Daylight Fell

Daily Prompt



” You really burned me up Ava, but I think I can forgive you.” Ava’s Mother, Violet Louise, pushed her glasses back up her nose and looked at her daughter and then out the passenger window. ” I just don’t like change, you know that. It’s time though. I know that.”

” Mom.” Ava looked into the rearview mirror and saw her Mom’s things, packed in old school trunks sitting on the back seat. ” It’s nice at Falcon Ridge. You can see the Ocean from your new place.

Violet Louise’s glasses rode down her nose again and she pushed them back up. ” I’ve always liked the Ocean. I almost gotten eaten by a shark once, and another time I swam to far out and almost drowned. But I didn’t care. I loved the Ocean and I wouldn’t have stayed out of it for anything.”

Ava pulled a stick of gum from her visor and popped it into her mouth. She worked the wrapper off with her tongue and teeth and spat it out the window.

” That is such a nasty habit Ava.”

” I learned it from you.”

” And do you know what else is a nasty habit? Contradicting you Mother.”

Ava tried to laugh but she couldn’t.

” You’re going to be okay Mom.” Ava said for the millionth time. ” You’re going to be ok. Falcon Ridge… I mean your new place is called Falcon Ridge, how cool is that?”

” I like the name just fine and I know I’m going to be ok. I survived a shark attack. Now spit that gum out before we get out of the car. It looks tacky for a woman of your age to be popping and snapping her gum in a situation like this.”

They pulled into the parking lot- the clouds were gathering on the horizon and the fog was rolling up from the beach.

The Receptionist from Falcon Ridge was waiting outside as promised.

Ava rolled her window down and the Receptionist leaned in and said gently, ” Hello Ava. If you bring your Mom, we have her place all ready for her.”

Ava reached over and gently picked up the box with her Mother’s ashes encased in a pink marble urn from the seat next to her.

It was no where near dusk, but Daylight Fell and the clouds over head blocked out the Sun.



I Walk A Lonely Street

Daily Prompt

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.


Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Well, since my baby left me,
I found a new place to dwell.
It’s down at the end of lonely street
at Heartbreak Hotel.

Photo A.M. Mocoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

And although it’s always crowded,
you still can find some room.
Where broken hearted lovers
do cry away their gloom.

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Hey now, if your baby leaves you,
and you got a tale to tell.
Just take a walk down lonely street
to Heartbreak Hotel.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Well, the Bell hop’s tears keep flowin’,
and the desk clerk’s dressed in black.
Well they been so long on lonely street
They ain’t ever gonna look back.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

You make me so lonely baby,
I get so lonely,
I get so lonely I could die.

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photos By A.M Moscoso

Lyrics ” Heartbreak Hotel” By


Forced Nature


Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

Photo: A.M. Moscoso

A perfect pool of water,

a pleasure to the eye

Cool, contained, controlled.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

A  pefect pool of water

hiding in the woods

Still. Silent. Sly.

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

A Perfect pool of water

rushing to it’s end

Trapped. Tortured. Tormented.


Now You See It or You Won’t


B is for the Blade of Grass

Photos By A.M. Moscoso

I’ve decided that this week I’m going to pay more attention to Nature maybe take some pictures, take a stab and write a poem or two  about it, I’ll have to see what moves me I suppose.

I guess that taking in Nature is a lot like art appreciation. You can look at it from all the angles, you can study it, sit in the middle of it and soak it in.

Or you can ask, ‘what is this telling me, right now in this moment?”

Yesterday I took a couple of pictures- one of a lavender bush and a dead  tree that was carved up like a Halloween Pumpkin and given a face…I don’t know about you but that rubbed me the wrong way.

So after taking the pictures- of two living things that have been modified to be pleasing to the eye- I can’t imagine that they like it ( sort of like dressing up a cat or dog, though it does seem some of them do like that ) I decided to change them too.

I flipped through the app options on my camera until I got the pictures here- it was like an ah-ha moment.

It was like the tree and the lavender plants said, ” here we are.”

But really it’s more like I said ‘there you are.’

The tree and the plant came off in my pictures as un-real, a little unsettling, a touch macabre.

I’m hoping I see more of that this week.

