#writephoto / Weekend Writing Prompt — The Cliffs

The first time Sara and I visited these cliffs, we took the train from the city, rented bikes, and rode to this site. The view was spectacular and Sara had a special glow about her. We fell in love.

I have should known that our love was hopeless. She came from a wealthy family and, to her parents, status was everything. When she told them about me, they furrowed their eyebrows in disapproval and forbade her from seeing me.

We now stand together at the precipice, nothing left to live for. In this world, anyway.

(Exactly 94 words)


Written for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing prompt, where the word is “glow.”

Also for KL Caley’s #writephoto prompt. Photo credit: KL Caley.

Also for these daily prompts: The Daily Spur (train), Word of the Day Challenge (spectacular), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (hopeless), and My Vivid Blog (eyebrows).

Damn You, WordPress

Now you’ve gone and done it, WordPress. You’ve removed the “Use Block Editor” toggle on the settings menu in the latest update (version 17.1) of the WordPress iOS app.

Up until yesterday, if this toggle was set to off, I could create new posts on my iPhone using the iOS version of the classic editor, or what I referred to as “classic lite.” Now those of us, like me, who blog primarily from our iPhones, have no choice when creating a new post other than to use the block editor. There is no longer an option to switch to the classic editor.

Interestingly, there are still ways to access the classic editor when using wordpress.com in a browser on a laptop, but that option is no longer available in the iOS app.

Yes, because you’ve given me no choice, I’m struggling to write this post on my iPhone using the block editor. And at this point, I’m going to have to try to push my way through this because I am not ready to quit blogging.

But I have always felt that when the day comes that blogging on WordPress becomes more of a chore than a pleasure, it will be time for me to leave. And with this latest decision on your part to remove the classic editor altogether from the iOS app, that day may finally have come.

At the risk of sounding overly melodramatic, I feel like I’m standing at the precipice and all I see before me is a blogging abyss.

#writephoto — Into the Deep

Craig was the adventurous one. Alan was more cautious. So naturally, Craig had to cajole his older brother, to call him a pussy and a wimp, in order to get him to walk to the edge of the ravine and to look down at the dark, swirling water far below.

“Feel like going for a swim, bro?” Craig teased. “It’s so damn hot and I bet diving into the chilly water would be really refreshing.”

“No way,” Alan said as he backed away from the edge. “You’d have to be crazy to jump in the water from this height. If you want us to go swimming to cool off, let’s hike back down the path to the water’s edge at the bottom of the ravine.

“I can’t believe my big brother is such a wus,” Craig said. “You go ahead and hike back down there, Alan, and call up to me when you get there so you can witness my feat of heroism and athleticism.”

“Craig, you’re nuts,” Alan said. “You don’t even know how deep the water is at this spot. Please, I’m begging you, come with me. Don’t do it. It’s not worth getting hurt or worse.”

“Sorry, Alan,” I’m not a wimp like you. I’m going to dive in now.” Craig took a deep breath, moved to the precipice, gave a Tarzan-like shout, and dived.

******

Alan couldn’t shake the tremendous guilt he felt for not being able to talk his kid bother out of his reckless act. Tears streamed down his eyes as he sat at Craig’s funeral three days later.


Written for Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt. Also for Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (swim), and Ragtag Daily Prompt (chilly).

Fandango’s Friday Flashback — May 8

Wouldn’t you like to expose your newer readers to some of you earlier posts that they might never have seen? Or remind your long term followers of posts that they might not remember? Each Friday I will publish a post I wrote on this exact date in a previous year.

How about you? Why don’t you reach back into your own archives and highlight a post that you wrote on this very date in a previous year? You can repost your Friday Flashback post on your blog and pingback to this post. Or you can just write a comment below with a link to the post you selected.

If you’ve been blogging for less than a year, go ahead and choose a post that you previously published on this day (the 8th) of any month within the past year and link to that post in a comment.


This post was originally published on May 8, 2018. It was written for that day’s daily one-word prompt from WordPress, “rapid.”

Rapid Transit

441E04ED-AA8B-4E7E-9770-6A27CE143635Eugene looked at his watch as his patience was running thin. He looked at the overhead display. It read “NEXT TRAIN IN FIVE MINUTES.” It had said that for the last three minutes.

Eugene looked around at the others waiting on the platform. No one else seemed bothered by the delay. Some were reading books, magazines, or newspapers. Others had their eyes glued to their smartphones, and still others were moving to the beat of silent music heard only by them through their earbuds.

“We’re like a group of lemmings,” Eugene thought, “standing at the precipice just waiting to step off.”

Eugene looked at his watch again. Then he heard the rumble of the subway train heading into the station. He looked towards the tunnel and saw the train’s light growing brighter.

“Finally,” Eugene said aloud. But then he heard some grumbling from the crowd on the platform. He looked up and saw that the display had changed to “TRAIN WON’T STOP” as it rumble through the station.

“Rapid transit my ass,” he said.

Fandango’s Friday Flashback — August 30

My apologies. I totally forgot yesterday to post my Friday Flashback prompt. It’s been that kind of week, I’m afraid — a day late and a dollar short. Oh well.

Wouldn’t you like to expose your newer readers to some of you earlier posts that they might never have seen? Or remind your long term followers of posts that they might not remember?

Each Friday I will publish a post I wrote on this exact date in a previous year.

How about you? Why don’t you reach back into your own archives and highlight a post that you wrote on this very date in a previous year? You can repost your Friday Flashback post on your blog and pingback to this post. Or you can just write a comment below with a link to the post you selected.

If you’ve been blogging for less than a year, go ahead and choose a post that you previously published on this day (the 30th) of any month within the past year and link to that post in a comment.


This was originally posted on August 30, 2018 in response to a Thursday Photo Prompt from Sue Vincent.

The Apparition

549D5FE6-461F-4A4B-AB7D-9A517CA9C204Sean came back to this site every year since the incident five years earlier. As it was almost every time he came here for that auspicious anniversary, there was a thick mist hanging in the air. He stared at the point where he had last seen her and tears of regret filled his eyes.

His last view of Wendy was etched into his brain. She had walked to the land’s edge and was staring down at the waves crashing into the rocks far below. “Be careful, hon,” he remembered calling out to her. “Don’t get so close to the precipice.” And then she was gone.

I can’t believe how oblivious I was, Sean thought. I totally missed all of the signs. Her sister had warned Sean that something was wrong, but Sean thought her sister was a drama queen and was seeing things that weren’t there. But her sister was right all along. Clearly Wendy was suffering from a serious depression and Sean, preoccupied by his own issues, was distracted.

Sean heard a voice calling his name. It was Wendy’s voice, calling him to come over to her. He looked toward the edge of the bluff and saw Wendy standing there in the thick mist, looking down at the water far below. “Sean,” he heard her say. “Sean, come to me, come be with me.”

In a trance-like state, Sean walked toward Wendy. As he approached the cliff’s edge, Wendy was gone. Sean moved cautiously toward the edge and he heard Wendy’s voice calling him from below. He peered over the edge and saw her standing in the surf. “Come to me,” he heard her say to him. “Come be with me for eternity.”