The Day-Old Biscuit Trilogy

Midtown Writers Prompts: day-old biscuits, the dog barked, dinner with Delores

I

Dinner with Delores was always a challenge. A perfectionist, she had to have the right sauces, vegetables sliced just so, and meats hand-picked at the local butcher’s. They rolled their eyes after she left their counter, but she always got the top quality she demanded. Continue reading

Advertisements

Ophelia Persisted

“Pull off it. Like a sweater!”

“I’m sorry. What?”

“Like a sweater. Pull! Off! It!”

“Are you having a stroke or something?”

She glared at him, vibrating with rage, and pushed the sleeves of her washed-out taupe cardigan up over her elbows and planted her feet.

He sighed, slid his glasses up his nose. “I have no frikkin’ clue,” he grunted.

It was then that he noticed the linoleum and cinder-black dayroom was empty. Continue reading

Countdown

Boxes lay along the curved perimeter of the silvery dock. A slender figure darted around them, stacking smaller boxes on medium, turning some toward the shoreline.  The healer and her intern had placed three large boxes on the further, forested side, long before the observers had arrived. The dock rocked, slapping the water; the beasts were restless.

Twelve boxes total, counting the one in her belly pocket.

The crowd quieted as dawn softened, red to apricot.

She raised her arms. “Z!” The intern unlatched the largest box and stepped back as a silky black panther padded toward the trees.

He turned his head once, flashed his canines in farewell and disappeared into the shadows.  Continue reading

Summer’s End

School is out for the summer, but not for much longer.

The days grow short, the nights shine sweet crystal, cool under fulsome moons. Bare armed with glass raised high, we toast midnight relief from saturated days, leaning back into night’s caress. Continue reading