A few months ago, Connie bought a small autograph book at a garage sale. The first entry is dated December 28, 1939 leaving me to believe it was a Christmas gift. The original owner lived near Strickler, Arkansas and the signatures and personal notes appear to have been written by classmates and teachers at an all-girls school.
What really struck me was the flowery language. One classmate wrote (and I quote), “My love for you flows like water down a tater row.” Kind of chokes you up, doesn’t it? I don’t know when I’ve heard affection described in more elegant terms. And speaking of Purple Prose . . . .
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, our director, and lover of all shades of lavender, is Violet Haze Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
copyright – Roger Bultot
To reduce our carbon footprint, my wife and I bought a new hybrid vehicle for our landscape business. It’s a Johnston two-ton, flatbed powered by green vegetation or diesel. My wife refers to it as Big Johnston, or BJ for short.
Here’s how it works. BJ gulps down large loads of ivy, weeds, or grass clippings and turns them into methane gas. Certain plants, such as cabbage and broccoli, tend to generate a richer fuel blend, but also create noxious exhaust.
Avoid marijuana patches. BJ becomes lethargic and slow to react in traffic, followed by an insatiable appetite—gobbling flowers faster than you can plant them.
In case you missed it last week, here’s a reminder about the book release.
Between now and September 1st, you can pre-order The Perils of Heavy Thinking from Pen-L.com at a 15% discount.
After September 1st the book will be available on Amazon and through other book retailers at regular price
Horror, Psychological Thrillers, Poetry, Flash Fiction
Stories From Within
Finding ways to make words sparkle
This is the blog of a woman who is seriously on the edge and I mean right ON the edge…no, not there… just a little bit further… further than that…no, further still…just a tiny bit more… just move slightly to the right a little…no, that’s too much…just move a tad to the left…that’s right, just there…now you’ve moved too far to the left… Damn, what part of the ‘on the edge’ do you not understand? Oh, and her matricidal boy genius, come devil spawn.
Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
Growing older is inevitable. Growing up is optional.
I may make you feel, but I can't make you think.
All the Blogging That's Fit To Print
AS I TOLD THE GIRL THAT I LOST MY VIRGINITY TO, THANKS FOR LAUGHING AT ME HERE TODAY.
I don't write, I touch without touching.
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Stylistically Abusing Language for the Betterment of Mankind
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And the worst things. And all that weird stuff in between.