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I Do, I Will

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  I’ve heard about brides stressing over the preparations for their wedding day; of grooms passively saying yes to however their wives-to-be pictured their special day; of fancy preparations from save the dates to engagement parties, prenuptial shoots, and elaborate rehearsal dinners; of over-the-top wedding programs, expensive bouquets, flower arrangements, and bridal gowns.  Mike and I wanted none of that. We both pictured a no-frills wedding by the beach with the people closest to our hearts. We planned every detail of it TOGETHER, and we got exactly what we wanted. It was a beautiful day for a wedding. Windy with a few scattered clouds and the sun slightly hidden among them. Mike and I were thrilled that it didn’t rain and we got the outdoor wedding we pictured. We had a laid back ceremony as well where we got to say our personalized vows. Mike posted his vows on his blog and here’s mine.  ————— I DO, I WILL Mike, when I say I do, I mean  that by God's grace… I will be patient
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Prompted: Characters in D Minor

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This week's writing prompt challenged us to think about minor characters we haven't fleshed out in other, larger written works, and write a story about and around them. - - - - - o 0 o - - - - One Fateful Night b y   J u c y Where does one’s story begin or end? Is it precisely demarcated and bookended by a birth and a death or is its timeline more jagged than one can discern? Mine began when I was born but it also started when Matthias decided to marry Isabella in 1910. Their union was the catalyst that catapulted my story into a dark container van pervaded by a stench that even death would find disgusting. My great-grandfather, Matthias, was the only son of the third wealthiest man in New York City in the 1900s; but he was disinherited when he married my great-grandmother Isabella, a struggling doctor and scientist who didn’t have a single dime in her bank account. But the two of them worked together to build a name for themselves and established the most advanced pharmacologi
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Prompted: Spelled Differently

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Today's writing prompt: A magical mishap shrinks your character for twenty four hours. How does the day go? - - - - - o 0 o - - - - - Mini Magical Mishap ( b y  J u c y ) “Beet root, potato peel, onion bulbs... “Abigail!” her mother’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Yes, Mom?” “What are you doing in here? Are you still trying to concoct a vaccine for this virus?” “I’m close, Mom; I can feel it!” “Why don’t you leave that to the scientists and the medical community. You are 17; it’s not your responsibility to solve the world’s problems.” “But I’m on to something, Mom. I really believe this would do the trick.” “Okay. Just be careful that you don’t hurt yourself in this basement.” “I will, Mom.” Abigail continued mixing the ingredients she gathered from her grandmother’s garden and the chemical compounds she took from her school’s chemistry lab. She knew that she’d be expelled if her teacher ever found out; but once she finds the cure for COVID-19, they will forget about her little
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Prompted: Earl

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This week's first writing prompt is the word 'earl'. - - - - - o 0 o - - - - - The Earls of Love ( b y   J u c y ) The pEARLs he gave her that night glimmered under the starlight They look grand, lightly perched on her EARLobes The pEARLescent orbs a compliment to her perfectly tanned skin Five decades thence and five more hence, he loved her fiercely and dEARLy His brown shEARLing wool coat, a covert witness To his fEARLess profession of sober yet true love Daily, monthly, yEARLy he proved his devotion Demonstrated his affection with bEARLike consistency From EARLy morning, dusk, till dawn He stands by her side yEARLong Their love his home and EARLdom Their lives proceeded linEARLy They moved as one, rectilinEARLy And though they're nEARLy at the sunset of their days They hold hands and stare at each other, tEARLess The joy the feel, boundless; their love, gEARLess - - - - - o 0 o - - - - - Essex ( b y  M i k e ) Even after realizing lies Analyzing rude, loquacious eye
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Prompted: Thunder

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- - - - -  T H U N D E R - - - - - ( by Mike ) Zeus indeed commanded it Compelling all to bow A deafening sound, a rumble What do we do right now? Olympus dwellers exclaim And mortals choose parlay The father of the deities  Had something else to say Elsewhere, far, however The Son of Asgard tries Without a heavy hammer Who knows how he will fly Preceding or proceeding It ever will be heard When Odinson approaches The skies produce one word Perhaps another wielder Of wind and rain and hale Can aptly demonstrate here Where others ably fail Demanding eyes to witness And ears to hear the peals Let Miss Ororo Munroe Show you the real deal But really, as it turns out The noise, the boisterous din Brought stormy clouds and rainfall And joys come from within 'Cause Willy's favorite product Got soaked and melted, flowed Into a chocolate river Confectioners explode - - - - - o 0 o - - - - - - - - - - T H U N D E R - - - - - ( by Jucy ) A deep, throaty rumble in the night sky That slowly
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Prompted: Falling Star

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We are starting a new segment on this blog called 'PROMPTED', which will be a series of posts containing two blog entries written by Mike and Jucy based on writing springboards taken from a book of daily writing prompts. This is their first attempt based on the following writing idea: "A star falls from the sky and lands on a family's backyard. Only, it isn't a star... but a friendly alien." - - - - - S T A R - - - - - ( by Jucy ) One summer night in Shannon A streak of light shot through the sky A star dropped from the heavens And there on our backyard died The wooden shed was in ruins As the celestial body burned I was busy dousing the fire But my father looked unconcerned “Dad, should we call the fire department?” “No, the rain will soon pour” “But the wind is getting stronger! “Don’t worry it’s under control” The tongues of flames subsided Ashes scattered in the air The shed a blackened charcoal I said a little prayer Mother stood by the greenhouse With a
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Beast of Inordinate Circumstance

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tones of grief, epitome of shame half-wrought notes : apology or blame throw the stone — regret — into the deep on the edge, the onset very steep share the baggage, every single weight but unload and shear before too late silent burden hears a lot and more scurrying like hares upon the floor steal the thunder and obscure the light slip them tales of fake and frigid might wipe the board clean; write it on a slate stale or recent; do not hesitate smile , go on like everything’s afloat keep it neat; there’s slime under the moat don’t be dour, sour from these limes   miles to go; there will be sleeping time
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