A few days ago, the daily prompt was Unmoored. Really? Who uses that word in a novel unless they are writing about ships. I don’t write about ships.
My thoughts were Adrift.
So I decided to Catapult a thinking cap on my head.
And guess what? Nothing happened. Nada. Zip. Niente.
So I have nothing to post.
You kicked ass as James Bond. Now, it’s time to rest.
Roger Moore died today. He was 89.
At some point during the evening, Sadie had removed every stitch of her nightclothes. I turned away while she threw on a blue peignoir.
As we Descended the stairs together, I secretly wondered what it would be like to sway my hips down a staircase, to have men ogle at me with carnal designs. To have a body like Sadie’s. Only curiosity, of course. I often pictured myself in alternative scenarios—a famous writer, a composer, a student of nature and all living things. And, of recent, I pondered working as an advocate for women’s rights.
The kitchen abuzz with chatter, I took a seat next to Sadie.
“So you worked up an appetite did you, Sassy Sarah?” Miss Fannie grinned.
“Yep, sure did.”
Miss Reba refilled Sassy Sarah’s coffee cup. “Sounds like Lawrence P. came last night.”
Sassy flipped her red hair to the side. “He came alright. And came and came.”
While everyone laughed, I felt the heat of my cheeks and turned my head.
Excerpt from The Last Bordello
Daily Prompt: Descend
As of yesterday, I’m a grandmother again! So much joy and love in this world!
by CD-W
Madam Fannie Porter
Sadie threw her hands over her ears and rocked back and forth. “Just no jail, no jail, no jail …”
When tears tumbled down Sadie’s cheeks, I caught Louis’s look of compassion—the same as Meta’s, the same as Reba’s. The same as mine.
“I won’t let you go to jail, Sadie. That’s what this is all about,” John said, his voice softer. “But you need to do what we suggest. I have a plan. But we have to find you a hide-away, some place safe other than here.”
Silence slithered around the frank, yet well-meaning posse while the irony struck me as funny. Over the years, the surrounding walls had safely protected politicians, successful businessmen, and Notorious train robbers. Now, they weren’t strong enough to protect my hard working and best girl who felt more like kin.
Reba thumped the settee’s armrest gathering our attention. “Fannie, what we ain’t gonna do is snap a fine branch off this family tree and throw it to the fire. If she gotta leave, it better be a damn good place so’s she can come home when time’s right.”
A moment passed and I felt the soft squeeze of Meta’s hand.
“I might know a place,” she said.
Excerpt from The Last Bordello
Daily Word Prompt: Notorious
The hail
ripped through my okra,
oh what a storm,
the cucumbers, too
but the onions survived
and so did the corn!
I painted this from a photo I took while in the meat-packing district in New York City. It was an Abercrombie and Fitch ad. So, I aptly call this painting, “Meat Packing”.
A Farce of nature.
“A Man in Italy”
I stand here,
waiting,
hoping you will forgive me.
Berating, debating
This feeling, castrating.
(words and painting by CD-W)
Do you see me?
Truly see me?
Through this canvas, through this paint?
Of course I posed,
And then I smiled,
But, dear, I am no saint.
(poem and art by my CD-W)
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 