Showing posts with label WRB. Show all posts
Showing posts with label WRB. Show all posts
Monday, May 5, 2008
Seven Sinners at the WRB
I'm over at the Writer's Retreat Blog today talking about Seven Sinners, by Red Garnier. I really enjoyed it, come check out why...
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Erotic Magnetic Poetry
Fey posted a super-cool link to a magnetic poetry site on the WRB today. You can pick from several magnetic poetry kits, and then move them around to create your own poetry. Here's my first attempt:
If you do one, leave me a link in the comments so I can check it out!
If you do one, leave me a link in the comments so I can check it out!
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
WRB - Death, Taxes & Rejection
Today I'm blogging over at the WRB for Wiley Wednesday. My topic is rejection and rules for writing. Check it out!!
Sunday, April 13, 2008
FFC - Elements
Reacquaintance, by Kathleen Oxley
Air . . .
Melinda smiled as the storm raged against the shore. The wind whipped her skirt around her legs and her hair thrashed her face. She closed her eyes and stretched open her arms. The air circled her until she felt it would lift her off the ground. She opened her eyes and glanced down to confirm that her toes were still digging into the sand.
She fleetingly wished she could be inside, enjoying the storm through the protection of walls and windows. But she quickly erased that thought from her mind and instead she concentrated on her task for the night. She turned her face up to the sky and opened her senses to the space around her - the salty smell of the beach that carried in the air and the sharp sting as it berated her skin.
She lost herself to the sensations until the air calmed and became only a slight breeze off the water.
Fire . . .
Melinda spent the cool Spring day collecting twigs and dried leaves for kindling. At dusk, as the blanket of darkness grew closer, she knelt inside the circle of stones and watched as the flame slowly grew. She stayed close even as the fire raged to life.
Leaning back on her heels, she stared into the hazy mix of red, yellow and orange. Tears pooled in her eyes from the heat and smoke, but her vision became clearer. Images flashed in the fire – of past, present or future, she did not know. She watched them closely, paying attention to every detail until they slowed and then disappeared.
After several minutes of silence, Melinda closed her eyes and thanked the Goddess for her visions. She moved out of the circle of stones, cheeks flushed red from the heat of being so close, and followed the dirt path back to her home.
Water . . .
Reaching the shore, Melinda undid the sash of her robe and let it fall to the ground. She walked naked toward the ocean. She reached the edge of the water and let the white foam tickle the tops of her feet. The brief rush of water was cold and she shivered as she followed the receding wave back into the water. Her body chilled as the level rose higher, but she continued walking until it lapped at her shoulders. She stood for several minutes, moving her arms and legs absently, until her body adjusted to the temperature.
She shifted so that she floated on top of the waves. She spread her limbs and let the current carry her. She sighed at the freedom of the water cradling and holding her. She splayed her fingers and moved her arms in close to her body and then stretched out again, letting the water flow through her fingers as she did. Totally at ease, Melinda closed her eyes and drifted. Her mind cleared of all thoughts and worries as her body rose and fell on the small waves, wetness tickling the skin of her belly and breasts.
Earth . . .
The strong scent of earth rose as she dug her spade into the dirt. Melinda was in her backyard, tending to her garden. Some might consider the many beds luxurious, but Melinda saw them as merely the basics that she required. She grew flowers for their beauty, herbs for her medicines and spells, and vegetables for eating. She wore no gloves and didn't shy away from getting her hands dirty. She lovingly inspected each plant, weeding the flowerbeds and trimming the herbs as she went along. Then she planted new seeds for vegetables for the summer - mostly cucumbers, lettuce and carrots.
She put the last seeds into the ground and patted the soil as she covered them. She filled her copper watering can and wet each of the beds. Melinda stood back and smiled at the results of her hard work. She brushed dirt off of her clothes and stared at her hands. She smiled at the dirt-stained skin and at the soil under her fingernails. To her they were the signs of a job well done and of a union with the earth and the plants she tended.
Spirit . . .
Melinda awoke filled with a new-found strength. Getting back to the basics always left her feeling clean and refreshed. She gathered her tools, including her boline, several crystals and candles, and packed them up. She couldn't wait to join the rest of her coven for the Beltane festival. Now she could face the ritual, and the year ahead, balanced and centered.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Vacation Reading...
So, I'm on vacation this week and had some free time to read. Having just won a free download of Emily Ryan-Davis's, All The Trees In Pearl, this was at the top of my list. It was a quick, fun read. See my more detailed review over at the Writer's Retreat Blog.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Flash Friday - Ferrets
Picture prompted flash writing is one of the exercises we do on the Writer's Retreat. We take turns posting a picture and everyone writes a flash piece in response (500 word limit). Here's an example, and the story I wrote in response to this picture prompt:
Title: WTF!
Damn, I miss Ronnie. At least I used to have her to talk to. And I'll kill anyone who repeats it, but she was nice to cuddle up with too. She didn't hog the hammock either! Man, those were the days.
Title: WTF!
By: Kathleen Oxley
Word Count: 419
Well, I guess the grass really isn't always greener. I mean, really. All those months stuck in that fucking glass cage. Little fingers tapping on that glass - my god, the racket. Thump, thump, thump. I just wanted to sleep and chew on my pellets in peace for Christ's sake!
What'd I tell Ronnie? Just wait till we get outta here, Ronnie. Just you wait. Things will get so much better. Fuck, shows what I know.
Damn, I miss Ronnie. At least I used to have her to talk to. And I'll kill anyone who repeats it, but she was nice to cuddle up with too. She didn't hog the hammock either! Man, those were the days.
