Flash Fiction Friday: Anika Flubs It

Welcome back Readers, Writers, and Friends,

It is a wet day in the desert! And I am so profoundly grateful for it. The forests up north and the reservoirs everywhere need a good soaking. I feel for anyone being flooded out right now, and I hope it ends up being nothing more than an insurance claim and some inconvenience, but we need this water!

As it is Friday, I will sit in my office with a cup of my newest obsession, nutella (the kind made by choczero with none of the sugar) hot chocolate, and tap out a little something inspired by the prompts of the day. I may also go to a movie later since all my babies are in school. Or I might just take a nap. I need a nap. What were we talking about again?

Oh yes, fiction, prompts, that sort of thing. Well, this week’s prompts from The Storymatic are: first day on the job, a warning is ignored

These are not the beautiful yellow roses my husband brought me the other day, but they are close.
Photo by Jeff Wang on Pexels.com

A good informant is quick on their feet, good at getting people to talk, and tough as nails. Nelly McCormick was none of those things. What she had to recommend her to the agent who hired her was the flaming red hair and hourglass figure that mob boss Lawrence Michael Kelly Jr. (Kelly jr. to most folks) couldn’t resist. He was between girlfriends at the moment and Nelly made the perfect lure.

Nelly was also a perfect candidate because she was desperate for the money, money she needed to…

Ok friends, you see here I tried. I was trying. But I can’t do this today. The depression has swung manic on me and I am too tired (while agitated, while sad, while scared for no reason–it’s a lot) to do this properly. I keep thinking I can force myself to do this, I can just push myself over the hump.

So here’s the deal, take prompts and/or the start I made and do whatever you want with them on this lovely Friday. Hopefully a restful weekend, lots of sleep, and maybe a little steak on Sunday will find me ready to go at this again next week.

Until then all my love.



Poetry Piazza: Anxiety

I like poetry. And I often write little bits of verse when occupying waiting areas or driving from place to place as moms are wont to do. I haven’t done it as frequently of late as I would like, but when I shine up a bit of meter and rhyme I think I will just start putting them here.

This poem, as the title may have indicated, is not cheery or funny. It is an expression of something that has accompanied my life more than I can say over the last seven years. No fanfare or introduction need for: Anxiety

Want to hide

Sky too wide

Swallowing my breath before I can breathe it

I fear each intake as much as the lack

Crave safe space

A slower pace

Longing to linger on small moments

And shed the rush that is shattering my sanity

Curl up tight

Snug at night

No longer primed for fight or flight

But repose lies just beyond the frantic rate of my heart beat

Can’t slow down

World goes round

Urging me to lean into the fear

Until I can believe that the future is home free