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This is a personal Challenge to write 500 words a day. Join me on my Journey. |
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The Challenge: Write 500 words every day for a year.
Can I do it? Join me and find out! |
  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Yesterday, I asked if anyone noticed anything different about camp. We heard about lights, saucers, flashlights in the lake, beards, crazy drunk teens, even large furry possibly sasquatch and someone keeps drinking my coffee before I do. What no one noticed is the big hole that is in the tree right next to our tents. Where did that come from? Clearly, there is something hanging from the hole but what is it? "Who keeps drinking all the coffee?" Lyn's a sly fox   growled. I poked my head over the edge of my bunk and held up my hands in a sign of peace. "Not me, I don't drink the stuff unless I'm at a work convention and then only with eighteen packets of sugar and half a cup of cream." While Lyn's a sly fox interrogated the other girls, a voice cut through the early morning air outside. "Um, guys? What's that?" Finn O'Flaherty  called. Her voice drifted in from outside the tent and a glance showed her bunk empty. Looking back and forth, we crept out of the tent. I made sure to keep close to ANN Counselor, Lesbian & Happy . Finn O'Flaherty 's voice had a touch of fear underlining the confusion that I don't like. Outside, we see what she found. In the large oak tree next to our tent, there's a raw-looking hole carved into the wood. That by itself would be worrisome, but the thing dangling below the hole made my breath halt in my throat. It was a large tear drop shaped object, slimy looking, and hanging heavy from the tree wound. "Gross! That looks like a giant loogie." Charlie ~  said, his nose wrinkled with disgust. "Has anyone seen anything like that before?" I asked, hoping this is some sort of normal, if gross, thing. Also hopping it didn't involve bugs. ANN Counselor, Lesbian & Happy took a step closer, peering at the thing. "No, I can't say that I have." Fivesixer  appeared next to her. With stick in hand, he reached out to poke it. "I wouldn't..." but was too late. With a wet ripping sound, something fell from the sack. Plop! The creature thrashed on the ground in a tangle of slime and awkward limbs. We saw sleek black, but before we could make out more it was up and running deeper into the forest. Rubbing her eyes, Lyn's a sly fox looked at the torn and empty sack. "I need my coffee," she muttered before turning her back on the morbid scene.  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Prompt: Your younger self is about to be offered your first job. What would you tell yourself knowing what you know now? The first thing I would say is "STOP!" Then, when I was sure I had my 16 year old self's attention, I would tell me "Don't work at McDonald's. Trust me, you won't like it! Try the Movie Theater. It is the perfect starter job. Working concessions isn't so hard, and you get the chance to watch movies. It's perfect really." I'm so annoyed with my past self for automatically going into fast food without checking out anywhere else first. Working with food is great for some people, but not for me. You know you don't like your job when you secretly hope you get robbed on the way into work and that the bad guy stabs you. Not a lot! Just a little stab. You know, enough to get you into the hospital, but not be anywhere close to dying. The worse thing about working in fast food is this: Picture yourself in a space about the size of an average hallway in a house. Now, imagine that your supervisor is also in this space watching everything you do. I'm still haunted by the words "If you have time to lean, you have time to clean." I started out on the fry station. Once, while pulling up a basket in this uber small space, someone bumped into me, sending the basket into my arm. In an instant, I had a lovely cross hatch burn that blistered about two seconds later. Later that day, they popped when they snagged on the edge of a Happy Meal bag. Oh happy days. I'm so glad that the only time I have to deal with food now is when I go to the snack machine. (Not that I do that anymore since I work from home). To all the teens out there, when looking for your first job, go to the Theater! Word Count: 648 |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Prompt: You hear a noise coming from your book shelf. Your books are talking to each other. Which books are they? What are they saying? A gentle sound whispers through the house. For a long time, I don't notice it as I drift in the shining see between waking and sleep. But, underneath the sluggish thoughts and fragments of dreams, I hear it. A rustling, secret sound. Maybe it's the leaves, blowing