“Seriously, mom. I think this thing is a meteorite, and it’s sounds like it is singing.”
“Well, Stella, sounds to me like you’ve got a mess,” countered her homebound 81-year-old mother.
“Well, mom, it does look wet. And I think it is starting to stink,” replied Stella as she leaned toward the thrumming rock lodged into the floor of her dining room. She stepped back and winced as her nostrils began to burn. “Yep. There is a definite funk in the air.”
Her mom took a deep breath before making the curt proposal, “Stella. Can’t you just pick it up and throw it back out the window?”
“Hmm,” considered Stella. “I think I smell something like snips and snails and puppy dog tails. This odd odor and the sounds emanating from the meteor make me feel light-headed. Perhaps, I’ll take a nap…”
Her mom was having none of it. “Cut the crap, Stella, and roll that thing outside before it starts growing hair.”
Today’s post is the third part from the continuing saga about “Stella’s Visitor.”
I composed this post last night while watching TV in bed and before creating the image using the ArtRage app on my tablet.
Stella sat enthralled. The flickers from the random ball of fire she found sitting on her dining room floor had finally died out. She thought it might be a good idea to call the fire department or NASA. Yet, Stella simply couldn’t bring herself to move.
She sat for hours listening to the sounds emanating from the alien rock. The pop, sizzle, pop, rat-a-tat she had heard originally upon entering the house had long since dissipated. Now, an ethereal and sonorous melody played with her imagination. Enthralled with the sounds, she lost track of time.
Hours later she decided to call her elderly mother.
“Hi, mom. I need you to listen to this . . .” >>
Today’s post is the second chapter of the continuing saga about “Stella’s Visitor.”
I composed this post last night while watching TV in bed. I created the image using the ArtRage app on my tablet. Then then I recorded the sound effects using an app on my Android phone. I am easily entertained.
Stepping into the house, Stella heard strange noises. And they were not emanating from the grate of the garage door or the rumble of the air conditioner. Grasping the edge of the door, she gently slid her key out of the lock and quickly pocketed it.
She stood still in the pantry and cocked her head to listen. Listen to what Stella heard >>
Stella’s mind raced as she heard a rustling, a rat-a-tat, and a clinking.
She wondered to herself, “Is an injured bird bird fluttering around the dining room? Is my husband rooting through his desk? Is a rodent of unusual size scampering from the closet under the stairs?”
Her curiosity piqued, she decided to investigate.
Warily, Stella entered the kitchen. She looked around to spot a broken window over in the dining room. Her gaze traced a trail of scorch marks and shards of glass to find a smoldering mass lodged in the floor boards of her dining room.
Befuddled, she muttered out loud, “Huh. Look at that.”
Today’s post was inspired by the following prompt: “When she returns home, your character finds the window broken and a meteorite burning a hole in the rug.” See Writing.com at http://www.writing.com/main/writing_prompts.
I composed this post last night while watching TV in bed. I created the image using the ArtRage app on my tablet. Then then I recorded the sound effects by holding my mobile phone in one hand and stirring a bowl of popcorn, a TV remote, and the stylus from my tablet with my other hand.
A state of mind. We live with an eye towards the future. We live to behold the wonders of the world. It’s a state of mind.
I wrote this brief bit in 60 seconds after seeing the word “western”. That was my one word prompt at www.oneword.com—a website designed to provide the user with a prompt to write something in 60 seconds.
Lead by example. Stand up to bullies. Give love to hate. Speak truth to power.
I consider maxims like these to be simple truths. I hope these truths can provide a moral compass to guide us through harrowed times. Yet I know that time rolls on and truth seems to be a matter of perspective.