RT S2

One Rung at a Time

Caroline steps onto the deck and immediately notices the patio umbrella is missing.  Not again, she thinks. Her husband Karl had tried everything to keep it from flying off the deck with the frequent windstorms that gathered speed across the lake and headed straight...

Bosoms Redux

This is in response to the first prompt. (Wish I had more time to write more this month.)   We have been together since birth.  You crept out like crocuses.  Blossomed into bright red tulips. Mounded like Fuji. Blazed the eyes of men. Were cupped by countless...

Anya Underground

It was Penitent Magdalene—tears in her eyes after washing the feet of Christ with her hair, breasts bared to God, both erotic and sorrowed— that Anya loved most, and now, crossing the square outside the Hermitage, wind grieving through the trees, she wonders how...

Sympathy…

I've been toying with this one for a decade at least. This month's prompt inspired me to give it another go.   A Bobwhite quail moves at a speed of 20 feet per second and can fly briefly at speeds of 30 to 40 miles per hour. A Perazzi-Brescia over-under 28-gauge...

Vocie of God (510 words)

I seen this girl last night, click-clacking down Avenue C. Low-cut top, neon pink. Pink hair too. Yeah. Our eyes did that quick little zap. Thought we mighta had something, but she just raised her head high, thick with attitude. Whatever. No skin off my back. Girl...

One Rung at a Time

Caroline steps onto the deck and immediately notices the patio umbrella is missing.  Not again, she thinks. Her husband Karl had tried everything to keep it from flying off the deck with the frequent windstorms that gathered speed across the lake and headed straight...

Bosoms Redux

This is in response to the first prompt. (Wish I had more time to write more this month.)   We have been together since birth.  You crept out like crocuses.  Blossomed into bright red tulips. Mounded like Fuji. Blazed the eyes of men. Were cupped by countless...

Anya Underground

It was Penitent Magdalene—tears in her eyes after washing the feet of Christ with her hair, breasts bared to God, both erotic and sorrowed— that Anya loved most, and now, crossing the square outside the Hermitage, wind grieving through the trees, she wonders how...

Sympathy…

I've been toying with this one for a decade at least. This month's prompt inspired me to give it another go.   A Bobwhite quail moves at a speed of 20 feet per second and can fly briefly at speeds of 30 to 40 miles per hour. A Perazzi-Brescia over-under 28-gauge...

Vocie of God (510 words)

I seen this girl last night, click-clacking down Avenue C. Low-cut top, neon pink. Pink hair too. Yeah. Our eyes did that quick little zap. Thought we mighta had something, but she just raised her head high, thick with attitude. Whatever. No skin off my back. Girl...

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