FOOTPRINTS CHALLENGE BY A FRANK ANGLE


Usually I don’t participate in challenges but I thought this one was not too much of a commitment.  The rules were 150 words or less in any genre, show the photo below, show my STAR for meeting the challenge and link back to A Frank Angle’s post and his story.

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND

     The jogger was back on the beach…the one with the black wavy hair and black shorts; torso legs and arms brown with perspiration even at seven o’clock in the morning.  He reminded the old lady of someone but she couldn’t remember his name or what had been their relationship, whether lover, friend or only a strangerThe young jogger never knew that he was faithfully watched from four floors up by a woman who thought she knew him or had known someone in her past who looked like him.

Today he was barefooted and walked slowly with a piece of driftwood to steady himself.  The old lady resisted a strong desire to wave to him as she sipped her morning coffee.

Here is the link to AFrankAngle.  https://afrankangle.wordpress.com/2017/07/10/on-footprints-in-the-sand/


 

 

Advertisements

TALES OF THE BLUE INDIGO


My WordPress stats tells me that my last post was over two months ago.  It is probably the longest that I have gone without posting at least a quote or photo.  I confess that I have tried to keep up with many of the blogs I follow, but I know I have missed many good posts.  That will be my loss!

My goal for this year, as confided to Loren Rhoads of Cemetery Travels:  Adventures in Graveyards Around the World, was to finish a piece that I started several years ago and abandoned because I could not figure out who the murderer was going to be or what the motive would be.  Perhaps I don’t multi-task as well as I used to because I couldn’t seem to post regularly and finish my writing project.  Many bloggers manage write books and still post every day.  I had to choose to solve my murder and finish my novella-sized project, “Tales of the Blue Indigo,” although it does need a bit of polishing .  At least I can go on to other writing projects like another incomplete one I titled, “North Beach.”  Right now I am now sure what I will do with any of my writing.  Perhaps I will combine them into a collection in my other blog, Tales of the Blue Indigo, that only has one post  just published but I would be happy to have you visit.  The first post is a rather long story titled, “Sug.”  I would welcome feedback!

Here is the opening paragraphs of chapter one of my completed writing project,“Tales of the Blue Indigo.”

            Joe T. suspected that the old man had brought him along on the ride only to

open and close the gates…then he saw the snake.

     Will McNally, an old man at sixty in the eyes the young Joe T., stomped a worn

cowboy boot down roughly on the brake. The blue Chevy pickup stopped like an

obedient quarter horse as the dust it had been kicking up behind caught up with it

and started settling down on top of it.  The two cow dogs riding in the back stood       

with their front legs on the side of the pickup bed and began barking as McNally

opened the door and jumped out of the truck like a roper off a horse at a rodeo.

     “Buster, Lady! Shut up!” he growled. The dogs went silent as their owner crept

around the back of the truck like some Comanche in a raiding party.

Joe T., grateful for the air conditioner blowing in his face, could only stare ahead in

creeping fear as the rattlesnake dragged its heavy body out of the thick brush and

across  the gray dust and ruts of the dirt road. He jumped in his seat as McNally’s

face, tanned and lined as a fine cigar, appeared in the passenger window as his hand

motioned for Joe T. to open the window. With shaking fingers he pushed the

automatic button as the tinted glass glided down silently. McNally had left the truck 

running , its humming diesel idle was the only sound to compete with his pumping 

heart.  The heavy heat drifted into the truck and the cool air floated out.

     “That’s a big son of a bitch,” McNally whispered, “just watch – maybe you’ll

learn a new trick. Here, take my hat. Be quiet and stay out of my way no matter what

happens,” he warned as he took off his tan felt Stetson to reveal wavy silver hair with

remnants of black that had once been the majority.