Saturday, July 30, 2016

Short Story based on the Prompt:The Moment you seize to Believe is the Moment:

The Moment you seize to Believe is the moment Margaret was at.  She roller her walker towards me and asked what my name.
 "Patricia," I said. 
"Patty?"  She asked.
"No Patricia."
"Patty?"  She asked a second time.
"No, Patricia."  My voice raising, and my head coming closer to hers.  She smelled of baby powder.  She was smacking Juicy Fruit; probably the closest thing to anything she put in her mouth all day.  She couldn't weigh anything more than ninety pounds.  Her saggy skin was bunched up to hold together her bones.  She reached for a Kleenex and another piece of Juicy Fruit.
"Patricia, huh?" She said.  Finally getting it right that time.  She asked me if she could have my number.
Should I give it?  Should I give it?  I wondered.  Giving a woman with Dementia my number is a decision I could regret.
Alexander Pope was only four and a half feet tall.

Saturday, July 9, 2016

I went to A pioneer History Museum recently

“The freelance writer is a man who is paid per piece or per word or perhaps.” —Robert Benchley

Saturday, July 2, 2016

“A clear sentence is no accident. Very few sentences come out right the first time, or even the third time. If you find that writing is hard, it's because it is hard.” —William K. Zinsser

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