frazzled & frumpy

This week's prompt comes from Write on Edge . The prompt is a choice of a quote and/or a picture.  The quote: I would have written of me on my stone: I had a  lover's quarrel with the world. -Robert Frost And, the picture- Lover's Quarrel Helen picked her way carefully over the slick stones. The sea spray teased her face and dampened her long, raven hair. Her bare feet knew the way, moving from place to place without wavering. “Helen!” She ignored his voice, keeping her face to the water. From a distance, the sea appeared calm, serene, but the closer she got, the more she could hear the crash of waves below. A wooden pole stuck out from the rocks, completely out of place. Helen put her hand on the walking stick and sat next to it. Unshed tears burned her eyelids. “Helen.” Eyes wide, she leaned her head against the wood. A small indent had been carved into it and her hand fit there just so. She could almost feel his hand on it. Almost. “You’r...

I've been working on a birthday post, but until that's done, here's one written for the Write on Edge prompt for this week- 'What are your goals and aspirations for your writing?' "Julie wrote a poem. Would you like to read it?" These words were music to my ears. My parents, ever the supportive ones, would brag about my writing to friends and family.  I would shyly stand by, waiting, hoping, praying that someone would say yes. From the moment I began writing, I wanted to share it. I never did it just for myself.  Like any art, it's meant to be enjoyed, and appreciated.  But, unlike other 'art', writing isn't as easy to share.  You can't frame it and put it on the wall, or sit down and play it for a crowd.  It was always awkward to try and share my gift. Enter the blogging world. Suddenly, I had people reading what I wrote. And, some of them liked it. It was empowering. As my readership grew, so did my confidence. My goals a...

Scarlett stood in the back of a group of children. She wished she were in the front. The first kids always got the best hiding spots.  Her heart pounded at the thought of trying to find a place away from the searing eyes of Wolf.  There he was in the corner.  Standing on his hind legs, walking like a man, Wolf turned his big eyes toward her.  He grinned, showing his pointed teeth.  He winked. Scarlett shrunk back behind a tall boy who smelled like sweat. She hated this game.  “Go!” Just like that, they were off. The children scattered like so many cockroaches, running through the big house. Every place Scarlett looked was occupied.  She knew her time was running out, and her heart threatened to stop all together. The library door was open and she hurried in.  She slid against the hardwood floor and pushed herself between the mahogany table legs.  Praying for the cover of darkness, she huddled as far back as she cou...