in the wind? Or a gentle rain, pattering its soft messages out on my windows? No. The sound is different from both of those. It's a dryer sound. One that reminds me...reminds me of the hush of a library. The soft swish of pages rubbing softly against each other. Then, under the low hiss of paper, I hear something else. Whispers. Whispers in that dry, hushed voice of pages kissing before they part. "It's been a while." They whisper. "Come, join our world again. No, visit us! You know you miss us. You want to join the struggle again and see good triumph over evil, don't you?" The voices take on new tones. The deeper voice of Daemon Sadi from the Dark Jewels Trilogy, tempting me to lose myself in their world yet again. I sigh, longing to do just that, but time...alas time is not on my side. Still, I get up. Stretching, I slip out into the living room. My fingers brush lovingly over spines before I come to Daughter of the Blood. Yes, there's so much I need to do, but for the next few hours, I have an adventure to enjoy. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** There were strange sounds and weird lights by the lake that we haven't seen before last night. Tell us what you think happened? Did you notice anything unusual in camp this morning? Here's your chance to let your imagination run wild. Yay, more tall tales! I wake up to something that is more felt then heard. It is a low thudding, as if the Earth had a great heart beating just beneath us. Nervous about the unusual noise, I slip out of my top bunk and lightly nudge ANN Counselor, Lesbian & Happy . "Do you hear that?" With a yawn, she sits up and listens intently. A small frown touches her lips. "Yes. I've never heard anything like that in the woods before. Come on, lets check it out." My eyes widen at the suggestion. Maybe it would be better to stay here. After all, the girls who go out to check out the weird sound in the forest always get eaten in the movies. I almost suggested that we go wake up the boys, but then remembered that Ann was better at survival than they were. "Okay." I whisper back. In a couple minutes, we're both dressed and Ann's gathered up her rifle. Our flashlights form tunnels of light and safety in the oppressive darkness. We follow the strange thumping, and the closer we get, the clearer the sound becomes. Suddenly, through the trees, we see flashes of neon light. They swirl, swish and bob in odd formations. I gape at the scene, trying to wrap my mind around what I'm seeing. It takes a few minutes to finally process all the strange green, pink, and yellow lights. They're glow sticks, bracelets, and recklessness. I even see glow in the dark face paint on some of the teens dancing and hooting like mad things. Music, mostly base thudding stuff flows like a river from the boom boxes scattered around the impromptu rave. The ground is littered with red plastic cups, and the stink of beer hovers over everything. Wrinkling my nose, I tug lightly on Ann's sleeve. "Let's go back." She nods in agreement. We left the strange party as silently as we'd come. They continued their marry dance, not noticing our arrival or departure. Word Count: 569 |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Hi, its a 2 parts this time 1. Review this well known poem and tell Norb and I if you know who the author is. Trees I think that I shall never see, a poem as lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed against the earth's sweet flowing breast: A tree that looks at God all day And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree. 2. Find a tree that you love and tell us about it whether in a poem or a story. This poem is not on WDC or by one of our fellow authors so please write your review in your blog. No, it does not have to be a lengthy one but it does have to be more than I like it. According to the all-seeing Oracle aka Google, the poet who wrote Trees is Joyce Kilmer. Sorry, I don't read poetry enough to recognize poets off the top of my head, so I had to cheat. Alrighty then, here's my review: First Impression This poem is a tribute to one of nature's grand creations. The author explored how a tree is greater than poetry, then goes on to elaborate on the idea. Favorite Parts I love the unique descriptions used, especially this line: A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed against the earth's sweet flowing breast. What I like most about it is the imagery. I would never have thought of a tree as a child at breast, nor the earth as its mother even though we often thing of it as Mother Earth. That was a brilliant connection. I also enjoyed how she personified the tree. It isn't a thing, it's a she. The tree lifts her arms, has robins in her hair. Personification of nature isn't new, but it does work well in poetry. Suggestions My suggestion would