Wednesday, October 19, 2016


I stared at the old typewriter in the second hand store reliving memories of high school typing class.

Once we learned the keyboard basics, we spent our forty minute class typing to music. The idea was to achieve a basic rhythm. Our first song was:

How    much    is    that    dog---gy    in    the    win-dow,    the  
     tap       tap     tap   tap     tap    tap  tap   tap    tap   tap     tap

one with the wagg---le---y     tail.
                            tap  tap  tap  tap     tap  tap   tap

By the end of semester, we were speed demons, grooving to the king, ‘Elvis’.  Anyone walking past the typing lab would hear the rhythmic tap tap tap to:

You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog
Cryin’ all the time


Let's rock everybody, let's rock
Everybody in the whole cell block
Was dancin' to the jail house rock.

WE were the cool kids. Typing class ROCKED!


Flash Fiction Prompt Provided By:

Visit me on my Facebook Author Page HERE.

Wednesday, October 5, 2016


Another Wednesday story - enjoy!

Animal Crackers

Moving day, I drove to Mom’s. She stood surrounded by hobby farm animals. The farmer who was moving the animals didn’t show.

I made some calls; soon realizing we were on our own. The new owners arrived, annoyed we were still there. An hour later, we headed out in my hatchback, the backseat tied to the roof.

Almost at the new farm, a police car pulled me over. The officer leaned through the open window speechless..

Barclay barked. The parrot shouted: “Hello.” The ducks quacked and Dickens, the goat bleated before leaning forward to grab the officers shiny shirt buttons.

“I’m sorry I missed the stop sign, Officer. The kitten ran under the brake pedal and I didn’t want to hurt him. We’re just a ways down this road.”

He pulled back, shaking his head and laughing. “I’m not even going to ask. Carry on and drive safe.”

This promp provided by:

Follow me on my Facebook Author Page HERE.

Wednesday, September 28, 2016


By The Sea

Kelly closed her computer, packed files into the box on her desk, and leaned back in her chair. She swivelled towards the left of her desk and stared at the full wall mural featured behind a sea green coloured couch. Fern trees flanked the sofa, centered on an oval rug with a cherry wood coffee table.

Her home office was her favourite place to sit and muse the seven months she lived and worked in the city.

The mural reminded her of New England—the sea, fish, waves, sea grasses, and snails.

Tomorrow, she was driving to Old Orchard Beach, Maine to her summer home. Five months of writing, visiting friends, sea food and walking miles along the sandy beach.

Kelly rose and stood in front of the mural. She smiled.

Thanks for keeping me sane until I return to my happy place by the sea.


Picture Prompt Provided by:

Visit me at my FB Author Page HERE

Wednesday, September 21, 2016



The manager led me around the office floor I’d work on should they hire me.

“We love open floor plans with glass walls. Less claustophic for our employees, and the glass reflects natural light. Small areas look  bigger.”

As she prattled on about advantages of glass offices, I sorted my thoughts.

The glass separating the desks reminded me of a prison where visitors and inmates talk through glass. The managers’ glass offices afforded them a clear view to study their monkeys every move. Or a hospital ICU where rooms with glass walls are built around  nurses’ stations so they can observe patients. No plants, no pictures, cold and all business. No privacy; everyone can watch you leave to go to the bathroom.

“Thank you so much for considering me for the position but I don’t think this company and I are a good fit.

Walking away, I shuddered.

Flash fiction prompt provided by

Visit me on my Facebook Author Page HERE.

Wednesday, August 24, 2016



I dug in the dirt, prepping the soil with fertilizer. As I worked, my thoughts wandered. Everything I knew about gardening was through  my grandfather’s teachings. Working by his side as a child had always been such fun. That is until as a teenager, I’d rather hang at the mall with friends than be sent to my grandparents house while my mother worked.

On one such occasion, we were planting flowers in front of the newly painted farmhouse. Grampa rambled on. I’d barely listened.

“If you paint an old house white it looks clean and fresh. And if you plant bright red flowers against the white walls, the house pops and looks new.”

I’d rolled my eyes and promptly forgot his words...until now.

Standing in front of my freshly painted white home, with the newly planted trailing red blooms and red roses, I smiled.

“I miss you, Grampa.”


Flash fiction prompt provided by:
Visit me on my Facebook Author Page HERE.

Wednesday, August 17, 2016


I've been scarce the past few weeks with my flash fiction post. Blame it on summer, family, and visitors. Now I'm back. Enjoy!


First came the sorrow, then the pain of loss, followed by the anger.

In the end, it was the depression that engulfed me.

Know that I’m surrounded by caring and loving people. But there are no words or actions to take away the emptiness within. They worried about me but they didn’t understand. He was the love of my life, father to my children, best friend, lover and soul mate.

Then one day, I saw one; soon they appeared everywhere. I picked up the soft, fluffy white feather. It would join the others in my little jewelled box. You see, he sent them, all of them—to let me know he was still around.

I looked out to sea, took in the sunlight dancing across the waves, the blueness of the sky, and heard the cry of the sea gulls.

For the first time in months, I smiled.


Flash fiction prompt provided by
Visit me at my Facebook Author Page HERE

Wednesday, July 27, 2016


Good morning everyone. Wednesday again. The summer is just flying by. Soon it will be September 1st and my third book of The Georgia Series will be released. More on that next post. Meanwhile, hope you enjoy my story for today. It is really a true story not fiction, based on my memories of raising my son.


I arrived to pick up my twelve-year-old from his first job; babysitting a boy after school until his mother arrived from work.

A difficult kid but my son handled him well. Whenever his mother showed, his charge acted out.

Cleaning up the playroom, my son stooped to pick up darts on the floor. In a tantrum, the boy threw a dart as he stood. It  wedged in my son’s back beside the spine. My son hit the floor, turning white. “Mom, I can’t feel anything in my back.”

The kid’s mother smiled at her son, telling him he shouldn’t do that. Furious, I took mine to emergency. The dart penetrated a muscle, causing a spasm that left him numb. Otherwise, all good.

Driving home, my son said: “I’m sorry, Mom but I’m quitting my job.”

I smiled. “Good call.”

I wonder whatever happened to that Social Worker’s kid?


Writerly Wednesday Flash Fiction Picture Prompts Provided By:

Visit me on my Facebook Author Page HERE.