Let Me Tell You A Tale… Wk #1. “It Was The First Time I Killed A Man”#amwriting #crimefiction #thriller

Kim Knight_ The Author

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You voted for the writing prompt “it was the first time I killed a man”so Didi and I responded. This is OVER 18 READING!  The prompt was both of our favourite, so thank you! We’ve had a ball, remember we never discuss the way the story should go. Author A writes her part and hands it to author B to finish. I just wanna say, I personally am so happy my path has crossed with Didi. I enjoyed her novel Aggravated Momentum and she is an excellent thriller and suspense writer.  I hope we are life long practice writing buddies to perfect our craft in our genre no matter where our careers take us. What caught our attention over each other’s suspense novels? The writing style! LOL.  Can you guess who wrote what? Comments and feedback welcome!

One thing Didi and I love are strong women…

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Do You Know Tom?

There are a few blogs I have followed for quite sometime that I thought I would do a little spotlight post on one of them.

I’m not sure if you folks have ever me Tom over at Tom Slatin.com, but his work is so cool.  I never claim to be any type of artist because when I see photographers like Tom it reminds me that I am, at best, an amateur.   I’ve know Tom for a couple years now and his work keeps getting better and better.  Several members of my family love his short stories too so be sure to check those out.   I know quite a few folk follow him on Twitter so here’s the link if you are interested.

The following is an excerpt from his writing notebook, dated April 3, 2017.

Sometimes I wish that I were an open book so that if by some chance, I might be understood, cherished, or admired, though thankfully in reality I’m not an open book. There’s something beautiful about being mysterious. I tend to keep my thoughts and feelings bottled up inside, posting some of my better thoughts and ideas on my blog, perhaps as evidence of sorts to support my claims of high intelligence. My anxiety and depression comes when too many people read it, or when I don’t get the reaction I was seeking. I regret sharing some things, though trivial and unimportant for fear of being judged.

 

Be sure to swing by and say hello to Tom.  Tell him Danny sent ya!!

Today’s Featured Blog is…Erichmichaels!

Erichmichaels!!

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Father’s Day. He always started off the week leading up to Father’s Day coming up with all the possible excuses not to visit his father. A presentation that needed tweaking, a new romance that needed coaxing…something. However, when it came right down to it, he always made the trip; this year would be no exception. He sat on the edge of the hotel bed, staring at his hands, thinking about how different he and his father were. He slowly rotated his hands around looking at the well manicured nature of them, the pushed back cuticles, the perfectly trimmed nails and the buttery, softness of his hands, and he felt acutely ashamed. He clenched his fists, feeling his trimmed nails bite into his palms. He would wait until dark to make the trip, so there would be less chance of other visitors.

A few hours later, he walks out of the…

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The sound of his steps…

Cyranny’s Cove!

Cyranny's cove

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Curled up under the warm duvet, she fought sleep a little longer. She liked to let her thoughts wander before she lost control of them for the night. She revisited the day past, and  her mind focused on the sound of his steps earlier that afternoon…

– Oh yeah, I’ve been told before.. I’m a heavy walker, you know!

That thought seemed to amuse him, and he laughed heartedly as they kept going along the path in the woods. She blushed a little, embarassed to have mentionned something that now looked somewhat silly, just not to her.

She, herself had a stealth walk. Her feet never made noise when they touched the ground and people often criticized her for it.

“Ah!! I didn’t hear you coming! Stop scaring me like this! You always arrive like a mouse!!!”

She sometimes wished she had the confident walk of those high heeled women…

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In the dark…

This is Cyranny’s Cove!

Cyranny's cove

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The vibration of the cellphone in her purse had gotten her attention as she was walking down the subway station stairs.

Where are you?

She simply turned it off. There was the temptation to write back something snippy like that saying she had seen online… “Don’t push me away and then wonder where I went” but it just wasn’t worth it.


He had invited her for their weekly one on one dinner. He enjoyed cooking, but hated having to eat the same thing three or four days in a row when he cooked for himself. As usual, they had enjoyed a real feast she had been looking forward to all week, and now they were resting on the large couches, listening to his latest choice of music.

It seemed they had known each other for ever. But it had been only a couple of months, since she had moved in…

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The Day My Life Changed

This is MSnubutterflies!!

MSnubutterflies

It was a normal day. Rushing to get the kids off to school and get ready for the work day. Feed the dogs. The usual stuff or so I thought. I didn’t feel good that morning. Which I guess should have been a clue. I hadn’t had so much as a cold in years. That’s exactly how I felt though like I was catching a cold. No biggie life keeps going right! I remember having a little time to relax because I was working later that day and thought a cup of tea might help.

I became very fatigued. I thought oh please don’t let this be the flu. I don’t have time for this with the kids and I was a retail manager and it’s October. As I went to leave for work my left leg was so heavy. It was like sandbags were tied to my ankle. My eye…

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A new year’s limerick…

This is A Hansen Chronicle!!

A Hansen Chronicle

These twelve months weren’t easy to handle

From obits to fake news to scandal

One thing that’s clear

Is we *need* a new year

We’ve had about all we can standle!

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Big River

This is Ann Cavitt Fisher!!

Ann Cavitt Fisher

The Mississippi River at New Orleans, looking toward the GNO bridge. Photograph by Ann Fisher

Your eyes remind me of my river in the late afternoon,

Sun-golden and warm.

I once said so and you smiled.

I am alone now.

When the light of the setting sun hits his currents,

The river-god speaks to me, his child, voice low.

I bend forward, close over him,

My hands on his surface, feeling him move beneath me.

Forever I carry his sighs.

The visits back to New Orleans have been wonderful. This is for my Mississippi — amazing river that you are, Ann.

A trio of posts inspired by my recent visits begin here with To Miss New Orleans, about an old journalist who inspired my great love of the city.

I took this photograph on the bank of the Mississippi in the morning (we work with what we have :-)), looking towards the GNO bridge.

Copyright 1991 and 2016, Ann Fisher. All rights reserved.

The Mississippi River at New Orleans, looking toward the GNO bridge. Photograph by Ann Fisher The Mississippi River at New Orleans, looking…

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The Fox and the Grapes

fox-and-grapes-with-sigA Fox one day spied a beautiful bunch of ripe grapes hanging from a vine trained along the branches of a tree. The grapes seemed ready to burst with juice, and the Fox’s mouth watered as he gazed longingly at them.

The bunch hung from a high branch, and the Fox had to jump for it. The first time he jumped he missed it by a long way. So he walked off a short distance and took a running leap at it, only to fall short once more. Again and again he tried, but in vain.

Now he sat down and looked at the grapes in disgust.

“What a fool I am,” he said. “Here I am wearing myself out to get a bunch of sour grapes that are not worth gaping for.”

And off he walked very, very scornfully.

There are many who pretend to despise and belittle that which is beyond their reach.

**presented by The Library of Congress