HAHA! This is a fun read. Of course it makes no sense, but that's to be expected. I actually have managed to catapult out of my thongs/flip flops, so it is doable. I just re-read the madlib... two guys catapulted out of the same pair of flip flops? Okay...hmmmm... I stick by my word choice. Days in July often are volcanic! Oh, wait, is Jules female? I've played this word game with my grandgiggles and it's good for a laugh.
What an imagination you have! Yes, I too often notice shapes, familiar shapes, in clouds. I like cloud-gazing as a prelude to your tale. It contains action and romance, two 'things' that appeal to many readers. May I suggest, if you consider a re-write or an edit, to expand upon certain areas of this story. Perhaps try a bit more show and less tell. What actions make you believe someone is feeling blissful? Is it their smile? Do they appear to be daydreaming? Again, what is gracefully? Throughout your story there are plenty of action verbs. They propel the arc of the story. "We waited for what seemed like an eternity." What did they do? Did they wring their hands? Did they pace and fret? These are suggestions and not meant to be criticisms. I envision the illustrations that could accompany your tale. They'd be magnificent. Have you considered entering Writing 4 Kids Contest here at WDC?
Oh, how that particular song has another meaning. In a few words you've described a contentious relationship between a mother and daughter. Everything is misconstrued. Innocent invitations become commands and attempts to control. This mother knows when to retreat. Great writing!
This is a thoughful remembrance of a talented singer taken too soon. Despite her terminal diagnosis Nightbirde exuded positivity. If she were still alive, she'd put your words to music. This poem flows.
Haha! I especially laughed at your final stanza. I'm with you, why can't by-gones be by-gones? Live and let live, or as Elsa sang, 'Let It Go.' I like your breezy style. Your rhyming is effortless. I alas cannot ignore a certain groundhog. He chooses to be my campsite neighbour and at one time he burrowed under my camper.
First of all, Hi and welcome to WDC. Congrats on posting your first review request on the Community Newsfeed. You write of a deep pain and loss. Every moment you endure is a step forward. This is my personal thought, but could you write the actual word 'you'? You've crafted a sensitive poem and text-speak doesn't do it justice. I look forward to more of your writing.
Ah, pets do become beloved family members. I too had a cat that left his mark on my heart, Itty Bitty, a grey tabby. Oh, he had a huge personality! You've immortalized Tigger with much love. I laughed at the section where you compared Tigger to a Nascar driver.
Your father decided to live by the old adage turn the other cheek. I agree that requires courage and conviction. He chose not to be angry, or take offence. Kindness is often over-rated and unappreciated. He left you a great memory.
Ah, it is heartbreaking to witness children like this. He seems alone and forgotten, but is he? He's free to come and go. He does leave and then return. He must live somewhere and be supported. He is a mysterious figure to be sure. What is his story?
I loved this story! If only all parents and their children understood and accepted each other like this. For parents there is prodding/pushing/encouraging and loving/pride/bonding. Yes, academic achievement is not always about effort and studying. You either understand, or you do not. Tushar is one lucky son.
Maggie has quite the imagination. Her footwear involves her in many adventures. I like the image of Maggie roaring past her uncle on roller skates. This poem is an illustrator's dream. The artwork would be magical. Thanks for the vivid word pictures!
I love the idea of a dog sashaying in a fancy and comfortable set of shoes. I've seen canines frantically attempting to shake off their footwear and they mince about. Lucy and her daily walks needed those protective shoes. The possible illustrations could be so cute. Kudos to your rhymes. Imagine dogs sharing testimonials for shoes. Thanks for this enjoyable read!
This is fantastic! You reached back to not only give advice, but you gifted yourself with validation, encouragement. We all need to hear, or read more of that. Who doesn't question themselves and entertain the doubts? Writing is all about taking a leap and never giving up. By the way, my Mom's name is Carolyn. Thanks for this great read!
