Tag: fiction fun
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The Saga of Tom and Jo #21
Can You Tell A Story In… It’s Thursday again and so I’m here to give you a new story challenge. Can you tell a story in 34 words using the following words in it somewhere: So thankful my grandchildren were bookworms and engrossed in their new Junie B. Jones books, the plane ride from Memphis…
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Saga of Tom and Jo #18
Can you tell a story in 52 words using the following words: She had no clue. How comical how much they looked and acted alike. She was pirouetting on one foot hanging on every syllable from Tom. Egging me on about going, “Mom, you’re friends and he is not that creepy wrestler who always asks…
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Night
Night Are you scared of the dark? Walking quietly through the park and I besotted a dangerous Pythonian Snark Squeezing a Draconian Beetleglub with all its might While its fangs glowing venom lit up the night. The chaotic sight caused several to develop Pandemodicus Pox marks.
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Can you tell a story in…#16 The Saga of Tom and Jo
Can you tell a story in 63 words using the following words in it somewhere: #16 Saga of Tom and Jo “You look like you’ve aged 30 years since I crossed the room. So octogenarian but this guy…” cutting her eyes. “Excuse us. I thought you worked the Urgent Clinic tonight?” “Swamped with overdoses; lost…
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Can you tell a story in 80 words Jo and Tom #12
Jo, you look like you are a million miles away.” Centuries away in the video reel in my mind, 1969, thought Jo. “This creepy museum and I feel ridiculous in this tight dress, red pumps, and red lips. Looking like a beached mermaid, I’m sorry.” “I just found you. You should have been a special…
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Can you tell a story in 54 words Jo and Tom #11
Thinking now of gestational acne rolling down HWY 41, Jo turned the radio on; the song was “Spaceman” by Harry Nilsson. Would Tom be happy? Would he want to come home? His husky voice rejoiced leaving his alcoholic, abusive father and sharecropper shack. No more picking wheelbarrows full of lettuce 12 hours a day.
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Can you tell a story in 40 words Jo and Tom #10
I tell no one, especially Tom. I loved Tom too much to make a puddle of his life. Knapsack, tip money, and favorite bonsai, we (baby and me) headed toward the interstate in my “Fishbowl,” my 1977 yellow Plymouth Pacer.
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