be to fix the punctuation in lines 3 and 4. In all the other lines, she adds some sort of punctuation before the capitalized letter in words like: Who and But in the last two lines, but she doesn't do this in lines 3 and 4. Final Thoughts I have to agree with the underlying message of this work. No matter how hard we work and slave over the page, we'll never be able to capture the simple yet magnificent beautify of a tree. Now for a tree that I love. When we moved to Nebraska there was a tree in my parents' back yard that grew all twisted but strong. Come spring, it was covered in amazing, beautiful pink flowers. It was a Magnolia tree. There are a lot of them in Nebraska, and for the few weeks they bloom, it's amazing. I've put a couple pictures at the bottom of a Magnolia tree and the flowers. One of the things I loved most about that tree was its odd twisted limbs. There is one branch that dips in the middle, forming a perfect seat. That was a place I often went to think or be alone. Alright...alright...I admit, it was the place I went to mope and be anxiety about having moved here in the first place. That wasn't a happy time for me and I was furious at both my parents for making me leave everything I'd known. I didn't have any friends, and for the first time ever, I didn't want to talk to or spend time with my mom. The tree was my safe place. Tucked in her branches, I found comfort. The tree still stands in my parents' back yard, though I'm too big to climb it now. And I still love the spring when it's blanketed in the most beautiful of flowers. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Prompt: Pearls. Anything you want to write about pearls. Serious or funny. "Where's Frank?" The speck of dirt turned with a scowl, eyeing the sprig of coral. "Haven't you heard? Frank's decided he's better than the rest of us. He's too good to be mud." Stan, the coral, sighed at Mike's dramatics. "And what does that mean?" If nothing else, Mike's old-womanish gossip would pass the time. "Frank might as well change his name to Francine, after all, he's going to be plucked out of the shell and end up tucked between some human female's mammary glands." "Oh? I thought he wasn't interested in joining the Order of Sheen." "Yeah me too." Mike muttered. "We were chips off the same rock, he and I, and now...now he's just too good for mud." "Well, why don't you find a nice clam to crawl into? Maybe you to will be part of the same string." "What? No way! My place is here, on the ocean floor. Let him become some bimbo's prize." With that, Mike burrowed deeper into the mud and refused to say another word. Word Count: 690 |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Dang, it is still raining like crazy and everyone is board gamed out right now. At first, I was going to have a spelling bee but then I got thinking and that won't work. People will look up the spelling. So instead, I have looked the words up and you may too but you may not substitute the word with the synonym. Write us a short story using as many of these words as you can but still make sense. http://www.pompousasswords.com/www/index.htm I've included the link where I found these endearing new words for your short story. axiomatic courant moribund propitious calumny fecund jocose inchoate diaspora guignol antediluvian protean surfeit attenuate legerdemain percipience contretemps quiescent feckless febrile mange vapid assiduous elide antipodal Have fun, I can't wait to see what you come up with? "It's still raining," the bored voice rang out. I didn't bother responding to the axiomatic remark. Instead I sighed and nudged one of the board games. Too bad we didn't have any games that were au courant, Angry Birds maybe, or Candy Crush. Then we could at least try to beat each other's high scores. Instead we were stuck with moribund games that kids of the newest generation didn't even know, let alone know how to play. "Maybe we should try an admixture of games? We could try putting more than one together to create something new." I offered half-heartedly. The rain seemed to sap our strength, leaving us drowsy. The suggestion wasn't the greatest, but the response was propitious. "That was my idea!" Someone in the back shouted, their words a calumny against me. It was clear that being cooped up all together was making the atmosphere fecund for hurt feelings. Instead of giving in, and getting angry, I smiled and let them have their way. It wasn't worth fighting over. "Just kidding," they replied in a jocose tone. After a while we came up with a inchoate game that was as fun as it was confusing. Well I was able to get 8 of them, but time ran out and we're off to the movies. