I posted Quickness last night, which means I need to post Clucky tonight. You can’t just post one and not the other! If you’re interested in joining us, you can find our Facebook group at https://www.facebook.com/groups/214571172638649/ . We’re always looking for more people who want to have fun playing with their pets!
And, while I am on the topic of pets, there’s anther pet game I’ve discovered called Bitty Pals. I have a duck there named Dibble. I’ll get into it another time, though.
Have a your-digital-pet-is-ten-years-old kinda day!
The habi makeover community site is down now. Never fear, that is not the end! The website still works to download the program, and we’ve moved our community to Facebook! That means Clucky, Quickness, and all the little pets are still getting happy new habitats!
In light of that, I thought I’d share some of those happy habitats. this is my pet Quickness, that I took over from Jonathan yeeeeeaaaaarrrrrs ago. As in, back on MySpace. Yeah. That long ago.
To keep this from displaying in an obnoxious way, I’m using the thumbnail grid, but they are worth clicking on and scrolling through at the larger size if you like these kind of things like I do.
And now I am off. Have a turtle-in-a-monster-mask kinda day!
I wrote this for a picture prompt in my street team (Heather takes over on Mondays and posts writing prompts). This was to a photo with a bright golden glow in a dark sky. I think it was really sunset behind dark storm clouds, buuuuuuuut….
Who wants to write that? 😉
The heavy night lay like any other. Crickets chirped in tall grass, frogs sang their symphonies. The girl lay in the graveyard, alone, counting the stars. Little did she know how apropos her location was – not even when the bright ball exploded in the sky; a fire flower blossoming, spreading its petals wide, then wilting to leave behind thick roiling clouds of smoke – smoke laced with the scent of death, the future screams of the dying, the cries of fear as the radiation permeated everything.
But hose moments were still the future and, in those precious seconds before it came to pass, those silent minutes, the girl lay in the grass, surrounded by old tombstones, counting the stars as they exploded behind her blinded eyes, waiting for an end she hadn’t known was coming.
An end to everything
No AR photos because I’m lazy. I have a few to look through, but I’ve been busy getting Tales from the Executioners, Volume Two finished up for publication. I uploaded it today, so I’m just waiting for links to filter through so I can start pushing it on everyone I ever met. Ha ha!
Have a the-book-is-published kinda day!
Today was a special research day. We started in Red Oak, hit Essex, and ended in Shenandoah with a total of 38 stops (and 38 clamperls).
The pokemon group from Red Oak was representing and we has 12 accounts, which was awesome since this time last year hubby and I had just us for PoGo. So grateful to have a community now.
Anyway, blizzard held off until after the event was over but we ran into it on the way home.
But I did get an AR so don’t fear.
And now it’s bed time. Have a shiny clamperl kinda day!
It’s time again for blogophilia, the fun blog group where martien gives participants prompts to use in their weekly blog. This week’s prompts are:
Ecrits Blogophilia Week 39.11 Topic – “That’s an Accident Waiting to Happen”BONUSES:Hard Bonus (2 pts.): Incorporate a lyric from a song that moves you – Time in a BottleEasy Bonus (1 pt): Use the word ‘inconceivable’ three (3) times
There was darkness.
Thick. Black. Complete.
Within it, time stood still, like molasses in wintertime. Hours stretched into days, days to weeks, until she lost track of the minutes, the hours, the days.
Then it happened. Just as all hope had fled, turned as black as the darkness she was lost in, she felt the difference, the soft give of the rope at her wrists.
Yet, when she tried again, there it was. She pulled, tugged, wriggled. The rope shifted, bit into tender skin, then finally slid free.
She forced sore arms to the front and rubbed aching wrists. Trapped in the black, the movement felt foreign, forgotten, and it took her time to get used to it. But time was something she had. Loads of it, trunks fulls, time in a bottle enough to span the universe.
Or it felt that way.
When she’d adjusted, gotten used to the freedom, she bent to find the rope around her ankles. Clumsy fingers fumbled with knots, taking too long, but finally, the bonds fell away and she could mover her legs, roll her ankles, stretch her feet.
Now to stand. To escape.
It was tedious, torture. She used the wall to pull her upright again and again, until at last her feet would hold her, buckling knees locked, trembling legs shaken with the exertion. One foot in front of the other, she shuffled the perimeter until she found the door, situated behind where she’d been tied, so that she couldn’t see it open each day when her captor came to feed her.
He was going to pay – pay for the days she’d wasted, for the time she’d lost, for all the points she’d missed out on…
She threw open the door and lurched out into the familiar office space. There he was, at his desk, feet up, arms behind his head, leaning back in his chair, some ridiculous video playing on his computer screen.
