Tripping Through My Memories

cch217

first kiss

It was summer, I was 14 and I had discovered the music of Queen, which I listened to constantly on my Walkman. I had let my very good friend dye my long dirty blonde hair, red, with permanent hair coloring, my mother was not amused. She let me grow it out and then she chopped it all off at my chin line. I was attending one of those summer camps that teach theater, dance, music and art. I was into art, watercolor, sculpture, calligraphy and film appreciation, that summer we were studding Jodie Foster.

There was a guy, (there is always a guy) he was a little older 16 I think, we had many classes together we talked, hung-out and flirted. Towards the end of camp during our film appreciation class he started taking my pencil out of my hand repeatedly. Film appreciation class was taught in a theater style classroom we sat towards the back of…

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Wishing White

MADD FICTIONAL

Woman-face-black-and-white-283819715

Connie screamed and hurdled down the flight of stairs like she was on fire. She made a run for the front door, fingers frantically fumbled at the night latch, deadbolt and lockset. Head on a swivel, she tossed panicked glances over her shoulder at the middle-aged black man bounding down the stairs toward her.

The final lock tumbled, she grabbed the knob and tugged but the man rushed up from behind and slammed the door shut. He spun the whippet-thin woman around as if she weighed nothing, took her by the shoulders and pressed her against the door. Connie let out an ear-piercing screech that he cut short by clamping his massive hand over her mouth.

“Stop it, do you hear me? I’m not trying to put on a show for the neighbors, so I need you to stop screaming. Just. Stop.” He held her there for a long moment…

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Strong Roots Amongst The Clay

MADD FICTIONAL

Clay Boy

Once there was a kindly woman who was known all about the town as Lovely Lucy, not so much for her appearance, for she was endowed with plain features—which wasn’t a bad thing at all—but she was called this because she was arguably one of the sweetest people who ever walked the face of the planet. The only parts of her life that suffered were her love life and her inability to bear children.

One morning, Lucy went to market and spoke with the town sculptor, who made statues large and small, some for himself and some which he sold. Lucy hadn’t much money so she explained what she wanted to do and begged the sculptor to spare some clay and promised to pay him another day. The sculptor remembered how Lucy had brought soup and sat by his bedside when he had taken ill, and gladly gave her as…

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Writing about writing

The Wordsmithing World of Benjamin

I don’t usually write about writing. For one, I’d usually rather write than write about it. Also, everyone’s writing style and philosophy is different. This causes me to grumble against headings like …

“Do It This Way and You Will Succeed as a Writer.”

I always read it as …

“Do It My Way or You Will Never Amount to Anything.”

Maybe those bloggers are right, or maybe I’ll just amount to something different. So I only have one rule for writers.

“Thou shalt write.”

If you stick to that rule then you are a writer. Congratulations. You may now put “writer” in your profile.

Everything else falls into place after the first rule. If you keep writing, you will be reading the work of others, getting feedback, and honing your craft. You will be doing these things because you want all that writing effort to be the best it…

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Three Days

cch217

The Call (Wednesday Night)

Jane’s phone rang, she looked at the incoming call, Charlie it read.

“Fuck, only one reason for him to call.” She answered the phone.

There is only one reason for someone that hasn’t seen or spoken to you in over 20 yrs to call at night out of the blue. That reason is because someone has died.

Charlie is Jane’s younger brother, the middle child. The one that pushed the boundaries and broke the rules but was never punished. Unlike Jane who was the oldest and only daughter that was given responsibilities of starting dinner, helping her two younger brothers with their homework, daily chores and routines.

A constant loop of get up go to school, come home do chores, eat dinner, go to bed. Rinse and repeat. Which she did, followed the rules did what was asked of her, gave lip-service. A regular people pleaser. Till…

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Bus Stop

cch217

I work as a waitress at a bar and grill called The Lodge, I work late afternoon early evening. I walk pass the same guy at the same bus stop every day, he’s good looking early 30’s, average build about 6 feet tall, short dark hair and wear’s glasses. He is either coming home from work or going to work, I can’t quite tell, he is always wearing black work boots, dark blue work pants, and a black Carhartt work jacket.

He enjoys an energy drink along with a cigarette every time I see him, so one day I took it upon myself to pass out some two for one drink special flyers on my way to work. I crossed the street and walked past the bus stop and made eye contact with his dark green eyes, and smiled at him as I invited him to get a drink at The Lodge…

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So, what’s happening?

Mark Lumby

Well, not as much as most indie writers out there who seem to be placing submissions everywhere at the moment. I will get to the point where I’m writing more, but unfortunately I’m not at the stage where I’m writing 3 books a year! I’m a slow burner!

But what I have written this year is a short story called ‘Lord of the Harvest’ which I submitted to Matthew Cash charity anthology by the name ‘Hymnbook’. The paperback is out now, or download the ebook from 14 June.

ClickHymnbook for information.
I also released the large short story ‘Bag of Buttons’ and is available at Amazon for download.

ClickBag of Buttons for more information.
The novel ‘the unlikely kind’ is still being edited but I really want to get this one out there.

But next up will be another short story called ‘Rats in the Loft’ followed by…

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