Thursday Inspiration — I Know

For Jim Adams’ Thursday Inspiration prompt this week, we can use the prompt word know, or going with the above picture, or by means of the song ‘All for Love,’ or by going with another song by Bryan Adams, or anything else that you think fits.

How about this? “I Know (You Don’t Love Me No More)” was an R&B song written and recorded by American singer Barbara George, released as her debut single in 1961. It became her signature song and her only major hit in United States, reaching number 1 on the Billboard R&B singles chart and number 3 in the Hot 100.

Throwback Thursday — Then and Now

Maggie, at From Cave Walls, and Lauren, at LSS Attitude of Gratitude, alternate hosting Throwback Thursday. The idea of the prompt is for them to give us a topic and for us to write a post in which we share our own memories or experiences about the given topic. This week, Lauren asked us ten questions about what it was like then and what it’s like now.

When I read her questions, I was having a hard time figuring out how to respond. My memories around most of her questions were so faded that I couldn’t figure out how to respond, and I was going to skip the prompt this week.

But one question caught my attention. Lauren asked, “Did you ever get lost as a child? How did you handle it?” And suddenly a very vivid memory popped into my head from when I was about seven years old and either in the first or second grade. So instead of answering all ten of Lauren’s questions, I thought I’d just share that memory in response to that one question.

I’d walked through this woods at least a dozen of time before. But suddenly everything looked unfamiliar, menacing, treacherous.

Still, I followed the path I was on. But was it the right one, the one that would lead me home? I couldn’t be sure. There were several forks in the trail and I worried that I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way.

The branches, some still with autumn’s dying leaves clinging to them, were reaching down toward me like the gray, bony arms of an army of skeletons. Grabbing, pulling.

It was dusk, and the rapidly approaching darkness, intensified by the canopy of the trees surrounding the path, seemed to be enveloping me. It was getting cold, too, and I could feel a chill passing through my light jacket, reaching deep inside to my very core.

I heard sounds, but I couldn’t be sure if they were the sounds of my own footfalls or if someone — or something — was lurking from within the trees, following me, waiting for just the right moment to pounce. I had never been so scared in my young life.

Why had I done this? I knew I was supposed to go right home after school. But I was new to this school and my best friend — my only friend, actually — had invited me to come over to his house to play after school.

My friend lived just on the other side of the woods, not that far from my own home, really. Just in the opposite direction from the school.

I knew how to get home from my usual starting point, the school, but now I was hopelessly lost. I didn’t know whether to continue in the direction I’d been walking, or to turn around and head back toward my friend’s house. But if I did turn around, would I even be able to find my way back there?

I came across a large, downed tree branch along the side of the path. Unsure about whether I should move ahead or turn back, I sat down on the branch. It was dark and it was cold. Fear was starting to overcome me and I began to cry.

“Hey kid,” I heard a voice say. It startled me. “Are you okay?” the voice asked.

“I’m lost,” I said between sobs, looking up at an older boy, who must have been a sixth grader.

“Where do you live?”

I gave the older kid my address; my parents had made me memorize it. “But if you take me back to my school, I can find my way home from there.”

The older boy grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “I know where you house is,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”

I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or to be wary. “Don’t talk to strangers,” my parents had warned me countless times. But in this case, the stranger was, himself, just a kid. Maybe only five or six years older than me. He was a godsend.

The older boy took me straight home to my worried parents, who were so relieved and overjoyed to see me. I was surprised to find my father there, as he normally didn’t get home from work until much later. My mother was crying tears of relief and happiness. So was my father. It was the first time I’d ever seen his father cry. My mother couldn’t stop hugging and kissing me, repeating “Oh thank God, oh thank God” over and over.

The next day, first thing in the morning, the principal’s voice was broadcast over the school’s P.A. system, to be heard in all of the classrooms throughout the building .

“Boys and girls,” she said. “When you leave the school in the afternoons, you must go directly home unless your parents have given you a signed permission slip authorizing you to go somewhere else after school.”

I knew why the principal had made that announcement on that particular morning. But no one in my classroom was looking at me, the new kid. The kid who should have known better.

And when I left school that afternoon, I walked confidently into the woods. The familiar, comforting woods that I knew would lead him home.

My Last Photo — November ‘22

Brian, aka Bushboy, posted his monthly Last on the Card prompt, where he asks us to…

  • Post the last photo from your camera’s SD card or the last photo from your phone taken in the month of November.
  • No editing — who cares if it is out of focus, not framed as you would like, or the subject matter didn’t cooperate?
  • No explanations needed — just the photo will do.
  • Create a pingback to Brian’s post or link in the comments.
  • Tag “The Last Photo.”

So here’s the last photo I took on my iPhone in November.

I took this photo yesterday afternoon at around 3:00 in my backyard. I was facing southwest looking at my backyard waterfall and plants, shrubs, and trees around and behind it. I love m’y backyard and probably have dozens of photos of it in by iPhone’s photo library. Just being in my backyard brings me joy and feelings of serenity.

Just FYI, in the interest of not running out of storage space in my WordPress media library (I’ve used 44% of my 6 GB allowance) and to ensure my posts load quickly, I reduce the size of the photos I post here. For example, the original photo on my iPhone is 12 megapixels and its size is 2.5 megabytes. The photo posted here is less than one megapixel and its size is only 405 kilobytes. Of course, the photo’s resolution is not as good as the original.

If any of you photography aficionados here on WordPress know how I can post the full-sized, original photos without blowing up my media folder and/or significantly slowing down how long it takes for my post to load, I’d love to hear from you.

One Minute Fiction — The Collection

“Do you like them?” Kevin asked his date, Annette, when he opened a cabinet and slowly pulled out a draw filled with insects laid out on a felt board. “I use these to make pins, earrings, broaches, bracelets, rings, and even necklaces.”

“They’re beautiful,” Annette said.

“I made them all by hand,” Kevin said proudly.

“That’s impressive,” Annette said. “What are they made of?”

“What do you mean?” Kevin asked her.

“Are they made out of plastic? Metal? Wood?” Annette asked.

Kevin laughed. “No, of course not. They are actual insects that I caught, dipped them live into epoxy and cured them in a special kiln I created. Finally, to give them their sheen, I put a thin coat of polyurethane on them. That brings out the brilliant colors.”

Annette excused herself, ran to Kevin’s bathroom, and threw up.

Written for Cyranny’s One-Minute Fiction prompt. Photo credit: Cyranny.

FOWC with Fandango — Workshop


Can you believe it’s already December 1, 2022? Welcome to Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (aka, FOWC). I will be posting each day’s word just after midnight Pacific Time (U.S.).

Today’s word is “workshop.”

Write a post using that word. It can be prose, poetry, fiction, non-fiction. It can be any length. It can be just a picture or a drawing if you want. No holds barred, so to speak.

Once you are done, tag your post with #FOWC and create a pingback to this post if you are on WordPress. Please check to confirm that your pingback is there. If not, please manually add your link in the comments.

And be sure to read the posts of other bloggers who respond to this prompt. Show them some love.