Twittering Tales #7 – 6 December 2016

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About the challenge:  Each Tuesday I will provide a prompt, and your mission, if you choose to play along, is to tell a story based on that prompt in 140 characters or less.

If you accept the challenge, be sure to let me know in the comments with a link to your tale. A final note: if you need help tracking the number of characters in your story, there is a nifty online tool that will count for you at charactercountonline.com.

I will do a roundup each Tuesday, along with providing us a new prompt.

Have Fun! 🙂

Here are the results for Twittering Tales #6 based on this photograph from last week. We have some new folks joining the fun!

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“Rosé” by cyclonebill from Copenhagen, Denmark at Wikimedia Commons.

*From Kiwinana (Elsie Hagley) from Ramblings of a Writer:

Sitting by the fire watching the glow on my nearly empty glass I clicked into wonderland sure I saw a fairy dancing in the red sea of glory.
(140 Characters)

*From Michael at summerstommy.com:

It can’t be a chardonnay, its red.

No it’s a new grape variety, red wine chardonnay.

Taste it and see.

Well its different.

Hmm you got any more?
(140 characters)

*From Kathryn, anotherfoodieblogger:

I was offered a taste of new wine at the bar from a stranger. Little did I know it was a roofie, dammit! Where am I and where are my shoes?
(139 Characters)

*From Irena at Books and Hot Tea:

She poured him wine. Her glass was already full, with a liquid too dark and thick. He failed to notice that, or the fangs beneath her lips.
(139 characters)

*From Pat at Black Cat Alley:

A new wine, hailed as exceptional – raspberry sweet, peppery bite, bargain priced. Few tasted its dirtiness, the grapes stomped by goats. ©Pat Palazy/ wordwitch88@Black Cat Alley 2016∞
(130 Characters)

*My take:

After an hour Sue realized she’d been stood up. She ordered more wine, noticing an attractive stranger at the bar. “You’ll do,” she thought.
(140 Characters)

*And finally from Willowdot21 (I think she may have thought the challenge was 140 words, but I loved her story so much I can’t not include it in the roundup!)

The  light played upon  the  glass  reflecting  the  windows of  the bar.The  barman  watched  the  woman in  the  red  dress silently  fondling  her glass. Something about  her   grabbed  his  interest.

As  the  evening  progressed  he  found  he  was  becoming  obsessed with  her, her figure, her  hair, her  lips  and  her  eyes. She  was sex  personified  and  she  was making him hungry, he could  feel  her  body  calling  him,he  was  growing hard  and  so distracted.   It was  becoming  impossible  to  concentrate, all he could  see  was her breasts  rising  and  falling  as  she  breathed.

Eventually he  could  take  no more  he vaulted  the bar  and  made  straight  for her. As he  approached  she  turned  and  smiled  at  him her  eyes  like ice cooled pools .”Hi”he  said  “my  name is  Tom”, “Hello  sexy  mine name is  James” was  the husky  reply.

Thanks to everyone who played last week! If I somehow missed your entry, please let me know so I can add it to the roundup.

See this week’s prompt photo below:

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Twittering Tales #7 – 6 December 2016

He found the journal in her dresser. As he read the words she wrote about “him” his heart broke. He wondered, “Should I tell them I know?”

kat – 6 December 2016
(139 Characters)


Magnetic Poetry Monday

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A woman’s heart remembers things
she is willing to see the good and
forgive you when you are a fool
but do not lie to her or you’ll
bring out her ferocious side!

Kat ~ 5 December 2016
(Magnet Poetry Poet’s Kit)


Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 4 December 2016


I really do believe the last line in this week’s Shi Sai. Nothing compares to love. Love is quite complex. As the song says, “It is a many splendored thing”. Love is a big deal. As I consider love, and my own personal calling to be more loving in this challenging time, I realize that the dysfunctional reality of family of ours as a “united nation” is no longer something we can hide or hide from.

There are several types of love I discovered when I did a bit of research. The ancient Greeks gave us several types of love to consider:

Eros (sexual passion or desire, considered by some to be dangerous or irrational),

Philia (deep friendship, a more highly prized type of love and also equated with a term called storge which is associated with the love parents have for their children), 

Ludus (playful love or affection between children or young love, associated with flirting and and also fun between friends, joking and dancing), 

Agape (love for everyone, the most radical love of all associated with selflessness and charity), 

Pragma (longstanding love, considered a mature love that is exemplified by long-married couples who have perfected the art of patience, tolerance and compromise) and

Philautia (self-love and compassion – Aristotle described philautia thusly: “All friendly feelings for others are an extension of a man’s feelings for himself.”)

