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Agility not required.
(Thank you, Pixabay, for the free cute monkey image. I made him pay for the book)
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This Moment is for You
I just want to take a moment to thank you, all my blogging buds, for the time you have spent looking at my posts and for following me. For a writer, there is no greater compliment. (I know I ramble about all kinds of things)
I also thank you for your postings. They make me laugh, cry, think, learn, and fill me with inspiration. Looking forward to more!
—Carolyn D-W
—also known as Me-Maw 
UNHINGED
There she was, the unbuttoned girl who didn’t know right from wrong, who always took the path over thorny ground. Demented in heart and void of conscious. Squeezing the life out of my bordello one person at a time until she did it to herself.
And I never saw it coming. Never saw her falling into the depths of insanity. I did what needed doing. I protected my business. I had her transported to Southwestern Insane Asylum and never told a soul except Reba. And not once did I visit her.
I made a pact with myself. No regrets for what I was about to do.
Excerpt from The Last Bordello
Daily word prompt: Thorny
photo credit
A Power Punch of Memories
Some say it’s peculiar that I remember so much of my first few years of life. But things like the burning of a hand, or the birth of a little sister, stay with you forever. I remember helping to pin Delma’s cloth diapers around her butt, and, later, pulling her toes to make them pop. I’d smile and say, “They ain’t long enough yet, Sis. I’m gonna he’p ’em grow.”
I remember putting a pot on my head to make Delma laugh when I thought she was dying.
And that pocket knife Ike gave me when I was two? It came in real handy in first grade.
This train has its rhythm going now and the passengers have settled in. Most are trying to sleep just to make the time pass. I lay my head up against the hard window and watch as San Antone starts to slowly slip by. I close my eyes to see if I can nod off like everybody else, but it’s only an idea. Sleep is knocked out by that presence in the seat next to me. More memories keep nudging me, crowding me up against the ropes, where none of my boxing defense skills seem to work. No, these are stronger opponents. They jab my chin, then power punch me in the gut. It’s more painful than a broken nose. They make me remember.
Excerpt from No Hill for a Stepper by C. Dennis-Willingham
Daily word prompt: Peculiar
Opium for a price
The opium she was soon to inhale would taste much better than Greta’s fattening candy.
Fifteen minutes later, exactly where she wanted to be, Ben grinned and escorted her inside his Substandard establishment.
His eyes had dark circles beneath them but his crooked smile remained the same. “You got money today?”
“Half of it. Thought we could work something out.” When she winked, his smile widened.
“Okay, half. A blowjob then?” He took the money she pulled from her cleavage.
Sofie let loose her best seductive smile. After all, she did need to save her money. “I think we may be on to something.” She reached down and yanked off her boots. It was time to get comfortable. “One bowl first.”
“Coming right up.” Ben looked down at his crotch and laughed.
Excerpt from Naked, She Lies, a novel by C. Dennis-Willingham
daily word prompt: Substandard
What Grandma Says
(I left out some pictures to tickle your imagination)
Grandma says she visits Mollybird land.
But Grandma is silly.
She plays in the sand.
She hops in a chair,
I see her eyes glisten
She tells me to sit down
and carefully listen.
“There’s a place,” she says, “where
popsicles grow sideways,
where Lollipop trees
sprout only on Sundays.
Where cows milk the garden
The doggy yells, ‘Moo,’
And the carrot pops up
and says, ‘Howdy Do!’
The dragon blows fire
to light up the coals
so miniture rhinos
can climb from their holes.
At lunchtime,
oh, we’re too busy to eat.
We paint with the squirrels
and then take our seats.
We sit by the ocean
and blow seahorse bubbles
Our thoughts disappear
but our vision, it doubles!
If Tina the Tiger finds you,
don’t worry.
She’ll tickle you fast
then run off in a hurry!
Old Peter Parrot
doesn’t like peace and quiet
He prefers to squawk loudly
and dress like a pirate.
Then, when it’s time,
the Queen steps on her chair,
and the bicycling frog
is the first to be there.
Everyone cheers
and why would they not?
She makes them remember
the fun they forgot.
Now, if you don’t believe me,
of course it’s just fine.
But my unicorn’s here
and I must leave on time.
How I get home?
It’s the best thing, no doubt!
Oh, don’t forget.
If you whistle real loud.
My silly hippo
will float down from the clouds.”
I take hold of the whistle.
I blow super hard.
A hippo? Really?
Will land in her yard?
© Carolyn Dennis-Willingham, CDW Creations
Lollipop- daily word prompt
Ain’t no room for belly achin’
Cono’s Ma and Pa
The windows are open and the summer breeze floats across my bed like a puff of air that puckers and ends up whistling out a happy tune. Anything bad that might have happened during the day has been blown on through. I hear the sound of the train chugging by ever so often. The kaPluck, kaplunk of the oil wells pump like they’re helping to push the blood through my veins. That’s when I start to get sleepy.
And when I hear that nicker that Polo makes? I know I’m almost out like Lottie’s eye. Tomorrow, I’ll ride him like a wild Indian.
The morning shows up and knocks on my window like a redbird pecking at his own reflection and I know that Pa has already put in a half of days of work. Pa’s a real good man and a real good farmer. Gallasses help to hold up his pants, since he got ruptured on a bucking horse early on. Pa said, “That horse swallered his head n’all. I must’a had the reins too tight.” Pa keeps going like nothing ever happened. He doesn’t believe in “bellyaching.” He says, “Thar ain’t no room fer it.” The sound of no bellyaching is music to my ears. That’s one thing I’m glad there ain’t no room for.
Excerpt from No Hill for a Stepper
Pluck- daily word prompt
The Red Bordello Door-To Enter Or Not?
If you choose to go inside…
Madam Fannie Porter will answer your knock, her head tilted back and a hand on her protruded hip. If you are a customer, she’ll first point out her list of rules and if you don’t follow them, the ratchet of a shotgun will show you the way out.
Then, she’ll point to one of her soiled doves –Chubby Greta from west Texas with her big brown eyes and no nonsense attitude; timid Lillie who grins but rarely exposes the gap where her tooth had been knocked out by a brute; Sassy Sarah with her flaming red hair and ample bosoms. Then there’s Sadie. Well, Sadie …
If you are a lost young woman steered to the wrong “boarding house,” Madam Fannie will keep you safe. She might also offer you a job as the bordello’s pianist.
But perhaps you choose not to enter.
You may be against vice, the Social Evil, the Grand Wrong. Then go to the public forum in Alamo Park. Hear Minnie Fisher (Cunningham) speak out on women’s rights. Listen to Women’s Christian Temperance Union‘s Texas president, Helen Stoddard, speak out against prohibition. But prepare yourself. Texans likes their beer.
Whichever choice you make, know this. The Last Bordello is not a novel about what goes on behind closed bedroom doors (okay, perhaps a tad), nor is it merely a whodunit. It’s about powerful women at the turn of the twentieth century who fought for their standing in life. While some found prostitution to be their only means of survival, other women fought for equal rights.
The Last Bordello depicts the struggle and determination of both sides.
Oh, and I suggest NOT entering Southwestern Insane Asylum.
It is 1901. So, would you enter or not? Are you curious about what’s inside? Appalled? There’s no wrong answer. There’s no right one, either. I’d love to hear your response and a reason or two why you chose to go in or stay out.
All the best,
Carolyn
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 