Just came home and checked email to find out my story won this week’s Tuesday Tales! Thanks go to our guest judge for the week Miranda Kate (@PurpleQueenNL) and as always to Stevie McCoy (@Theglitterlady) who puts this together every week. And as a bonus this week Miranda Kate picked 4 honorable mentions instead of the usual 3.
I shall do a little happy dance now. Then go for a pointe shoe fitting. No, not on me – it’s my crazy kids!
This Week’s Word: Concoct
Concoct: to make by combining different ingredients to invent; make up; contrive
Come join the fun of Tuesday Tales. You’ve got 100 words, a photo to inspire you, and a word that must be included. I’ve added mine – how about you?
Bet you thought I meant my real list didn’t you? Nope! I mean my little Twitter fiction piece that will be published this coming Friday – June 1 by Cuento Magazine (@CuentoMag) on Twitter.
Never heard of Twitter fiction before? Well take 140 characters – or less if you need to fit your Twitter handle into the piece – and write a poem or prose story. I find it to be great practice in brevity of thought.
Some Twitter fiction publishers post on their websites -
While Others go straight to Twitter
Inspired? Give it a go!
But before Friday comes make sure you’re following me (@sammyjwebb) and Cuento Magazine (@CuentoMag).
See you in the Twitterverse!
Claiming victory for my Story a Day today and it’s again doing double duty as my Thursday Threads piece. This week’s sentence to tie our stories together: ” It was so long ago, but the memories hadn’t faded.”
I went back every fall to see the place where she died. It was so long ago, but the memories hadn’t faded, at least not for me.
The water was low this year and I could see the rocks at the bottom of the stream bed. Sharp, gashing rocks where she had bled to death.
My throat closed up and I started shaking as flashes of the scene rushed in. The auburn hair, half matted with blood and yet still floating in a cloud around her unblemished face, the wound hidden beneath. Her schoolbag laying on the ground along with her flute case, as if she’d stopped for a moment to look at something.
I grimaced and unclenched my hand. The rose and the few bits of my blood it had claimed arced out of my hand and were soon carried away by the swift current. Fitting that our blood should be forever mingled that way. After all, she’d died instead of me.
Ever the big sister, Mary Jean had offered to talk to my boyfriend for me. Help him see that we should break up. They couldn’t prove he’d killed her but I’d known and after fifteen years I’d finally gotten our revenge.
“You can rest in peace now. Car accident, at least that’s what the police report said.”