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Prompt: The first time I... The first time I flew, it was alone. I can still remember the fear. The way my heart fluttered in my chest like a caged bird, and how worried I was that the plane would crash. We'd moved to Nebraska, but my mom and I were going back to Nevada for a visit. I don't remember why, but mom had to leave a week before me, so I ended up having to fly alone. My Dad saw me off. I was maybe 13 or 14 at the time. I remember sitting in the seat and obsessively reading the little sheet about what to do if the plane crashes. The guy sitting next to me gave me a knowing look and told me that we would be alright. Thankfully he was right. I had one layover, and I remember stopping to get a big ice cream cone with the money my dad gave me. Though I no longer remember the flavor, I recall how happy I was that I could get two scoops and didn't have to ask or be told that it was too messy or that I wouldn't have time to eat it all before we had to catch the next flight. All in all, it was a fun experience, and I've always enjoyed flying. My son is the same way. He's flown every year to Vegas for the National Dart Tournament that his father and grandparents participate in. I've always loved how good of a flyer he is. Unlike most babies and small children, he doesn't cry or fuss. Usually he sleeps the whole time. Here's a little tip for all the parents out there. You know how your kid flies for free in your lap up to a certain age? You can ask if there are extra seats available on the flight, and if there are you can use your car seat even though you didn't pay for the extra seat. Also, just the fact that you can use a car seat is something a lot of people don't know. Let me tell you, that makes flying with small children a thousand times easier. Word Count: 555 Thank you, ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "I try to create sympathy for my characters, then turn the monsters loose." -Stephen King |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Prompt: The last time I ... This is going to be a flash fiction: The last time I heard her voice, she was telling me why she had to kill me. Not the best day of my life, let me tell you. Then again, she had good reason. That's the story she was passing off anyway. "So, you made it out of the fire after all." Her voice held no remorse for her rather inept attempt at murder. I couldn't help the bitter smile that curled my lips, feeling more like a snarl than anything happy. "Are you kidding? A toddler could have made it out." The scars that licked across my back and dribbled down both sides gave lie to the bluff, but I couldn't help the vindictive glee I felt when her eyes narrowed. "Why are you here? After New York, you should have vanished. Wasn't that the end game?" She flinched at the bitter edge in my voice. We were going to vanish together, but plans changed. Instead, she got away with the diamonds and I spent the next half year in the burn ward. My fingers itched to return the favor. Let her experience the same corner of hell her actions had condemned me to. "You know why I did it." "Yes. I know." My hand closed over her slender arm before she could pull away. The way she flinched back from my touch should have pleased me, but it didn't. Damn it all. "Why are you here?" I demanded. "I need your help." Dread tightened the skin at the base of my neck. The last time she'd asked for my help didn't work out so well for me, but I couldn't look away from her wide chocolate gaze. I'd always been a sucker for a woman in trouble. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The clouds are rolling in campers. It's gonna rain hard and get cooler. How are we gonna stay warm and entertain ourselves? Someone's gotta cover the firewood and make sure our supplies are safe, but until then, we've got some board games in the main tent...what's your favorite? Thunder rumbled in the distance, and I look at the broiling dark clouds gathering on the horizon. If we were in Nebraska, I'd start worrying that there might be a tornado, which would be rather horrible during the middle of a camping trip. Thankfully, we're in Maine, and I don't think they get tornadoes there. The other campers also notice the oncoming storm. Quickly, we gather to take care of chores before the rain begins. ANN Counselor, Lesbian & Happy and I offer to look after the food and make sure it's all sealed up and safe from the upcoming storm. I follow Ann's directions and together we get everything tucked up and put away. I also grab a big bag of chex mix for everyone to snack on while we wait out the storm. Once the outside chores are done, we gather in the main tent to play board games. I ask Charlie ~ to grab me a pack of gum and a bottle of Mt. Dew. Mmmmm Dew! When we realize that 💙 Carly  and Finn O'Flaherty are not around, I remember seeing them with their writing Journals that morning, but hadn't seen them sense. I wonder if we should send out a few people to go look for them, but I'm not sure if that's a great idea. Then we'd have more people wandering around in the forest during the storm. We decide to give them a little more time to show up and talks turn towards the joy of board games. My favorite isn't a board game per se, but Uno. I love that game. Pulling out a warn deck, I ask if anyone would like to pass the time with a game of Uno. Word Count: 579 |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Hi campers! Bring out the bugles! Toes down, chins up; it's time for Reveille! Sing us your favorite song this morning and tell us why you like it. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] When it comes to songs that make me drop everything to stop and sing along, I know Bohemian Rhapsody is high on my list. There's just something about this song that forces you to sing along at the top of your lungs. This is one of those songs that I seemed to have been born knowing all the words to. Even my husband, who almost never sings to songs or remembers lyrics, can sing Bohemian Rhapsody word for word. I think that might be true for most people. It's a fantastic song and singing it always feels good. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] My second favorite song when it comes to singing in the car, or shower, or whenever I might hear it (on the radio or in my head) is Pink Floyd Just Another Brick in the Wall. True story. When I was in middle school my friends and I created a brilliant game. It involved getting large balls of toilet paper, wetting them in the sink, and then throwing them at the ceiling of the girls bathroom. I'm sure you can imagine the spectacular mess this made for the janitorial staff to clean up. Though, I'll tell you this, wet toilet paper explodes in a most spectacular manor. Far better than wet paper towels, which don't explode at all. This was the first time I experienced the reality of the quote "A secret between three people can only be kept if two of them are dead." Not that I'm condoning the killing of classmates to hide the grand TP scandal of my girlhood...but, well in about a week one of my compatriots had been captured. Because I'm a noble soul, and she was crying, I threw myself on my sward and turned myself in. We were not executed, thankfully, or even suspended. What we did get was cleaning up the cafeteria duty after lunch every day for a month. Well, one day while cleaning, my friends and I all broke out into song. That's right, we began singing Not Another Brick In the Wall at the top of our lungs while in the middle of punishment. Perhaps not the brightest move we'd ever made, but it was a lot of fun. It's probably a good thing that I didn't live in a time of corporal punishment or I'm sure they would have broken out the cane to tan our bottoms for not showing the proper amount of shame over our actions. Oh well, I wasn't much of a trouble maker in school, but that was one of my shining moments. [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Here's the last song I'm going to share. This one is for both the song and the video. I love Bleach, and Bleach mixed with Monster by Skillet is amazing. These two fit together so well that you'd think one was made for the other. I'll admit, I have another reason for choosing this song. When it comes to singing it out loud, my son Shane knows it word for word. There's nothing more hilarious as a four year old shouting at the top of his lungs "I, I, I Feel like a MONSTER!" It's deeply amusing whenever the song comes on in the car. It's one of my favorites, and one of his too. It's great that he's already developing his own taste in music, and that he's singing along with the songs he likes best. There you go, Dana's favorite sing along songs. Word Count: 572 |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Prompt: I met him on the stairs??? Tell us all about it "Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there He wasn't there again today I wish, I wish he'd go away." - Hughes Mearns This little snippet of poem came to me when I read the prompt today. I've always been intrigued by it. What does it mean? When writing this post, I found the whole poem, and it doesn't shed much light on the strangeness. I suppose he could be a ghost, but that seems too simple to me. Sure, ghosts aren't exactly there, and that kind of fits the there/not there-ness of the man upon the stairs. Perhaps it is a reflection of the narrator. I think this might be more likely. The reflections of who he might have been perhaps? Unfulfilled expectations. Maybe he sees a life lost in the man upon the stairs, and when confronted with the path not taken, he can't stand it. He can't stand the thought of where his life could have been had he followed his dreams, and that's why he demands the apparitions go away. Then again, in the final stanza of the poem is this line: A little man who wasn't there We don't know if the man narrating the poem is little or big. *Grumbles* Well, it looks like my first guess was correct. After a little more digging I found this: "Inspired by reports of a ghost of a man roaming the stairs of a haunted house in Antigonish, Nova Scotia, Canada, the poem was originally part of a play called The Psyco-ed which Mearns had written for an English class at Harvard University about 1899." So ghosts it is. Sometimes a spade is just a spade. