One Hundred Words : The Simple Pleasure of an Apple


A bit of rubbing on my sweater enhances the apple’s skin to a glow. The faint aroma is reminiscent of cantaloupe, with a hint of lemon. As I pierce the skin, there is a mind numbing crackle. My teeth slide through the succulent flesh, rending juices which dribble down my chin. My mouth fills with them both sweet and tart with the tough bitterness of the skin lingering on. The second bite, blends the sensations and flavors. A hard crunch, soft chew followed by delicious juice. I challenge you to eat an apple; outside, with the wind catching your hair.

One Hundred Words – the memory of the day ahead

The air had the scent of summers past; when the morning was spent in anticipation of the day ahead. I remember the light breeze and coolness of the day that lifted my hair as I helped to pack the car for the trip to my aunt’s house. I could capture it for you; a mix of bird song the scent of flowers and the essence of sun starting to warm the day. A calm unfettered feeling with only the movement towards our arrival. I would see my cousins, drink lemonade, eat tiny egg salad sandwiches, and walk in the woods.


One Hundred Words – The Game – Sunday April 28, 2013

IMG_6440“It’s your turn.” I say handing him the small white dice. They make a pleasant sound as he shakes them and land with a plunk on the table. “Six!” He says with glee, obviously not understanding  that a low number is not that desirable. A few more pieces of colored paper move into his meager pile. His turn is played and the dice come to me. I hold them in hand testing their weight and roll them between my fingers thinking of tens and twelves. The roll is disappointing; only an eight. I buy some colored papers and move on.

Through the gate – 100 words – One Hundred Words


The sweet smell of lilac in full bloom hit me long before I touched the cold metal of the gate. The morning was chilly despite the sun’s warmth. A breeze lifted my hair and rustled the branches. I released the latch. The garden was still loved, but plainly far too much work for aging hands. The green burst of spring had consumed the bare spaces left by winter die-back. I put down my basket of tools and laid the blanket near the wildest part. Gathering my well-worn skirt to one side, I settled myself, surveying the smaller world.

The Old Bones – 100 Words – Weekly Writing Challenge – Sunday April 7, 2013

The bones were old, creamy beige with dark brown crevices. You could imagine my surprise to find them so neatly stacked behind the shed. They were gleaming, as if someone had washed and dried them. It was more likely that the rain and wind had done the thorough cleaning. Brushing stray leaves away, I lifted the top bone. It was lighter than I expected and still warm from the sun. I brought the flared lens of the bone analyzer close. There were no fractures in this one. It was long, tapering to a wide end point where it joined something.


100 Words – Sunday February 10, 2013

20130203-181727.jpgYou might notice that this 100 word offering continues from last week’s story. There are no rules that say I can’t do a running theme or story as long as each offering is 100 words; so I may play around a bit. Still hoping that goes live so I can read more 100 word offerings there!

Here is today’s One Hundred Words:

The dog was standing there looking at me. Something shiny in its mouth glistened in the weak light of the dawn. I slowly approached saying softly, “It’s okay boy, I won’t hurt you,” and crouched two feet away with my arm outstretched. In its mouth was a key. The hound looked at me with its soft brown eyes and then slowly put a paw forward until it was almost at my hand.

I waited and it moved forward again. Brushing my hand across the soft fur of its head, I rubbed its neck. It was wearing a brown grosgrain collar.

100 Words – January 13, 2013


The second in my weekly 100 word offering 🙂

I had always thought that with buildings the color of Damascus that Rome would be free of snow. Imagine my surprise, while riding a moped stark naked through the streets, to have an icy white flake land upon my nose. It seemed surreal. Here I was in the land of golden gladiators being waylaid by streets paved with cotton. I managed to get home, half-frozen with ice forming on the tips of things which should never see ice. The circuitous journey from the party was truly an enlightening experience and one that I will likely never hope to repeat.