Skip to main content

And, without further ado, the award goes to....

I meant to post this last week, but life (a.k.a.--work, stress, drama, etc) got in the way...

I was invited to participate in a bi-weekly blog event, "Thursday Short Story Slam", hosted by Bluebell Books, here. It's a neat, little challenge that doesn't tax the energies too badly since it isn't like the month-long "write everyday or you fail" kind of blog challenges I've participated in before.

The premise is simple. They provide a photo prompt, every other Thursday, and you provide the short story or poem--- that's it.

It's exciting to see what 100+ people can do with a picture....

This past Thursday, I participated twice-- one poem, here, on my regular blog and one story, here, on my experimental blog that I started recently on a whim (where these whims come from, I'll never know).

Whims are funny things, they spring up at the strangest times and in the strangest ways...and sometimes they pay off in the strangest forms.

My little story, surprisingly won me last week's author tribute! Apparently, Humphrey's Typewriter, here, intrigued someone out there :-)

So, I offer a big Thank You! to Bluebell Books for hosting Thursday Short Story Slam... and an even bigger Thank You! for selecting my little story as last Thursday's tribute piece!


  1. Congratulations and Happy 4th of July!!

  2. Thanks! Happy 4th to you as well... :-)

  3. Congrats on the award -- strong voice in that piece; nicely done.

  4. Congratulations on the selection! Very cool!


Post a Comment

Share your thoughts!

Popular posts from this blog

Y is for Yeth Hound.....

Yeth Hound--- one of the incarnations of the "Black Dog" myth, this one located specifically, in Devon, England.

"Black Dogs" appear in myths across the world, most are associated with death and bad omens... i.e. Hell Hounds.

The Yeth Hound is said to be the spirit of an unbaptised child that takes the form of a headless black dog. The Hound wanders the woods at night making pitiful wailing sounds (though, I'm unclear as to how it makes wailing sounds without having a head).

The Black Dogs were possibly one inspiration from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's ghost dog in The Hound of the Baskervilles-- "an enormous coal-black hound, but not such a hound as mortal eyes have ever seen."

Heed Not, the Lonesome Cry
Heed not, the lonesome cry, the baleful wail echoing through the woods. Seek not, the black hound's sigh, look not where the headless creature stood.
One sound, your limbs will shake, your heart filled with the deepest dread. One glimpse, your sou…

I is for...

... Iron Maiden

The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins? ---Edgar Allan Poe

---and not the English heavy metal band from East London...

Day 2 in the realm of morbid/macabre torture devices finds us back in the Middle Ages (there was definitely a fashionable trend of imaginative torture devices during this time). Though, the Middle Ages isn't really when we should be turning our attention when we discuss the Iron Maiden. In fact, there has been some debate as to the exact appearance of this monstrous creation.

It's probably easiest to relocate such a torturous thing back to a time when it seemed everyone was as skilled at exacting a confession as they were at creating the tools to exact those confessions. It's easier to blame ancestors from several hundred years ago than to accept that anyone of civilized disposition would be capable of doing such horrible things with such terrif…

Scottish Festival and a bit of poetry...

The 38th annual Arkansas Scottish Festival was held at Lyon College in Batesville, Arkansas on April 7th - April 9th. This was the first time I'd ever attended. I'm sad to say I didn't even know the festival existed until last year. On Saturday, April 8th, a group of friends and I made the several-hour trek, determined to enjoy everything we could.
The weather was glorious, all bright, bonnie sunlight and mild temperatures. Seemed mother nature approved of the festivities. The campus was appropriately kitted out, and nearly everyone in attendance was properly *ahem* kilted out. 
Bagpipes playing, we ate meat pies--- well, mine was a 5-cheese mac & cheese pie--- watched clans parade their colors, got sunburned (darn our fair, Celtic skin), and wanted the day to last forever.
There were a host of competitions, everything from Scottish/Irish dance-offs, sheep dog trials, Tartan races, a Celtic poetry competition, piping and drum trials, even a bonniest knees competition (…