Random Scribbles · writing

What Is That Smell?

The elevator was full when the musky young chick squeezed in at six.

No one stared when she shifted all her weight left,

in a classic ‘one cheek sneak’ maneuver.

Expressions stoic, no one heard.

As one, we wrinkled our noses.

I got off at seven.

Another lift will be along soon.



The naked, red skinned, guard spun his trident and twitched his pointed tail. He leered at the batch of uncomfortable newcomers.

“Look around yourselves; see where you are? There’s fire and brimstone everywhere. Why do you think it’s hot?”


Random Scribbles · writing



Hi, is Michelle there? It’s me; I gotta speak with her.

“I’m sorry, that’s not possible.”

Please go get her, tell her it’s me.



I need to hear her laugh.



“I’m sorry, but there’s No Telephone to Heaven.”

What? Why not? There used to be!

“It was deemed way too dangerous.”


Random Scribbles · writing

Slowly Plummeting

The older gentleman noticed Cordelia, standing near the door and raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

“Would you hand me a glass please?”  She asked politely.

“Join us.” he invited.

She shook her head and pointed upward, drawing his attention the slowly plummeting old vine that was about to hit.

“Oh my,” He intoned.

Tree Chandelier In Kathryn Hall Vineyard (Image Credit unknown)