Ah, this curmudgeon, this crotchety old man is really a romantic at heart. He blusters, but he has no bite. He is devoted to Marge, so how wretched could he possibly be? Yes, he is likeable. How bad could he be to tolerate all those felines? He has failed to fool two women. I enjoyed the exchange between Marge and the old man re the cats. Neither took offence. Thanks for the read!
Nice twists! Definitely a different take on receiving a memento and an inheritance. This is manipulation and control from beyond the grave. You've described sibling rivalry magnified to a deadly level. Is murder justified if it is a request, a behest? This creates a new meaning for the word 'executor'. Thanks for this chilling read.
I enjoyed this. Very creative reply to the prompt. Who knew Santa of all people could be depressed and bored. Ah, his wife is a genius and a gem. So, the mystery is explained, a cat designated the deadline for Writer's Cramp. I agree. Why mess with a winning formula? I like Writer's Cramp as it is. The daily prompts are inspirational.
This is delightful! You describe Henry and the emotions vividly. An unexpected invitation to meet and mingle with the faces that accompany the names could be life-altering indeed. I must admit I've never thought about appearances, or wardrobe with colour. Sigh, you are so correct. Cell phones cannot be slammed abruptly to end a conversation with appropriate drama. Thanks for the read.
Ah, families and their complexities. It's not always black and white, is it? Some siblings hold onto a slight, a grudge, as if they were a dog with a cherished bone. It's as if they need the anger and the hurt to survive. They justify their feelings whether they are misplaced, or not. I am constantly being reminded that people raised in the same family are not at all similar when it comes to their memories. They have different recollections and viewpoints. Yes, they are entitled to this, but where do the intense emotions, the spiteful, bitter ones originate from? That last hug you received that sad day was a warm one, but it still had to be a hidden one. That's a shame.
Hello. I like the premise behind this story. Everyone struggles to find a way to fit in, but also to be special, unique. Children especially like to consider what-ifs. A flying cow would be quite the spectacle. Thanks for this charming tale. May I suggest you edit with capitalization in mind. A few sentences do not begin with a capital letter, but that is often a typo. In one sentence you typed 'fiend' which is clearly a far cry from a 'friend.'
I chose this piece of your writing because I lived with terrible physical pain for years waiting for a knee replacement. That kind of pain is exhausting and all-consuming. Thankfully, my children were adults and long gone from home. I can't imagine having a child, or being a child in the situation you describe. It would be devastating. As you portray, it is a day by day existence.
Short and sweet as limericks tend to be. You managed to discover a rhyme for oregano, impressive. You've told the tragic tale of true love. Two birds separated by a holiday tradition. Thanks for the laugh! From this day forth I shall remember your turkey.
I'm a mother and well, I once had a mother. Sometimes, we say and do ridiculous things. We carry the burden of many concerns and they often must be blurted to purge the weight. I laughed at the punchline. Never mind the Mom has just sprung the idea of being a werewolf on her child, but she also foists a scarf upon him. Nice recovery Mom. Explain the solitary, flimsy scarf will be useful when he converts back to his human, naked form. Great story delivered with the word restriction!
Hi! I chose this flash fiction because I noticed the name, Sandy, my name. Long story short, my parents christened me with the same name as my maternal grandparents' dog. Anywho... I like how you describe the sudden devastation, but afterwards the river is once again a beautiful sight. You create a happy ending with the return of Sandy, hooray. With the word restriction you've painted a vivid picture.
My ancestors served in the military, but I have no personal experience of any of my contemporaries serving. I can only imagine it is a constant worry to family and friends. What military persons do is beyond exemplary. They sacrifice. There's no doubt of that. May I make one suggestion? Perhaps add an 's' to 'limb.'
I know what it's like to mourn your mother. Yes, a Mom is not perfect, but she is our whole world. We miss her and that never abates. Memory is connected to all of our senses and smell is a strong one. Why do most of use forget the sound of a voice? I laughed at the fond, but truthful memory of your mother not being able to carry a tune even if it was sealed in Tupperware. Vivid detail there. Hugs!
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