The Silver Surfer…it’s Six Sentence Thursday

It’s Thursday so why not write a 6 Sentence story. Well, maybe not a story. Maybe a 6 sentence fragment. Yeah, that’s it. Fragment. It’s Zoe’s thing, ya know and a darned good thing too. She offers the challenge every week to any and all to throw some letters, a few words, up on the screen, today’s version of pen and paper. 6 sentences. No more, no less.  So here it goes….

The silver haired surfer gazed hungrily at the roiling waves tempting, teasing, taunting him.
Propped sloppily in an ancient chair, like an oft used stage prop soon destined to be cataloged and archived amidst other relics in a warehouse not of his choosing, he let slip a tear. There were no blinds or curtains on the window, all the more to torment eyes long used to the stinging of salt and sea spray the same salt and sea spray that glazed the panes of clear glass just beyond his reach. The energy was still there, coursing through a frame twisted, like an aged juniper tree welded to a coastline ravaged by decades of storms, every element nature can inflict. This day, he would have given his one remaining leg for the opportunity to walk out of the 2 story faded stucco building. And then he would run, run across sand swept hot asphalt, a lover to his beloved, thankful for burning sand beneath his soles, small price to pay for the chance to embrace the ocean one last time.


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“Standing With My Toes Hanging over the Edge”…It’s a Six.

Welcome to GirlieOnTheEdge and a vaction edition of the Six Sentence Story. Our Hostess Zoe, aka Ivywalker puts on a bloghop each and every week and invites any and all to share a story, poem, limerick, anecdote (catch my drift?) that contains no more and no less than 6 sentences. I have found it to be an enjoyable challenge! This week’s cue word is Craft.

The thin girl, wavy, flowing hair resistent to being contained under the starched bonnet, was barely out of her teens but in this time period she was considered a young woman, an adult subject to the laws of the small minded community to which she was born.

She’d been brought before the council to answer for what she was accused – crimes against humanity and Christianity and all things holy and good, witchcraft – and while older women were the majority accused, she stood as an example that no female was exempt from accusation.

A life had been saved, a young life she saw no reason to be sacrificed to the impenetrable ignorance of religious fervor that permeated the day. She had been taught how to cultivate and mix herbs into healing potions and linaments, medicine surely as effective as anything prescribed by the so called “doctors” of the day by Agwi, an island slave who’d been brought against his will to this fledgling colony.

Bridget couldn’t remember the first time she met Agwi, it felt as if she had always known him, and just as certain was the feeling, the knowing, that there was something extraordinary about the dark skinned slave.

She was tutor to the young boy whose parents, Agwi served, and so it was that a friendship almost magically was able to grow and flourish right under the noses of those who would surely have disapproved, association with a slave was tantamount to the worst crime save for witchcraft.

Under Agwi’s careful, albeit clandestine tuteledge, Bridget learned the craft of medicinal herbs, homeopathic remedies and ways in which to soothe ailments so prevalent to the times but tragically there was no cure for fear and ignorance as she now stood before the tribunal accused of consorting with the devil himself instead of being praised for saving the life of her young student.

It’s Not My Fault for being Late to The SSS!

How many times do I have to hear “Denise, you need to set a time limit for writing a post“.  And each time I hear that admonition (yes, it’s an admonition lol), I agree. With gusto! It makes sense. Especially when it comes to writing a 6 Sentence Story. Zoe’s bloghop does not require any more than 6 sentences. On the surface, the SSS is a seemingly, low pressure, just have some fun with it, bloghop. Except if you’re a clark who has all but stopped creative writing, writing of any sort really. Na-ah. No pressure! lol

I found a way this evening, don’t ask me how because I’m clueless, to sidestep the pressure. I engaged the world earlier and you might say that by doing so found my way to the words below. And a special hats off to a particular 10 year old who’s creative energy always makes me smile:D

Mrs. Garcia, her 5th grade students nicknamed her “Mrs. Garcia Lorca” after the famous poet and playwright, was very excited about going to work today.

She’d finally been able to get her first decent’s night sleep in over a month, as it had been that long since she first began her project, her quest, her attempt to fulfill a long neglected dream.

Elise Carolina Garcia, 5th grade English teacher, was not only a talented poet and writer, she also excelled in the fine arts and her dream, since first discovering the world of paint, pencil, charcoal and canvas was to create a work of art that would one day hang in the National Museum of Women in the Arts.

“Good morning class, how is everyone doing today? I hope you have all taken a good look at the painting I brought in this week as today it will be shipped off to the museum to be included in this month’s exhibition.”

“Um…Mrs. Garcia…..I…I’m really sorry…it was an accident, honest, I was just fooling around…it wasn’t my fault!”


