Words Left Unsaid
Words Left Unsaid
Okay, this this one is a little weird, and I will admit I got a little overly involved in a post that has been going around social media, as seen below. This is the story of Jeanne, and how she finds Claude’s letter, over 150 years later. It also draw inspiration from this week’s Friday Picture Prompt on The Writer’s Mess, with the picture of the Love Locks. It is questionable as where this…
 
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More Posts from Anneswritingnook
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas...
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas…
This one is for the weekly picture prompt on The Writer’s Mess, shown below, and I will tell you that this one is a response to a challenge of “cozy horror” that I discussed with the Mess group a while back. Sit back and enjoy the holiday season with this lovely little Christmas story. Ernest lowered the needle onto the record, and stood eyes closed, as the opening baritone washed over him. He…
 
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dream:what?why?how?
 
A Chance Encounter
The word of the week is KNOT, and I feel like I just did one with this word, but of well, it’s a good word. This follows the story of Siobhan, who meets someone she should never have met and takes it all the way to the altar. It’s a bit of an experiment style wise, and has more worldbuilding in six-sentences than my last novel. Enjoy! Today I tied the knot, and it was the biggest…
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No Silver Linings...
No Silver Linings…
While there are exceptions, on the whole it seems that children don’t quite kid the way they used to. I was disappointed by this at Halloween, and then further surpised by in when babysitting a friends child. Makes me wonder what fiction will look like in 20 years… I remember being a kid and listening to the adults speak about back when they were a kid, and how lucky we had it and thought that…
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Out of Focus
Hello Hello, the word of the week was blur and it got really weird. The word blur was used for something moving to fast to see, and this week is horror, with all the blood, gore, and implied murder that I could pack into six sentences. Don’t read if you are squeamish, and if you aren’t. then join our poor narrator, witness to something unspeakable. Really, it’s never spoken. It was moving too…
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