When I think legend, I think Janis.

 

“Janis Joplin perfectly expressed the feelings and yearnings of the girls of the electric generation  to be all woman, yet equal with men; to be free, yet a slave to real love; to [reject] every outdated convention, and yet get back to the basics of life.

janisjoplin60s.jpg


she died at a mere twenty seven
needle still in her arm
all alone in some
lonely hotel room
not far from hollywood blvd…
they say her appetites put her asunder-
and mourn a future- that would never unfold…


she was the pearl
that come outta port arthur
the embodiment of
gritty texas soul
she was everything
i have ever dreamed i might be-
and she died – ’cause legends can’t never get old…

This is a reprint of something I wrote on my now defunct blog …why paisley??? back in 2008 paired down to meet the word count requirements.

Word Count: 120

Weekend Writing Prompt
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little boys

Photo by MabelAmber at Pixabay.com

Character Count: 278

“Look.”

“Move over. Lemme see.”

“Look!”

“OK. OK. What is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“Mom and Dad’s room. In the drawer.”

“The drawer?”

“Yeah. The drawer.”

“Uh oh.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“How you gonna get it back in there?

“I don’t know.”

“You’re dead.”

“I know.”

“But what is it?”

For Kat’s Twittering Tales

Par(t)cel post

Word Count: 100

It had long since become common knowledge that her husband had boarded a flight to parts that remain unknown, taking with him the sum total of their accumulated wealth…

To anyone that might inquire, Emily would simply smile and say, “I’m picking up the pieces.”

And she was… Literally.

Piece by piece she had wrapped him in blue tape and bubble wrap, and mailed him off to that lovely man they had met on their last trip abroad- the one who had agreed to place a few collectibles in cold storage for them-  for a small sum of course.

Prompt courtesy of Friday Fictioneers

It was dark.

Photo: Jodi Mckinney

 

From the sleeper, she could hear the truck downshifting, and awoke with a start.

He was sitting on her chest. The fat, bald, truck driver- the one that had offered to take her as far as Memphis- was sitting on her chest. Straddling her. His thick legs holding her arms tight at her sides.

“Come on now. Take it..”

She did.

What else could she do? He was sitting on her chest.

When he was done- he was done.. He wanted her out of the truck…

She would have stayed… She had nowhere to go… It was dark..

Word Count: 98

 

Photo Prompt courtesy of FFFAW

 

 

Closing Arguments

Good Afternoon Your Honor, Distinguished Counsel, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury. Let me open by thanking the Special Prosecutors Office for their input in this case. I doubt the trial evidence would have been able to get past the effusiveness with which the Defense, like sacred carrion, attempted to prey on your empathy- to make the rippling impact it did- without a dominant effort on their part to regulate the almost magical stream of uninterrupted nuance the Defense Council slash chiromancer wrestled into testimony.

MLMM Wordle- trial wrestling regulate nuanced uninterrupted chiromancer* magical carrion effusive input impact dominant

RDP- Ripple

FOWC- Special

Daily Word Prompt- Sacred


Last Call

Word Count: 200

She had met Geoffrey online. He was handsome, mysterious and devastatingly rich. Everything she had ever wanted in a man, and more than she could ever have hoped to catch had she remained Katie Shaw, hash slinging single mom from Seattle.

So she had reinvented herself. She had become Katerina Du Shaun, smart, single, sexy, everything a self made man like Geoffrey would be looking for in a wife. She had worked him long and hard, and finally he had asked her to fly to London and marry him.

“Last call to board flight 764 to New York LaGuardia at gate 27C. Last call to board…”

She dropped her Washington State ID in the flushing commode, grabbed her overnight case and took off without even stopping to wash her hands. It was imperative that she make this flight. It would have her at LaGuardia in time to make her transatlantic connection, and at this moment in time, that was all that mattered.

She almost looked back to see if her son Alex was still standing in the center of  the crowd watching their luggage-  waiting for her to return from the restroom.

But decided against it at the last minute.

Photo prompt courtesy of Sunday Photo Fiction

The Hilliard Estate

Word Count: 82

We had been with living with one foot on land and the other in water, our own lives penciled in, and promptly erased when called upon to perform some laughable task.

That was behind us now. With Erskine ‘Squat’ Hilliard safely tucked away in a dank mausoleum, the grueling years of capitulation were set to pay off.  

Flying in on separate flights, we would connect at one of Hilliard’s lesser known holdings, where the celebration would begin in earnest.

Who’s laughing now?

Crimson’s Creative Challenge

MLMM “Opposing Forces” water/land; separate/connect

FOWC Pencil

RDP Squat

Word of the Day Challenge Capitulate

Weekend Writing Prompt Celebration