Saturday afternoons for Edward meant taking his boat out to the island. He had bought this small piece of land as a wedding present for his wife 15 years ago.
‘The cover image of ‘milk and honey’ had been sporadically showing up in my Instagram feed for the last couple months. It was simple yet intriguing. All black with stark white lower case lettering. The illustration was a pair of bees.
So I realized (after someone mentioned it) that my last blog post went out without the text! How does that even happen?
I just wanted to let you all know that the blog will not have weekly scheduled posts, as I am currently traveling for a short summer break!
However, if you would like to follow me on Instagram (@anintrovertedbogger), you can check out what happens when an expat goes back home. Also, my Instastories have some randomness going on. Just click on the logo to check it out.
We are finally in the last week of school. Having been through rigorous exams, science projects, and copious amounts of homework, I can’t tell you how ready we are for the summer holidays to roll around. No alarms, no pick ups or drop offs and no after school activities – there are just no words to describe the joy and elation that transcends us.
When my kids were toddlers, we did quite a bit of traveling with them. We were brave. It took quite a bit of planning, and had it’s moments of stressful diaper changes in public restrooms and tantrums mid flight. My kids are now pre-teens, but summer travel has presented itself with a different set of challenges. So to those of you who think, it gets easier, once the kids are older – let me shatter that for you!
Catherine had wanted to get away for a while. Her life had become an endless succession of disappointments, making it a breeding ground for anxiety, anguish and uncertainty.
She managed to book a quaint rustic cottage in rural Spain for the summer. As she arrived and made her way down the cobbled steps towards the shed, she felt a sense of calm prevail.
The antiquated desk was pushed back against the window. Catherine hesitantly opened the top right drawer to find an incomplete handwritten manuscript. She pulled up the chair, and sat to complete the story. It was her story.
Word Count: 100
This post was written as part of the Friday Fictioneers Challenge hosted by Rochelle. The idea is to write a short story (100 words), based on the photo prompt provided.
I really struggle with trying to capture the essence of the story in 100 words, but quite enjoy the challenge.
To read more interesting stories, click on the blue frog.
I have always enjoyed running. I love to be able to say ‘I’m a runner’. It has a certain ring to it. That being said, I have never competed in a 3K, 5K or even a fun run. Ever. So I am not sure that qualifies me to be a ‘runner’? Add to that, the fact that I run incomparably slower than my kids, who are 10 and 12. But I still run. Unfortunately, consistency has never been my strong suit, so I run off and on, but these days it is back ‘on’. So perhaps I am an occasional runner?
The meteorologist had issued a winter weather advisory in effect for the town of Canton. She stood by the window sill, warm coffee mug in hand, and admired the dense foliage that had frosted over last night. There was a sense of calmness and tranquility outside that she wished would flow over into her life.