Amber Alert

“All of our hard work. The ungrateful brats don’t care how much blood and tears goes into it.”

“That’s right, but today we’re finally gonna make ‘em pay.”

“Are you sure this will work, Mabel?”

“‘Course it will. School lets out every day at three, there’s always a bunch of kids headed this way.”

“Time to show those little monsters who runs this town!”

“Is this what organized crime is like? I’m so excited!”

“Shhh, quiet Bessy. Here comes one now.”

Photo courtesy of Waushara County Police Department. Dated July 17, 1997. First recorded meeting of the Central Wisconsin Moofia.

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In response to this month’s 100WordStory photo prompt:

Photo Credit: Taj Campbell

Party on, Puck

Following the sounds of drum and fiddle, I tiptoed down the stairs, unobtrusive as a shadow into my back yard.

They cavorted and capered in the moonbeam, flickers of color and movement. Tiny people, translucent dresses and just the hint of rapidly beating wings on the females and the jolly little men in verdant square-cut coats and jauntily cocked hats. Passing hand to hand in a ring to a joyous and unearthly reel.

Some noise alerted them. The music ceased abruptly. The last of them vanished through a gap in the fence.

Only the circle of toadstools was left.

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In response to this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt:

PHOTO PROMPT – © Erin Leary

 

Trash taken out

A sink of dishes to do, on the honey-do chore list. But I’m “gathering my energy”. Most folks would call it “stalling” or “wasting time”.

Because, honestly, I’m not terribly eager to face the sink monster this morning.

But I’m also thinking about several story hooks, and how I want to write them. So see, I am doing something! I’m plotting and not-writing!

:sigh:

Anyway you look at it, I should be feeling guilty for not getting A done or not getting B done or my expanding arse occupying a computer chair again.

But it’s my day off! Aren’t I entitled to enjoy the “not-working” which that implies, a little bit, before climbing back into harness and towing the load of salt out of the mine?

See what this blogging thing does? Writing (once an enjoyable leisure activity) now viewed with a degree of “Ugh, work, do not like”. When did that happen?

Annie, how many more weeks until vacation? And Spring?

Meanwhile, dishes are not washing themselves. Nor are brilliant plot ideas leaping magically into my head. Curse you, imagination. Work better. Tote that barge, lift that bail,  nose to the grindstone, whipcrack.

Sadly, even grumbling about chores is way more fun that those Daily Prompt topics have been, lately.

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Sigh… Now I have to Face the Sink.