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Hey campers! It's time for another Saturday night campfire! Tell us a little about where you're from, and something that is commonly mistaken about your hometown. And if you don't think your town's big enough, tell us the advantage of your small town. Bonus: Share a favorite campfire dinner recipe that's quick and easy. We gather around in a comfortable circle. The fire crackles, casting dancing light around us, and extending our shadows behind us into giants that sway and murmur with a quiet life of their own. "When I was a young girl...lalala la la...Sorry, I couldn't help it. Anyway, when I was a kid we lived in Cold Springs Nevada. I suppose that if anyone knew about it they'd be mislead by the name of our little valley. Much of Nevada is scrub desert. There weren't any springs in Cold Springs, cold or otherwise. It's odd, but a lot of little towns around Nevada were named Springs. Cold Springs, Silver Springs, stuff like that. It was a very small town. Actually, it was a valley. So you could say I'm a valley girl. There were houses, and a 7-11, the grade school, and a park. And that was it. That...and the mountains. I loved the mountains. We were the last row of houses before the mountains started. As kids, we spent endless hours running wild out there. I'm shocked none of us died now that I think about it. The Nevada Mountains really aren't a great play place for young children. There were rattle snakes, scorpions, and black widows. Not to mention coyotes. Here's a great story. My brother had a Rottweiler puppy named October and for the longest time we had coyotes that came down to the fence line with their pups, teaching them to howl. Night after night, October would go out by the fence, and learn to howl too. I'll tell you now, Rottweiler's were never meant to howl. It sounded completely ridiculous and she continued howling her entire life. Alright, I figure we've already got plenty of dinner recipes, so how about some dessert? http://www.apronstringsblog.com/campfire-cooking-family-favorite-campfire-desser... Seriously, those orange-blueberry muffins look amazing. Soooo, so good. I might have to go camping sometime just to try this out. What you do is cut an orange in half, scoop out the orange part leaving the two halves of peal. Then you fill each half with blue berry muffin mix. Wrap in foil, then toss into the fire. After a while you pull them out, grab a spoon, and yum yum! Word Count: 540 Thank you, ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "I try to create sympathy for my characters, then turn the monsters loose." -Stephen King |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Prompt: There are strange sounds outside the tents but when shine to flashlights out there, nothing is visible. In the morning, we see these interesting footprints all around camp. It was Amy's turn to cook breakfast so she went to get the food supplies and discovered that everything was opened and half eaten. What are we going to do? What kind of footprints do you think these are? Looking over the small size of the prints, and the almost human like hands, I voice my opinion that our food thieves were bandits. Little black masks and all. Raccoons, with their clever fingers, curiosity, and endless gluttony for human food were the culprits. I'm glad the only thing that had come in during the night looking for a snack was the pudgy little masked bandits. Much better than bears, who might see us as big human burritos in our sleeping bags. When it comes to finding or preparing food, I know I'm pretty helpless. I can't even cook in a fully stocked kitchen, and I've never killed anything. Not even fish. With I smile I offer to take a car out to buy more food, or hope that one of the other campers might be better at roughing it than I am. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Prompt: Hi, you were hired by Yelp, to write a restaurant review about an amazing restaurant in your city. Give us some examples of things you liked and disliked in your review. Convince us this is the place to go. Every year, I wait with eager anticipation for both my birthday and our anniversary to indulge in a guilty pleasure. Closing my eyes, I can imagine the soft flicker of candle light, the heady scent of fresh baked bread that will be delivered before we order, and the mouth-watering dream of Filet Mignon. Should you find yourself in Lincoln, Nebraska, perhaps you can talk my husband into taking us all to Misty's for a night of food that will draw you back to our little city for my birthday too. Your tongue will tingle with delight at the hot Cajun spices covering the Blackened Prime Rib tips we'll have as an appetizer. They are amazing, almost worthy of a meal by themselves. The biting flavor will, if you're anything like me, have you reaching for your glass of wine to cool the heat. After we've polished off the appetizer, and fought playfully over the last bite, we will be served a savory bowl of French Onion soup. Each breath draws in the friendly aroma that will forever remind me of Misty's. It settles around the three of us like a warm blanket. That first rich bite flows over my tongue like a dream of perfection. The fresh baked croutons are like tiny soup soaked clouds of flavor that explode over my taste buds. Every bite just gets better from there, if you can believe it. My personal favorite has always been the Filet Mignon, which is perhaps one of the finest examples of flavor and tenderness I've ever experienced in a stake. The scent of the hickory-smoked bacon never fails to get me drooling even before the first exquisite bite. If you're looking for something a bit more substantial than 6 oz. of perfection, Misty's is known for its stunning cuts of Prime Rib. This tender feast will melt over your tongue like a sensual kiss. Drawing you in for each lush bite as you lose yourself in the rich flavor only Misty's can bring to such a succulent cut of meat. With steak additions such as mushrooms, melted blue cheese, crab and lobster gratin, and port demi-glace, you will find it difficult to choose just one. While we eat, the low clink of glasses and the sound of conversation will wash around us like the gentle murmur of the surf on a cloudless night. The round benches, candle lit tables and attentive staff will draw us into our own private paradise of culinary exploration. Now, we are drawn into dessert. A tray is brought forth, giving our eyes a new feast of bounty to ponder. Every week, a new tray of succulent offerings. Will you indulge with me, and share a slice of Caramel Fudge Pecan Torte? Word Count: 601 |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Prompt: Which fictional character have you fallen for? One of the characters I fell in love with a long time ago was Daemon Sadi from the Dark Jewels Trilogy by Anne Bishop. He was always an amazing character, and I loved how even though he was often dark, he wasn't tainted by all that was done to him or all that he'd had to do to survive. His brother was also pretty hot, but Lucivar Yaslana was a bit too rough for my taste. He was a warrior through and through who wears his heart on his sleeve. In fact, I fell in love with the whole world Anne created for her novels. Even though we are introduced to a world on the brink of destruction, there's still magic. Still power to be found. It was a story about how power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. It shows how evil can take over, rule and destroy good, but it also shows how good clings to life. One of the things I love most about it is that it shows how dreams come true. Dreams made flesh. How one person can be the heart and life of so many different people. These books show how a single person can unite a kingdom and change the world. It also shows how people who've been badly broken can learn to love again. These books are not sugar coated. They show the suffering of a world under the rule of evil, and they show heroes rising above that suffering. All in all, they're one of my favorite series. I've read them often enough that I had to buy a second set because I wore out the first. For me, they're old friends I have to go back and visit from time to time. Just writing this blog makes me want to go and take up the tale again. “Dancing was the only activity he enjoyed with a woman, and he regretted that court dancing was no longer in vogue. If you want to bed a woman, do it in the bedroom. If you want to seduce her, do it in the dance.” - Daemon ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Prompt: That was a lot to take in yesterday, how about we go into town and have some beers at the local tavern? Tell me about the conversations you over heard. While we head out, I throw a teasing scowl at Lyn's a sly fox for her teasing trick yesterday. I had to admit, it was a pretty good prank. We arrive at the bar in a happy chatting horde. I can't help but laugh at her joke about Charlie ~ . "Don't worry," I whisper, "I think you look very manly. That and I've