The Standing Stones


He chased her through
the standing stones,
to catch, seize her
smile and laughter.
He crashed into
megalith‘s bones
to a place of
grass and heather.
Now he’s lost to
a world unknown
unable to tear
at the aether.
She laughs anew,
his pitied groan
feeding banshee’s
lustful anger.

This poem was written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt, Megalith. Because I didn’t know the word before looking it up, I thought I’d clarify that a megalith is a stone structure like stonehenge. Pretty neat!

Photo by Stephen + Alicia on


cold cool drink field

“Is that mint you’re muddling for my mojito?”

“Yes,” I lied as I crushed poison ivy.


Hello, everyone! It’s been a while since I got around to a Weekend Writing Prompt, but here we are! #149 is muddle, and what a better use of muddle than in the mixed drink sense*? So sit back, relax, and enjoy the pandemic!

*I don’t drink, so I can’t be sure.

Photo by PhotoMIX Ltd. on

The Death Machine

bloom blooming blur brick wall

Some new thoughts
are scary-
they’ll ruin our

So we’ll fight,
kill to choose
the future’s

Why must the
death machine
precede a new


This was written for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #146, Epoch, in 27 words.

Tea Ceremony

Tea Ceremony

The courtesan poured from the teapot into the fairness cup, mixing the water and steeped flavanols before splitting it into two dainty cups.

The client took a cup and sipped. “This ceremony soothes me.”

The courtesan nodded. “As it was designed to.”


This was written for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #121teapot. I considered writing about the Teapot Dome scandal, but I just couldn’t fit it into 42 words! 😦

So here you go – hopefully something calm, soothing, and visual.

Photo by 五玄土 ORIENTO on Unsplash

Watch for Witches

gnome on swing chair

Red-capped Jeroboam soldered the gear. He wound the mechanism and let it go. The device turned and whirred as he expected, so he put it down to tinker on it further.

“What are you making, gnome?” asked a human customer.

“A device that tells time. Wind it up in the morning, and it will work all day.”

“Sounds like witchcraft.”

The gnome squinted. “You could make one too, if you’d get over that ‘witch’ crap.”


This was written for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #119Tinker. As an avid D&D player, I immediately thought of tinkering gnomes and couldn’t put that idea down!

Photo by Susanne Jutzeler on

The Days of Old

grayscale photo of explosion on the beach

“Tell me about the days of old,”
Asked the little girl.
“Tell me how the giants collapsed,
And towns in fire whirled.” 

The bard hummed and strummed his citurn,
And his strings did tune.
“This is not a song for the weak,
But it’s before noon.

“I hope tonight you’ll soundly sleep;
Blame yourself if not.”
The young girl sat with bated breath,
Hoping to be distraught.

“Back before the nuclear fires,
Buildings did shimmer
And reached to lofty sky with spires
‘Til skies grew dimmer.

“The sun disappeared behind airplanes
Carrying the bombs.
Then cancerous growths emerged
On those who survived…”


This was written for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #118, Song. I feel like this was left incomplete, but perhaps we’ll investigate that some other day?

Photo by Pixabay on

River Pirate

landscape lake hd wallpaper

He put out of the meandering river at the horseshoe bend.  The sails of larger ships waited on the other side of the bend for the wind to change.

He slunk through the water to the ships, hoping to steal gold, perhaps escape wearing a fancy dress.


This was written for the Weekend Writing Prompt #104 – and, since it fulfill’s Joanne’s prompt in part, you can expect a follow-up to this story…

Photo by Donald Tong on


light black and white man person

You caught me stealing.  Can money buy silence?  Would you rather nap with the fishes?


This was written for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #100 (100?!  So cool!), silence.  15 words was just slightly too long for a haiku, methinks, so you get this micro-short story!

Photo by Siobhan Dolezal on


ocean water wave photo

What made the gods cry
Great saltwater tears
Such that their anguish
Filled ocean trenches?
What suckling babe died,
Leaving lone parents,
To form the seashores?
What child was sent off
With hopes of glory,
To die and make seas?

The gods understand
Our fears and failures.
If our anguish lacks,
Then why give us tears
To equal their own?


This was written for the Sammi Cox Weekend Writing Prompt #96 – seashore.  I kind of feel like I waxed a bit poetic, perhaps a bit too far off the deep end, in this one.  Still, I think it could either be very artful or feel naively melodramatic, and I’m willing to take the chance that it’s the first option!

Photo by Emiliano Arano on


bullion gold gold bars golden

I turned the gold bar over in my hand.  That stagecoach never had a chance, and the law wouldn’t know what I’d done ’til it failed to show up at Reno.  I’m an outlaw now, even if I’m the only one that knows.

But that won’t last.  The gunman killed my horse, and the driver released the coach’s horses while I was distracted.  I shot him after, no regrets.

My canteen is now the most valuable thing on earth.


This Sunday, I chose to do the Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt.  This week, the word was ‘Outlaw,’ which reminded me of Tom Darby’s One-Horse Town series.  Inspired by his rich, western scenery, I wrote this little flash set in Nevada.