The pool was five feet but to a child of eight it might just have been the ocean.
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I am six, and I have failed swimming twice — or at least failed to progress from beginning beginners to intermediate beginners.  I swim in a styrofoam floatie, or, hanging on the edge of the pool, or in class, when the teacher supports my tummy and lets me  move both my arms and legs...
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Swimming along in life’s truck path and finding brief respite in cool waters found in southwestern Ohio. This is my submission for this week’s memoir prompt, Swimming, given to us by Kim Manley Ort… I was in my mid 30’s and life had worked its way into a boring, grinding trudge. For...
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For this week’s memoir prompt, we are going in over our heads to write about swimming. Here are some ideas: 1416535039 * A memorable time swimming with family or friends * Learning to swim or not being able to swim * A competitive swimming event * First swim in...
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How about a 55 word flash fiction piece about fleeting perfection? “He was the perfect man. Not a flaw,” she stuttered through the sobs. “I know, Daisy. It’s just not fair. Damn Drunk Drivers,” Ellen said with a compassionate hug, “You can always get another.” “No I can’t. In my stupid rage,...
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When I think of my maternal Grandpa, the first sensation is the aroma from the cherry tobacco he smoked in his pipe. I see him in his bib overalls with the red leather ball cap on and the pipe in his mouth. I know he must have worn other clothes, I’ve seen pictures of...
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They were the last two of my grandmother’s babies. Close as twins. One with flaming red hair and beautiful green eyes. The other, a blond Adonis. At seventeen and nineteen, they were coddled as the babies of the family, and praised by all for their good looks. It was on a rainy night. They...
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Putting a spin on constructing this 55 word series, it’s moving along in reverse. Her solemn vow…to never look back! Tears replaced with hard lines of determination. Levi’s cabin on Old Mill Road for her dad’s souped up fishing boat sealed the deal! Breeann already knew the bastard’s routine, she’d also perfected the timing....
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This is my entry for the Monkey Brain memoir prompt and contest. Before his detached retina and brain atrophy, my dad was a familial legend… Dad is a natural. I believe that application of his instinctive curiosity helped hone that trait too. He has no special training in anything he sets his mind to,...
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My entry for the memoir contest to write about a father, uncle, or grandfather. Just like everyone, Grandpa, you had your rough and smooth edges. I just wish I had known and understood both a little better. Although we had Sunday dinners at your place for many years, I feel like I know very...
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You may see an expanded version of this story inside of another I am contemplating. I am thinking about publishing a flash fiction series that revolves around what the tale, The Big Joke Theory , set up and Jimmy will have a minor role somewhere… Jimmy was a rock star. Letting sweet...
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Monkey mind, we all have one. It’s that mind that never stops thinking. It is also your critic and judge, telling yourself that you can’t write. Natalie Goldberg says, “Monkey mind can take the form of your mother, a nun, a professor, a priest.” That’s why you need to make yourself write, schedule it,...
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Cranston never knew what hit him! Stirring, groggy…there she stood! That bitch! He had beaten the charges! Struggling against restraints, hell-bent on slapping that smirk off her face! What was that taste in his mouth? Where was the blood coming from? After pulling his lips apart to scream, his tongue plummeted to the floor!
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Writing about itches, especially metaphorical ones, was not as easy as I thought it would be. I can think of several times in my life when I felt an itching to do something and jumped a little too quickly. Sometimes those don’t work out so well, like the time my neighborhood friends and I...
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This is my entry for the memoir prompt about itching. Itching for me is sore subject, because I itch constantly. My skin is not happy. I have tried to find out why, but no one has any concrete answers about why it does or how stop it. I have been diagnosed with everything from...
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I often wonder if I have true emotions and passion, or are they faux. I think I quit writing poetry 8 years ago because I knew the answer. I really don’t know how much longer I’ll keep this current streak of writing poems going… The blades of the pretty grasses...
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In response to the Memoir prompt – The Itch I learned at a very early age to recognize the plant above, Poison Ivy. I’ve always had a hypersensitivity to the plant. Experience taught me quickly that being around this seemingly innocent looking plant would make me miserable with a rash and itch that could...
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Yes, the memoir prompt is that simple this week. Write about a time you itched, physically or metaphorically. (pg. 50) And here is a clip from an interesting section of Natalie Goldberg’s book called “Sideways Step” about not entering your memoir writing head-on, but sideways. She talks about a friend who wrote really good...
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This 55 word flash fiction piece explores the further expansion of one man’s empire… Half the workshops were burned to the ground. Tiny kneecaps were shattered. Prancer’s head was found between red and white silk bed sheets. In the end, a labor contract was signed and Don Eberto, the man brought us the wildly...
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To tell the truth I have debated with myself all week, whether I wanted to enter a story about missing a grade in school. After all, they always say, ”If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” So, after much consideration, I have finally come up with what I...
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