always liked men with long hair." I give him a teasing wink to show I'm just being playful. I order a Fuzzy Navel and wander off to flit among the groups of talking campers. Drinking had never been my thing, but I don't mind having a bit now and then. I only drink enough to get a pleasant buzz while I listen to everyone else having a good time. I spend some time with Charlie ~ and Fivesixer as they talk music before moving on. I don't talk too much, but enjoy the company and of my fellow campers. We talk about the adventures of yesterday and speculate over the unknown excitements that await us tomorrow. After a time, I decide to tempter the alcohol with a bit of food and order half a dozen different baskets of fried (totally bad for us) snacks to share with everyone. Time passes quickly now that we're back in civilization, and before we know it, it's time to trek back out into the wilderness again. With a final drink to warm our bones, we return to our self appointed exile. Word Count: 552 |
| ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Prompt: We are going to one of Maine's oldest cemeteries. The headstones are amazingly in good shape considering the weather. We are packing a lunch and while we are there do some gravestone etchings. Everyone should look around and pick a different headstone so we can compare the age of the people buried here. However to your surprise, the headstone has your name! We want to hear your reaction and what you think is going on. If anywhere in Maine should spark fear, this would be it, but I find myself calm as we walk trek through the forest of tomb stones. I've always found grave yards to be more fascinating than frightening. When we first moved up to Nebraska, we stayed at my godparent's house. A few miles down the road was a cemetery, and I spent a lot of time there. We moved right before I'd turned 13, and I was furious with my dad for making me leave everything I knew and loved. I'm sure it didn't help that I was just entering the turbulent teen years, was the only girl in the family, and only had my dad there to try and keep charge of me. Mom was still in Nevada to sell the house. Through all the angst, I found an odd peace in the cemetery. Looking around, I feel the same peace flood me as we fan out to find comfortable places to sit and eat lunch. Once we finish, we drift further apart and armed with large sheets of paper and charcoal, I drift towards an ancient looking headstone. My fingers brush over the weather worn words, almost lost to time. I can't quite make out the name, so I tape up a sheet of paper to see if the etching will reveal more. Unmindful of the black dust staining my fingertips, I begin. Dana M I can't quite help the small tingle of fear when my name appears under the steady pressure of charcoal on paper. The dates had been too damaged to recover, but my name was clear enough. Then I chuckled. It's not a terribly uncommon name after all. Typing it into Facebook brings up hundreds of hits. Again I laugh, my momentary fear forgotten. Perhaps if the last name had been my maiden name, it would be different, but first and last, it's not unique. I glance around to see how everyone else is doing. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Prompt: Make a list of inspirations. People, places, colors, events, activities. Do these inspire you to write, go to work, help you through life or make your day a good one? I would like to hear about them. I think one of the biggest inspirations in my life is inconvenience. Whenever I'm in a situation where I'm away from my computer, where writing is impractical or down right impossible, that's when I get my best ideas. There are three situations where I'm sure to find inspiration. First, when I get into the shower and have just put a bunch of shampoo in my hair. Second, when I'm driving. Third, when I've finally gotten comfortable, my husband asleep beside me, and am about to doze off at night. I think that one is the worst because I don't want to move, or turn on the light, or wake up my husband. I've found a great app on my phone for when I'm out and about and want to take notes. It's called ColorNote and it was a free app if anyone wants to try it out. This little tool lets you take notes. It has a calendar that lets you make to-do lists, and best of all it has a talk feature. This is perfect for those aggravating moments when driving where I'm struck with inspiration and there's not a red light for miles. I also find myself inspired when reading or listening to books or short stories. A favorite author's ideas will spark off ideas of my own. I'll begin playing the what if game, and often come up with stories of my own whose seeds were found in the works of the authors I love most. Word Count: 579 |
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