At the sound of her cry, he jumped, swiveled, stared with wide, horrified eyes. “You’re here? Inconceivable! You’re tied up safely in the office supply closet!”
“I was.” She waved her fist as she advanced. “And now I got out, you…you…” But the word didn’t exist to describe his evilness.
“Inconceivable! I tied those knots myself!”
She stopped to glare at him. “I don’t think that means what you think it means. As for your knots, childsplay! And now, Jonathan, I want my missing points!”
Though he tried to look innocent, they both remembered the conversation. Jo had been sitting at her desk, fresh back from vacation, wondering what to write for Blogophilia.
“Do you really need to? You’re already ahead of me.”
“Yes, but I skipped a couple of weeks so you catch up.”
“I’m more behind than that,” he’d muttered. She’d blown it off as sour mumbles, but she should have paid attention. Not half an hour later, he suddenly said, “By the way, have you looked in the office supply closet lately? That stack of multi-colored ink pens is an accident waiting to happen.”
Colored ink pens were her weakness, and he’d known it; known she would go to the door, open it, step in the closet...
That was when he clubbed her with the binder of rejected comic scripts. She’d woken later to find she was tied up, lashed to a support pillar.
If only we hadn’t gone cheap with this basement office space. The upstairs offices don’t have pillars in their closets!
But all that was behind her now, as she began her advance again, pausing only to grab one of the rejected script binders from the stack by Jonathan’s desk. “You’re going to pay for this!”
Jonathan used his feet to wheel his plush office chair back, hands waving for mercy. “But…But I gave you cheesecake every day!”
She stopped, binder inches from his skull. That was true. He had.
“And coffee,” he added hopefully. “With the peppermint mocha creamer. You know that stuff’s limited edition.”
His words pulled a grunt from her, but dissolved some of the anger. In retrospect this was just another insane stunt in a long line of insane stunts. One had to expect these kinds of things when they had an evil twin. She really should be used to it all by now.
“Fine. I won’t kill you. Yet. Now go get me a piece of cheesecake – chocolate this time – and some coffee. Hurry up. Before I change my mind.”
Jonathan sputtered agreement and hurried away toward the office kitchenette. Jo huffed and dropped into the comfy office chair, mentally calculating the points she’d lost, and the blogs she’d missed visiting.
Oh well. At least there was cheesecake.
And that, blogophiliacs, is where I have been.
Now for guesses:
guesses: 1: that’s not Narnia 2: need more shoes 3: dressed for success 4: wardrobe 5: vintage 6: through the looking glass 7: why are kid’s fantasy stories obsessed with bedroom furniture? 8: chiffarobe 9: in the closet (in blog) 10: out of the closet
Hello there. Hopefully wherever you are and however you are, you are at least OK.
Recently I was texting with someone I hadn’t caught up with for more than forty years. You think that makes me old, but it doesn’t. The truth is that I am pressing fifteen in my present emotional growth phase – but vigorously! Anyway for some reason I started to talk e-style about the person who does the covers of my books, Joleene Naylor. I’ve never met Jo, as I call her, though we’ve spoken on the internet once or twice. She’s from the part of the world where I was born, but not brought up – Iowa, and our tracks would have crossed maybe if she had actually been born when I was in some of the spots she cruises effortlessly today.
Jo spent what are described as “formative years” in the town where the…
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It’s time again for blogophilia, the fun blog group where martien gives participants prompts to use in their blog. This week;s prompts are:
Sadly, I am out of short stories to write – the year of shorts is over (boo!) Now I have to edit them all and get them divided into two volumes! (Eek!) Though it may seem like a fantasy in moonlight, I hope to have Volume 1 out by the end of the month. I’m gonna need some major mojo, especially since I’m going to be visiting my friend Amy for two weeks, starting next Thursday. No, I won’t be going to Estes Park, but I will be visiting Blennerhassett Island.
This is one of those “for the points blogs, so here’s a little something I wrote for a challenge this week:
I never go to sleep, but I keep waking up, tattered memories hanging like torn silk in my mind. Disjointed, dismembered, all the important pieces missing. How did I get here? Where was I before? What happened before the darkness took me? I press against my skull, trying to force the shreds of recollection into something, but the picture they create is hazy. Darkness speeding by. Headlight reflecting on a wet road. The music too loud. The phone rings. I look away – The images are replaced with sound; so loud I try to cover my ears to block it. Screaming, crashing, rending. So loud. And then it’s gone and there is only darkness, the darkness that comes with death. thick, black, eternal.
I never go to sleep, but I keep waking up, tattered memories hanging like torn silk in my mind…
And now for guesses.
- in the shade 2. in a row 3. keep you under my wing 4. I’m not good at these 5. shadow 6. line of lions 7. I think they’re lions 8. Lying Lions. 9. or would that be laying lions? 10. I got nothing.