Favorite Movies, 6 Sentence Stories and a Fresh Start

Wh-h-at? At your age? Fresh start? Gaw! That’s absurd, right? In real time terms, maybe. But I’m doing virtual time at the moment and well, that’s where any and all lines may blur and blend to reappear in new configurations.  Anything is possible in the virtual world, right? Am I right?!

It’s Thursday. I’m sitting with the lapbaby typing letters and such, fairly confident they make sense. I’m totally not sure what’s coming next though. Every week for months, Clark over at the Wakefield Doctrine will ask “so. you writing a 6 this week?” And every week I give a variation on the same answer and don’t. Write a 6 Sentence Story. IvyWalker aka Zoe at the infamous portal of possibilities, Uncharted, provides a lovely opportunity for all of us to challenge and engage ourselves, to entertain each other with 6 sentences (yeah. what I said. 6. best part? the sentences can be as long or short as you want to make them!) that contain the cue word for the week. This week’s cue word? Suspect.

I suspect you’re right about what you thought you heard Mrs. Fontana, but there’s no way to be certain exactly what your husband uttered with his dying breath, it was barely a whisper of words and those swept swiftly and silently aloft by the Reaper’s attendance to a strict schedule.

But Herbert, I know what I heard,  I lived with the man for 35 years, listened to him laugh, heard him cry, cajole, yell…whisper….So what that it’s been 25 years since, you know…

Since you passed Mrs. Fontana?

I simply won’t believe it Herbert. He promised we would always be together.

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Yes! A Six Sentence Story at the Edge!

Welcome to GirlieOnTheEdge. Today is Thursday and right on schedule, right on time, is Ivywalker, Hop Hostess of the bloghop we’ve all come to know and love, Six Sentence Stories. (see? right there. I’m practicing the long sentences, over use of punctuation in order to extend the sentence while at the same time remaining true to the context and the spirit of the hop. Whew! I don’t know….whady’a think? Am I ready??

They were a family, this motley crew of misfits.

Oh, not by blood, not in the traditional sense but in another, not lesser sense.

4 in all, 2 looked alike, perhaps “twins”, the other 2 not even close and yet, differing appearances and backgrounds aside, they stuck together, you know – birds of a feather?

They were inseparable, traveling together always, never wandering far from each other, eating, sleeping, playing together…swimming together.

Until one day there were 3 and, not showing any overt signs of distress, they carried on until the next one, the remaining “twin”, disappeared as well.

It was sad and strange and so not right to watch the little family whittled down to 2 and sadder still when the day arrived when there was only one duck remaining who, finding himself without family or friend, wandered off never to be seen again.





Keep Your Eye on The Edge – another 6 Sentence Story!

Welcome to GirlieOnTheEdge. I don’t know what you call it after you’ve pulled a “hat trick” but I’m back for a 4th consecutive week with a Six Sentence Story.

You know, the blog hop that happens every Thursday, courtesy of one ivywalker of uncharted fame. Hey! What the hell happened? Look at my dashboard! (no, I know you can’t but that’s what I want to yell)

When I last left the dashboard this morning, all looked as it always has. When I returned this evening? Presto! Chango! My dashboard has been altered! No longer are there words in the far left column saying “Dashboard” or “Comments” or “Pages”. Now. Now, there are pictures. Little icons. Instead of words. Seems words and writing are giving way to icons and formulas.

Which is something I don’t have for these bloghops. Wish that I did. Let’s see what can be done with this week’s clue “tear”.


She could feel the rending of the now stretched to capacity, diaphanous fabric that carefully covered the armour. Armour that served as protection and haven from all that was out there

She stood silently, stoically still as disbelief deftly and without mercy paralyzed her.

There on the hardwood floor, in the middle of the room she called home, the room with comfy oversized chairs, her favorite period piece couch snagged at a ticket only estate sale, lay her manuscript scattered like spent confetti on a ballroom floor at midnight on New Year’s Eve.

Turning away and with an abormal amount of self-control, she walked into the kitchen, returning moments later, a tear slowly descending each cheek, and bent down with dust pan and brush.


Robert Frost…If You Only Knew

Welcome to GirlieOnTheEdge. Thank you Josie and ivy for creating/hosting such a challenging and enjoyable blog hop! This is my second consecutive Thursday participating in Six Sentence Stories. I’m going to shoot for a trifecta but until then….

I woke, content. Walking a dream landscape that was at once endlessly familiar, comfortable, I wandered as if time was not at issue in spite of a nagging feeling that it was. Not quite able to put my finger on it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that all was not as it should be.

“But Dr. Gordon – you said there was a chance the coma wouldn’t be permanent, that there was a chance she’d come out of it!”

“Yes, Mrs. Fontaine, I did say that… 12 years ago. I’m so very sorry, but I really think it’s time”.