Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

Welcome to GirlieOnTheEdge and Sunday’s prompt word reveal for Six Sentence Stories!
There is another quote from Ms. Dillard I’m fond of that strikes a resounding chord. It’s a bit long to cite in this post however, it has been truncated by various sources to
How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” It immediately brought to mind Pink Floyd’s “Time“, and Dali’s iconic piece “The Persistence of Memory“. Writing, the act of writing, is suspension of time. It is a vehicle of transport across the dimensions of our imagination. The time to write is now. Remove your watch, do not look at the clock. Between now and Thursday, write exactly 6 sentences, write a Six Sentence Story.
What else have you to do between now and Thursday?

Rules of the hop:
Write 6 Sentences. No more. No less.
Use the current week’s prompt word.
Return here, link your post Wednesday night through Saturday late…
Spread the word and put in a good one to your fellow writers 😀


Sometimes part of a book simply gets up and walks away. The writer cannot force it back into place. It wanders off to die.” – Annie Dillard

Flash Drive. It’s a 6.

Welcome to GirlieOnTheEdge. As has been the pattern lo these last 2 weeks (call me last minute mama), the “idea for my 6” burst through the door of my cranium somewhere around 7:30 am this morning while driving to work. Wha-hut?! I haven’t written an acrostic since my early school days so not sure if I’m doing this right, lol. As an homage to National Poetry Month, let’s hope my piece qualifies as an acrostic, free verse poem. What say you, Lisa?! You be up on the poetry big time 🙂

May it never stray so far the stars appear as strangers..

Energize and elevate in times of solitude..

Motivate with reminders of strength and immediacy of the day..

Offer blankets of comfort when none can be found elsewhere..

Reinforce only the positive, refusing to indulge the negative..

Yield to infinite possibility, resisting scavengers of time..

Image result for history and memory


Snow Blind. It’s a 6.

grey flecked white, silhouette on heart stain red, outside curtained window, swirling snow

storm un-predicted, boughs reluctantly bend, unsuspecting nature’s silence comfort in the air

melting like Salvador into arms of over-sized chair, softness turns to caution turns to tears

scarred life worn, the trunk in a corner, room grown too small, like baby bird outgrowing the nest, 

locked by years missing, fear floats free-falling

key in hand, release

Image result for trunk in attic