Thursday photo prompt – Green#writephoto



I grew up in the Valley of the Amazons surrounded by strong, beautiful and wise women.  I learned to be fleet of foot, strong of arm and to make wise choices.  I loved the women who raised me and my childhood was happy but there was always a dark cloud that loomed in the background.  The women told me the day would come when I would need to leave the security of the Valley and follow the River of Life to the Tunnels of Choice.  I would need to choose to take either the Tunnel of Self Reliance & Loneliness or the Tunnel of Love & Dependence.

So here I stand this day at the mouth of the tunnels ready to make this choice.  Good thing I brought this pick along with me.  Because all the days of my life I will chip away at the wall that separates my choices.

This is written in response to Sue Vincent’s prompt and for all the daughters of Amazons who continue to chip away at the wall.

Thursday photo prompt – Green#writephoto,





Wendy surveyed the room.  Her eyes wandered fondly over the toys.  Wendy had kept the room just as it was when Peter would visit and such merry times abounded.  John Darling would ride the horse and swing his sword leading the charge to Hook’s pirate ship.  Little Michael would toddle behind pushing his horse crying out for the Lost Boys to join the battle.  Wendy’s dolls wait patiently in their sweet bassinet for Peter’s return.  They  longed for Tinker Bell to once again sprinkle fairy dust and so they could magically take to the air and fly.  And there on the wall is the clock.  The keeper of that enchanted time stopped and never chimed again the day we Darling children decided to grow up.

Oh to return to Neverland once more is Wendy’s secret wish.  But she knows that it is not to be.  She is an old woman now with grandchildren.  But she muses, if the grandchildren come for a visit and sleep in her old rooms, maybe just maybe…..

This is written in response to Sue Vincent’s photo prompt,



When the terrorist attack came I was in Atlanta on business.  The city shut down in a mess of fear and confusion.  The next day the Peabody started to clean up the glass and cover up the gaping holes.  The injured and the dead were removed.  Everyone noted a strange smell.  It had a dry, moldy scent reminiscent of Spanish Moss gone rotten.   No one could identify its source.

A few days later the evening news reported an increase in the amount of Spanish Moss on the trees and that it had taken hold on the ground and was strangling everything in its path.  Within a week the Spanish Moss had become an epidemic.  It was strangling all greenery and fowling waterways.  It spread in a frighteningly mechanical manner from state to state.  Despite global bans on travel and close inspection, it somehow attached itself to travelers and became a world wide problem.

Food and water became scarce and eventually bedlam ensued with killing and pillaging and hoarding the order of the day.

My time on this planet started to draw to a close.  So I set out on foot to home, South Carolina.  I determined to see if anyone was still alive on Daufuskie.

And this is what I found – the tragic beauty and remnants of a carefree time when people sat on the beach and brought baskets filled with fried chicken and lemonade.  The moss was making its inexorable approach and nothing would stop it.

This is written in response to Sue Vincent’s photo prompt,




This is always my favorite part of the day, when the world is quiet and asleep.  I poured myself a cup of coffee and took it out to the porch to watch the sunrise.  I have done this thousands of times and the ghosts of summers pasts accompanied me.  Some of those ghosts were not welcome guests.  They reminded me of my shortcomings and mistakes.  And, some of those ghosts were welcome friends reminding me of my younger self, my children when they were little, and the friends who have come and stayed with us at the summerhouse over the many summers.

The birds soon awoke and starting calling out to each other and I was reminded of an old hymn, “This is the day that the Lord has made.  We will rejoice and be glad in it.”  I silently thanked the Creator for the message and started my day.

This is written in response to Sue Vincent’s photo prompt,







I floated mutely

in the dark,

until I reached

the holy mark.

Alone and dying

in the park,

I sang my song

in the dark.

References in classical literature include the belief that upon death the otherwise-silent mute swan would sing beautifully—hence the phrase swan song.


This is written in response to Sue Vincent’s photo prompt,






I got the telephone call on a day that the whole country had been thrown into confusion.  Mom, please come get me.  I want to come home.

The horror that hit the country caused all flights to be cancelled.  Half of the country lie between my son and me.  How to get there, how to reach him, how to answer the call.

Three days passed filled with frantic waiting and at last I was on a flight to New Orleans.  I rented a car and he met me at the airport.

We drove and drove across our magnificent country.  We ate smelly fast food, we listened to each other’s music, we laughed and avoided talking about what caused our estrangement. Finally early one morning, with the golden sun in our eyes, the end of our long drive home was in sight as was the beginning of the last year of his life.

Thanks for taking the time to read,


This is written in response to Sue Vincent’s photo prompt,




People call me crazy.  I have searched these red rocks for years. My Annabelle, she gave up on me and went off with that banker feller.  Someday I will fill that bank with gold.  I know the tale of the Lost Dutchman is true.  I have spent my entire life searching this Superstition Mountain.

People call me crazy.  It has been a lonely life but I will have the last laugh when I find that mine.  I will ride into to town and the women will fight to keep me company and the men will buy me drinks and want to be my friend.  But they are all too late, I know they all call me crazy Bill.  

People call me crazy but the lonely Apache swore it was true. Damn shame he  refused to give up his secrets.  Felt bad that I had to kill him.  It gets real lonely out here at times but you can only have one winner in this game.

People call me crazy but I know its here. Look at that gold gleaming so bright it lights up the sky.   Tomorrow is the day.  I can feel it in my bones.  Surely this is a sign that my pick will strike gold.

This is written in response to Sue Vincent’s prompt.  This prompt can be found at her blog Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo,

Thanks for taking the time to read,