[periscope9-writes]

Now available on Amazon by PB Brown/Periscope9

Madness at Midnight: A Frightening Collection of Creepy Microfiction - Kindle edition by PB Brown. Download it once and read it on your Kind

[an-unlikely-poet]

I don’t know why I began

Dormant decades; words in bondage

Wondering why I kept them locked up for so long

A pacing lion in a cage, I failed to see the entertainment

Now I choose to bleed, on the paper

The strings

The keyboard

An open window and autumns cross breeze

Goose bumps and chills and deep breaths

Write it down

[periscope9-writes]

New Cover!! Available online as an ebook at Amazon, Barnes & Nobles, Apple Books, Playster and more! 

https://books2read.com/u/4jD7O2

A collection of a dozen endearing Romance stories to fall in love with. Some are short and sweet, while others are perfect to read while relaxing in the evening. Included in Always Mine is Starlight and Dreams; a tale of love and chance encounters, and Attitude; a story of finding the right man for the job. Ten more heartfelt stories of romantic encounters round out the dozen. 

[leicawri]

‘Tis I, a writer, togetherslapper of words.

[periscope9-writes]

Lost.

Micro-fiction by Periscope9

***************************

She was lost.

Twisting and turning through the narrow streets of the Fez Medina, she raced from one sharp intersection to another. She hadn’t paid any attention to her surroundings. All that had captured her attention were the pungent smells of cumin and paprika and the marketplace stalls covered with brightly colored cloth. Weaving her way anxiously through the crowded labyrinth, she hesitated, not wanting to call attention to herself. Her guide had warned her not to venture into the Medina alone. But her stubborn independence had made her shoo him away with a flick of her hand. 

A heavily pregnant young woman with two small children passed close by her in the constricted alleyway. Pressing herself tight against the cool, plaster wall, she tried her best to look invisible. She would find her own way out even if it took all day. But the older of the two small children paused and turned to look directly into her eyes. His dark hair was bursting with curls that caught the sparse light filtering through the wooden-slatted roof.

“Dayie.” He said softly. The young mother stopped and glanced back over her shoulder. The two women’s eyes met and no more words needed to be said. She didn’t need to understand the Arabic word ‘dayie’ to know that meant ‘lost’.  Nodding her head to the young mother, she ventured a slight smile. The mother’s returning smile was equally slight, but it was enough. The curly-haired boy reached for her hand and spoke in English. “Come.”

[lovelustquotes]

[periscope9-writes]

Spring is like an open door.

Obsidian hued curls sail behind as she flies down the back stairs. Bare feet a blur of motion as racing toes carry her over concrete paths and ache longingly for the green. Lips press into a thin, tight line, inhaling the fragrance of spring.

Spring is like a sprawling sky. Leaping higher and higher, arms like wings, flying from green leaf to gray limb. Billowing clouds beckoning skyward and sunlight summoning her home. She soars.

Spring is like...forever.

*Original prose and photography by periscope9

[thehonestauthor]

That half-realized character just trotting through your story like:

[laurajwellner]

Pages from The Book of Time, May 8, 2018

[periscope9-writes]

Original Photography and Fiction by Periscope9

**************

She settled her feet beneath her on the couch and then leaned forward, reaching for the book lying on the side table. Her lashes fluttered. It was too soon.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered and ran a finger woefully over the front cover, tapping the author’s name gently. “I know you’ll be good. I have no doubt. But I’m just not ready.”

Replacing the new book on the table, she closed her eyes and let her mind drift back to the book she had only recently finished. Lost in its pages, she had laughed at their mishaps and gasped at their adventures and their lives had leapt into being inside her. Sharing their loves and losses, their hopes and despairs, they had become her reality for a time. Still caught in the web of their realm, her heart and mind fought against the release. It was simply too soon and she wasn’t ready to slip from one world to the next. Her sigh was deep, yet content.

“I just need a little more time.”

[periscope9-writes]

Mittens

Photography and micro-fiction by periscope9

******************

Ella had never cared for cats. Their mouths were too small and their eyes were too wide and the purring reminded her too much of a whining baby. Yet there she was with her folded legs host to the biggest, softest feline she had ever seen.

“Mittens!” The young owner of the cat spoke loudly to Ella. “His name is Mittens!” “Sure.” Ella lifted an eyebrow as Mittens, answering to his name, turned to look in her direction. “That wasn’t me, cat. I didn’t call you.”

Mittens tilted his head and his tan striped fur caught the light and for a moment his entire body seemed to glow.

“Don’t get comfortable, cat.” Ella poked one finger at Mittens who dipped his head and rubbed an ear against her extended finger. “He likes you!” The young owner said loudly. “Not the best judge of character, is he?” Ella snorted and Mittens snorted in reply. “He likes you.” The young owner slipped off her chair and trotted over to join the rest of the kids, leaving Ella alone with Mittens.

“I’m not a cat person.” She whispered into one soft, furry ear. “I prefer dogs.” Mittens’ warm body pressed against her stomach and his tiny nose dug under her palm. “I’ll pet you once, then you have to go away.” Ella was serious. But so was Mittens. The battle of wills had begun.

[inrumford]

into the quiet that can only exist between the spaces of chances we missed

where quiet desperation is the only way and hearts that softly beat yearn for yesterday

when memories were formed on the backs of naïve youth

where it matters not what we forgot for there was too much pain in truth

into the quiet that has a sound all it’s own where one can almost hear the clock at midnight moan

[cleverbouquetwhispers-blog]

[cleverbouquetwhispers-blog]

Books

[incidentalcomics]

Ode to Lost Pens

This comic appears in the latest issue of The Southampton Review. Thanks to editors Lou Ann Walker and Emily Smith Gilbert!

The Shape of Ideas Book | The Shape of Ideas Calendar | Incidental Comics Poster Shop

[suzyhazelwood]

“Sleep is good, he said, and books are better.” 

George R.R. Martin

[suzyhazelwood]

[writingadviceandwisdom]

“If you did not write every day, the poisons would accumulate and you would begin to die, or act crazy, or both.”

— Ray Bradbury