So what does all this mean? Most importantly, what does it mean for me personally, especially when I am hurt or beset with conflict, can I still I declare in all sincerity “love overcomes hate”?

The truth is that I have the capacity for each of these types of love. If I truly believe in the power of love, deepening my understanding of each nuance, each facet, equips me to respond when I am struggling. i have the ability to grow as a person when i am willing to see where I am lacking. The Greeks have created a wonderful roadmap and I know of another too…

1 Corinthians 13
English Standard Version (ESV)

13-If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. 2-And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3-If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned,[a] but have not love, I gain nothing.

4-Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant 5-or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful;[b] 6-it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. 7-Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

8-Love never ends. As for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. 9-For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10-but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away.11-When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I gave up childish ways. 12-For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.

13-So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

Yep, I really do believe the last line of this Shi Sai. Be kind to one another this week. Love and peace to you.

Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 4 December 2016

all woman-girls who recall
frosted roses fade
it’s where dreams are born
“You’ll do,” she thought.
I remember a flood
fallout from Faustian pacts…
Your fruits have been many but you have lost yourself and are fading as we speak
nothing compares to love

~kat


love is all

For this week’s Magnetic Poetry Saturday Challenge by Elusive Trope’s of Specks and Fragments.

love is all.png

keep your heart open to
the promise of love
for it is the truest
emotion you can know…
nothing compares to love

kat ~ 3 December 2016
(Magnetic Poetry the Love Kit)


Corabelle and the Enchanted Tree

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This is the story of a very good girl named Corabelle. She was the most perfect daughter, sister and friend that a body could wish for. If ever anyone needed something, Corabelle was the first person they called, for she was exceedingly loyal and giving. To a fault, some might say, but it made her happy to serve. When others were happy, Corabelle was happy.

And so it went for years and years, until the day poor Corabelle found herself in need. A life of serving without stopping to care for herself had taken its toll. She cried for help to no avail.

“Who are you?” her friends and family all said, “I’m much too busy to help you today.”

After being rejected by nearly everyone she knew Corabelle was beginning to wonder too. “Who are you?” she asked herself. In her current state, with nothing to give, she felt useless.

She noticed an old woman carrying a bundle and begged her, “Please ma’am, I have no money to pay you, but I am so tired and hungry. Is there something you can spare, a bit of bread or fruit perhaps?”

“Oh dear girl, as you can see, I have nothing but these rags to keep the wind from nipping my weary bones, but I know a tree that grows at the edge of town. You will recognize it because it has no leaves, but one of every variety of fruit grows from its red branches.”

“How can that be? I’ve never heard of such a tree.”

“Oh, but you have. You yourself are like that tree. You have spent your life giving, being all things to all people. Your fruits have been many but you have lost yourself and are fading as we speak.”

“How do you know this?” Corabelle queried.

“The tree sent me to tell you. It heard your question.”

“My question?  Who are you?”

That is the question, “Who are you?” the old woman replied.

Corabelle thought it strange, but she was intrigued. “I should like to meet this tree,“  she said.

“Very well,” the old woman answered, pointing the way.

When Corabelle saw the tree, she was filled with deep compassion. It looked so overburdened with fruits of every kind hanging from its limbs. Just as the old woman said, it reminded her of herself. “What kind of tree are you?” Corabelle asked.

“I don’t know,” sighed the tree, “I don’t even know if I am a tree, or a vine, or a bush. If someone wished for an apple, I became a tree, or if another wanted a grape I became a vine. As you can see, I am twisted and wilting away to nothing, except for these heavy fruits clinging to my bare branches. And worst of all, no one wants my fruit anymore.”

“Well, I certainly do! I would love a piece of your fruit if you don’t mind!” Corabelle reached for the apple and snapped it from the tree.

In an instant, the other fruit fell from the branches and leaves sprouted every which way where there had been none. “Thank you Corabelle!” the tree exclaimed,”I remember who and what I am now. I am a tree, an apple tree to be exact.”

Corabelle smiled happily, taking a bite of the apple. For the first time in her life she felt what it was like to receive. It felt good. Not as good as giving, but very good indeed.

kat ~ 2 December 2016

A bit out of practice doing micro…so longer, but hopefully intriguing enough to keep one’s attention. This is my entry for Jane Dougherty’s Microfiction Challenge this week based on the illustration by Virginia Frances Sterret that you see above. Happy Friday to you.