I don't even have a hammock anymore. And I'm still in a glass cage, but now it's like I've downgraded from a mansion to a fucking condo. I can barely breathe in that space. You really should not have to eat and shit in such close proximity, it's just not healthy. And she screams at me when I shit behind the sofa. But, truly, can you blame me?
At least I got that leash thing settled early. To think she actually thought I'd prance along all dignified on the end of a string. I'm not a freakin' dog, lady! Oh, and you see this bag? It's PINK! PINK?!?! Do I look like the pink kinda guy to you? I don't care if it is the hottest accessory, I look like a total fairy! I should be glad Ronnie isn't here to see this. Gads, she'd never let me hear the end of it.
The only thing I have to look forward to is the hope that we're going to visit that chick with the stupid cat. I mean, he's so fat and lazy and they think it's all cute that I can chase him around the house. At least I get some exercise and get to make someone else feel like the bitch for a change.
Oh god, no! NO! Anything but that - please, lady, save my sanity. Anything but Hannah Montana. Anything! Don't you have any musical taste at all? Where did they breed you?
Ugh! I give up. Don't you smile and sing at me! And don't you pet me either, you hideous demon spawn! Truly, you stick that hand in here one more time and I'm gonna bite off a digit. I mean it this time - fingers will be lost. A ferret can only take so much!
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Thursday Thirteen - Games
My Thursday Thirteen...
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Games I don't really like include Risk, |
Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in other's comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
Leave your link in a comment, and I'll link back to you here:
The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in other's comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
Leave your link in a comment, and I'll link back to you here:
Monday, March 24, 2008
WRB - sexyjack site review
Today kicks off our rotating schedule of blogging over at the Writer's Retreat Blog. We've got nine authors contributing to the site, so it should be a great mix of styles and topics. I'll be rambling over there every other Monday. For my first entry I reviewed a great photo compilation site, sexyjack. You can read my review here.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
FFC - Spring
Sorry I'm a little late with this one. This is my entry for the FFC 2008 Spring edition.
Easter Eve (408 words)
By: Kathleen Oxley
It was Saturday night and Cynthia was tucking one of the last eggs behind a pillow on the sofa. She glanced around the room. Under and around the furniture, bright little plastic eggs peeked out at her. Tomorrow morning was Bryan's fourth Easter and she knew he was going to love running around the house finding the eggs until his basket was full.
Cynthia sighed and sat down on the couch. It was late, almost midnight. She'd checked on Bryan before getting started and he was snoring softly in his room. She had enjoyed filling each of the eggs. There were some with the typical Easter candy, but not too many. Her son was hyper enough without the help of excessive amounts of sugar.
Many of the eggs held small toys - a bouncy ball, matchbox car, etc. Inexpensive trinkets that she picked out carefully, even knowing that Bryan would play with each briefly before moving on to the next item. A few of the eggs even held money - about ten dollars total split up into some singles and some change, with one egg holding a five dollar bill. She planned to take Bryan to the toy store next week to allow him to pick something out for himself.
She silently wished she could do more for him, to give him a big fancy Easter basket filled with new toys. But, she couldn't. This was the best she could do. She knew it would be enough, that Bryan would enjoy hunting for the eggs and that he would get excited about each one and what it held inside. But, she always wished she could do more.
She also hated that Bryan's dad couldn't be here to see him and to celebrate with them. She would take lots of pictures and email them to Martin next week, but it wasn't the same. He was in the Army and had shipped out to Iraq a little over a month ago. He would be gone almost a year this time, and already she felt lost without him. Holidays were always difficult, but she would put on a smile for Bryan and make the best of it.
Tomorrow they would go to church and pray for his safe return, but tonight, Cynthia would go to sleep alone in their bed. She looked around one more time to make sure everything was in place before creeping down the hallway to her room.
Easter Eve (408 words)
By: Kathleen Oxley
It was Saturday night and Cynthia was tucking one of the last eggs behind a pillow on the sofa. She glanced around the room. Under and around the furniture, bright little plastic eggs peeked out at her. Tomorrow morning was Bryan's fourth Easter and she knew he was going to love running around the house finding the eggs until his basket was full.
Cynthia sighed and sat down on the couch. It was late, almost midnight. She'd checked on Bryan before getting started and he was snoring softly in his room. She had enjoyed filling each of the eggs. There were some with the typical Easter candy, but not too many. Her son was hyper enough without the help of excessive amounts of sugar.
Many of the eggs held small toys - a bouncy ball, matchbox car, etc. Inexpensive trinkets that she picked out carefully, even knowing that Bryan would play with each briefly before moving on to the next item. A few of the eggs even held money - about ten dollars total split up into some singles and some change, with one egg holding a five dollar bill. She planned to take Bryan to the toy store next week to allow him to pick something out for himself.
She silently wished she could do more for him, to give him a big fancy Easter basket filled with new toys. But, she couldn't. This was the best she could do. She knew it would be enough, that Bryan would enjoy hunting for the eggs and that he would get excited about each one and what it held inside. But, she always wished she could do more.
She also hated that Bryan's dad couldn't be here to see him and to celebrate with them. She would take lots of pictures and email them to Martin next week, but it wasn't the same. He was in the Army and had shipped out to Iraq a little over a month ago. He would be gone almost a year this time, and already she felt lost without him. Holidays were always difficult, but she would put on a smile for Bryan and make the best of it.
Tomorrow they would go to church and pray for his safe return, but tonight, Cynthia would go to sleep alone in their bed. She looked around one more time to make sure everything was in place before creeping down the hallway to her room.
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