8 metres from the edge of the clearing. She ordered me to stop. “Disrobe and spin around.” I did as requested. When she satisfied herself that I was not armed, not a threat, she allowed me to re-dress and bade me proceed. “Follow close,” she instructed and turned into the wood. We ran at a comfortable pace for less than half an hour when she slowed to a walk, and we entered the settlement of Ancho.

The town was not grand. The buildings were of wood and adobe. We arrived at a large structure built on the verge of the dirt track that served as the main thoroughfare.

We entered and, it was clear that the people assembled in the building were in charge. They served me tea and biscuits before asking my business.

“There is a sickness in the lowlands,” I said, “Almost no one remains alive in the valley. The crops and the livestock there are beginning to suffer.

“In the high deserts of Roselea, the sickness is only beginning to arrive. They’re calling it a plague, and it’s already taken two of the elders in my village. My parents tell me not to worry. They say it’ll pass. That we’ll be all right, nevertheless it is prudent to advise yourselves.”

One of the council members of Ancho, a tall, pale complected woman with long dark hair, turned away to cough.


writing

Zozo Writers- Valentine’s Day Flash 2022

Written in 20 minutes, with the Carrizozo Writers
 and never even got around to the prompt?



James Thomas never had liked Mrs Ramsdale. Not since he had had her for freshman English in high school. Imagine his dismay, all these years later when he found out that she had bought the house next door to him and Linda.

The worst part of the situation though was that she had recognized him, right away, and she wanted to be friends. She would knock on the front door and invite them for barbecues. Of course, he would have to rung the barbecues, because she was too old and decrepit to run herself. The first time they went over she had put the burgers on at three o’clock and by the time James and Linda arrived there had been nothing left of them. Linda had gone home and brought back left-over tuna casserole and potato salad so they all had something to eat. From that time onward, whenever Mrs Ramsdale would invite them for dinner, James would always claim a previous engagement and duck out of it .If  Linda answered the door, however, she would usually counter offer, and invite the elderly teacher to their home instead. Mrs Ramsdale always accepted.

It was during the course of one such evening that they were seated around the Thomas’ table when old Mrs Ramsdale mentioned the Lost Dutchman Mine. “I know where it is now.” She said.

James laughed, “That is nothing more than an old story, Mrs Ramsdale,” he said. “There is no Lost Dutchman Mine, at least not in the hills around these parts.”

Linda cocked her head, paying attention.

Mrs Ramsdale only grinned, “Of course there is, James. I could take you there if I wasn’t so old. Don’t you remember when you were in my class? I talked about treasure hunting. I’ve been studying this forever.”

“Well, if you know where it is, but can’t get there, what good is that?” James snickered.

“I can tell you how to get there and we can split the treasure when you retrieve it.”

Immediately, James began working the angles. If she wasn’t full of shit, he could retrieve the gold and never let on. She would be dead soon enough anyway. The entire treasure could be his…


The prompts:

  1. I waved
  2. trees dripping rain

OLWG · writing

OLWG# 247- El Ligue de Una Noche

Written for OLWG# 247



On days like today, I think of Zyanya
A young girl I once knew in Chiapas.
Dark hair, dark eyes.

We fell in love
that afternoon in the plaza de la ciudad.
On the steps of a
whitewashed Catedral.

We spent the night at an old hotel
in Ocosingo. Made a lot of noise.
In the morning she kissed me,
pulled her dress back on, over her head, smoothed the soft cotton.
Then turned her face to the sun,
and wandered away
disappearing into the east.


This week’s prompts were:

  1. loquat
  2. turn your face to the sun
  3. a light behind the stone

writing

Zozo Writers- 07.02.22

A Haibun with American Sentence written in 20 minutes, with the Carrizozo Writers



The topless dancer looked at the big guy, at the small table near the edge of the stage. He leered up at her. His black irises were mere crescents beneath his heavy-hooded eyes.

Frightening to look at, he had those kind of eyes… soulless, and without emotion. He had a long scar that ran straight from his hairline and dissected his brow. Then it picked up again, wider now across his cheek, before tearing through his upper lip where it stopped abruptly, leaving him with a permanent grimace.

She shuddered when he pulled a roll of bills from his jacket pocket. She watched him peel a twenty and hold it up to show her. She didn’t want to go over there. She didn’t want his hands on her leg, on her costume. That was the job though. She could take the money he offered and think him a pig at the same time. It was called a tease, and she was more than he could handle, anyway.

She was a multi-tasker, she worked hard, she was a mom, a dancer.


I used the prompts:

  1. heavy-hooded eyes
  2. more than he can handle
  3. at the same time

OLWG · writing

OLWG# 246- Song

Written for OLWG# 246



Let your hair down
Let your inhibitions flee
Dance, Dance, Dance

Write, Write, Write
Pick up your pen
Pick up your pencil,
Start writing again

Change the words to this song
Nothing is written in stone
Figure out your interpretation
Sing, Sing, Sing
Make it your own


This week’s prompts were:

  1. start writing again
  2. change the words
  3. persnickety

OLWG · writing

OLWG# 245- Haibun 03.02.22

Written for OLWG# 245



I found myself in a cold sweat standing outside Bobby’s place. The wind was blowin’ in hard, from the gulf. I pounded on his door until that chick, Remy, answered, and then I pushed my way inside.
“What the hell?” The chick asks, fumblin’ for a smoke.
“Where’s Bobby?”
“He’s gone to Tupelo. His Momma’s sick.”
“I need some Percs. You got some?”
“No, we only got dors and fours.”

Codeine wraps her warm
arms around him and, he is
lost in her embrace


This week’s prompts were:

  1. a young man sleeps with his dreams
  2. fumbling for a cigarette
  3. more money than sense