Sunday Writing Prompt — The Quiet One

“Aren’t you the quiet one?” he said. It wasn’t a question as much as an observation. “You seem like someone who would be more of the incandescent type, someone who would want to be right in the thick of things, standing in the circle, entertaining the crowd with your storied tales of the realm. But there you sit, with nobody paying any attention to you.”

“I like it this way,” she said.

“I find it hard to believe that an attractive woman like you wants to be sitting alone. Wouldn’t you rather be sharing your time with a handsome, intelligent, interesting guy like me? You need to live the dream.”

She placed her finger to her lips and said, “Shh.”

“Ah, I see what the problem is,” he said. “You are seeking a formal introduction. Fine, my name is Alec. And yours is?”

“Alec,” she said, “you are fleet of tongue and probably full of drink, but I am thoroughly fine on my own.” She stood up, smiled, and said, “I encourage you to try your catfishing in a different lake.

Then she turned around and walked away.


Written for the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt. Photo credit: pixabay.com. Also for these daily prompts: Word of the Day Challenge (incandescent/nobody), Ragtag Daily Prompt in the circle), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (realm/thorough) nobody), MMA Storytime (dream/catfish), The Daily Spur (introduction/drink), Your Daily Word Prompt (fleet), and catfish

MLMM Sunday Writing Prompt — The Little Things

Was it pure happenstance, or was some other, more sinister factor at work? I was trying so hard to make friends, but it wasn’t working. Whatever was going on, it had me feeling exhausted.

I’d been in the region for only a few months, but given the way things were going, I was ready to cash in my chips, and head back home.

I asked my girlfriend — who was literally my only friend — if she could explain why she was the only person I’d met since my arrival who liked me or wanted to spend time with me. She said, “You’re going about it all wrong. You’re trying way too hard. Your attempts border on the extremity and it’s turning people off.”

“Well what can I do?” I asked. “Or is it too late?”

“I think there’s yet a way you can redeem yourself,” she said. “You are a good person, a nice guy. You just need to be genuine and to remember to simply enjoy the little things.”

That sounded good, until I found out later that something sinister was, indeed, afoot. It turns out that it wasn’t me who was the problem, it was her. She was sabotaging me because she wanted me all to herself. She was a conniving, controlling bitch. But at the end of the day, I really did enjoy the little things. Well, the little parts of her that I disposed of after I…. Well, that’s a story for another time, perhaps.


Written for the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt. Photo credit: Pixabay.com. Also for these daily prompts: MMA Storytime (happenstance), Word of the Day Challenge (exhausted), redeem The Daily Spur (region), Your Daily Word Prompt (extremity), and Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (redeem).

Sunday Writing Prompt — Poetic Justice

When I was but a young lad
I had a crush on a girl who lived on my block
She would mark up her sidewalk with chalk
In order to play hopscotch
A game whose premise I never quite got
But I enjoyed watching her leaping from spot to spot
And then bending over to pick up a rock

I once asked her if she’d teach me the game
And she responded in a collegial way
But I could never quite manage to hop properly
And she told me I was too heavy on my feet
So I ran home and returned with a bucket of water
That I poured over her chalk hopscotch squares

She started to cry and asked me why I did it
I said she mad me angry and my anger I needed to vent
“It’s poetic justice,” I yelled
Even though I didn’t know what it meant


Written for the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt, where we are asked to write about “poetic justice” using poetry. Anyone who reads my blog knows that poetry is not my forte. However, I decided to craft this rather ramshackle poem in the effort to meet today’s poetic challenge and, as well, to incorporate these daily prompts: MMA Storytime (hopscotch), Your Daily Word Prompt (premise), Word of the Day Challenge (leaping), Ragtag Daily Prompt (colleague) The Daily Spur (heavy), and Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (ramshackle).

Sunday Writing Prompt — Not My Circus

If you’re a hermit living in seclusion in a cave and are isolated from the rest of society, what I’m about to say doesn’t apply to you. For all of the rest of you, read on.

For this week’s Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Sunday Writing Prompt, Sara gives us a picture of the three iconic monkeys and the expression, “Not my circus, not my monkeys.”

But the reality is that it is our circus. We live in a world where each of us is affected, to one degree or another, by the actions, deeds, and words of others.

The symbolism of the three monkeys is that it depicts a lack of moral responsibility on the part of those who refuse to acknowledge impropriety, who look the other way, or who feign ignorance. Such people turn a blind eye to something that is legally, ethically, or morally wrong. These people see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil and pretend that they have not witnessed or are aware of wrongdoing, and, therefore, abdicate all responsibility for righting a wrong.

Today, those who exercise willful ignorance and cover their eyes, their ears, and their mouths and who are unwilling to see, hear, or speak the truth about Donald Trump’s Big Lie are the personification of the three monkeys in what is the circus of chaos that Trump has created and that they perpetuate.

Clearly almost all Republicans in the Congress of the United States of America, as well as GOP state and local elected representatives from around the country, have abdicated their responsibilities to uphold the U.S. Constitution and to act in the best interests of their constituents, the citizens of America.

And they are making monkeys out of the rest of us.


Photo credit: Pixabay.com

MLMM Sunday Writing Prompt — Am I Hallucinating?

Daniel pulled his head back from the powerful telescope at the observatory he was using to examine and evaluate the asteroid that was streaking across the western night sky. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He looked back at the image he saw in the telescope and thought that he had to be seeing things. “Hey Debbie, come here quickly,” he called out to his fellow astrophysicist who was on duty that night. Stepping down from the platform on which the telescope was mounted, he said, “Take a look at this and tell me what you see.”

Debbie stepped onto the platform, removed her glasses, and positioned her right eye over the cup of the eyepiece of the telescope. She twisted the focusing knob slightly until the image came into crisp focus.

“Tell me what you see,” Daniel insisted. Debbie stepped back and gave her fellow scientist a quizzical look. “Well?” Daniel asked.

“It’s the asteroid we’ve been following for the past several weeks, Daniel,” Debbie said.

“So you don’t see anything unusual about it?”

“What do you mean by unusual?” Debbie asked.

Daniel hopped onto the platform and looked at the asteroid again. “You don’t see any resemblance to a soccer ball? You don’t see those uniform black and white pentagon shapes across the surface of the asteroid? Am I hallucinating?”

Debbie smiled. “Well, there are what appear to be indentations on the leading surface of the asteroid that one might say gives the asteroid a slight resemblance to a soccer ball if one uses his or her imagination. That’s why the other day some of the team members jokingly nicknamed it the Beckham asteroid.”

“Oh thank God,” Daniel said. “I thought I may have been having an acid flashback and it was freaking me out.”

“Okay, then,” Debbie said, “can I get back to work now?”

“Sure, Debbie. I’m sorry to have interrupted you.”

“No worries, Daniel,” Debbie said, “but you might want to make an appointment with an ophthalmologist.”


Written for the Sunday Writing Prompt from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. Image credit: Pixabay.com.