It’s the part of nature I get.


Photo A.M. Moscoso


The One Who Causes To Live



Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

After you heart stops, after the lights go off in your brain and your face turns into an expressionless mask, I read an article  that says that your some of your Genes switch on two days following your death.

The idea is fantastic, after everything that made you who you WERE is gone hundreds of your genes look around and say “OK , let’s get to work.”

Wouldn’t it be something if it worked on a grand scale , if your DNA grew another person from your remains.

Maybe we’d get wrapped up like mummies and after 70 days ( which is how long it took to prep a body for mummification ) there was an opening of the mouth ceremony and the bandages came off and there … would it be you? Another you? Would your DNA just pull together information from your history and  see what it got after repairing the damaged you?


Or maybe the way it work is that the person you could have been could have a chance to exist now, deprived of that chance because when the genetic dice got rolled the first time it lost.

Maybe that person is in our blood, our bones, our DNA and after we’ve gone it tries one last time to live.

What an idea.

What  story that would be.


Stacy Green Was Here


Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt


When I was a kid, we used to go to the park and horse around the water towers at Jack Long Park.

We used to throw rocks, play wall ball and sit around the base of the tanks and tell each other stories about what would happen if the tanks exploded and the water rushed out- how much was there? Would we drown? Would they cancel school for the day…or maybe even TWO days?

We’d look up at those giants and wonder if they wanted to do just that- drown us all.

The park was a nice enough park, but those tanks were spooky.

They still are.


It was always cool and dark between the three tanks, if you yelled or laughed or talked it seemed like those towers muffled the sound- I take that back.

It was like having someone throwing their hand over your mouth mid scream.

Still, that was our favorite place to play and we went there every chance we got. The thing of it is, whenever we went there we’d lose track of time and end up ‘on restriction’ when we’d end up at back home.

When it came to being ‘on restriction’  my Mom and Dad would huff and puff and blow off some steam and I’d be free as a bird within 24 hours.

My friends did hard time, so I’d end up at the Towers on my own periodically.

One day I was up there throwing rocks at tallest tank
when some ‘big kids’ showed up.

They were around 13 and I was around 8 and I was a little squirt with long hair and from what I’m told, a somewhat unsettling disposition.

” Hey, don’t throw rocks at that thing. You might break it and all of the water will come out.”

The boys were all on bikes and they were cool looking- no doubt about that.

I picked up another rock and threw it at another tank.


” Do you want to die?” One of them asked.

I picked up another rock and threw it harder- it whizzed back at me and had I not stepped out of the way it would have hit me.

” No.  I’m just trying to shake something loose from the bottom of the tank.”

” Oh really? What?”

” Stacy. Stacy Green.”

“There’s nobody in there. ” they laughed at me.

I laughed back.

” You better hope  she is.”

I looked up a the tanks and so did the boys.

There were ladders on those towers, but of course you needed to bring a ladder to reach them. I looked up at one of them and said ” Good thing she’s afraid of heights. Even if I shake her loose she’ll be afraid to come down. I think.”

” You’re a weird little  kid.”

No doubt, they were impressed with my little story and as they rode off,  I heard one them say, ” Stacy Green. She said her name was Stacy Green.”


One day they put fences up around the tanks and now I feel a little sorry for the kids who will never have a place to go to discuss mortality, throw rocks without fear of punishment or breaking windows.

I’ll have to admit though, I’m glad that fence is there and that’s it’s locked.

Just in case Stacy Green ever decides to overcome her fear of heights.


Look Into My Crystal…I Mean Facebook Page


Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.



I will look at your Facbebook page 


see all


know all



Anita Marie  Moscoso


I will troll 

your blog


see all


know all



Anita Marie Moscoso


To that 


Anita Marie Moscoso




the same

to the internet connection you rode in on.


Domino’s Legacy


Whether two of a kind or ten, give us subjects that are in sync with one another — show us partnerships.

There’s nothing exceptional about these pictures-I took them with my phone.

However,  I do think the story behind them is an exceptional one.


Darwin and Domino

Darwin and Domino

When my sweet girl Domino was going through the final stages of her life due to  congestive heart failure, I would take her out to the walk outside of our house and she would enjoy the Sun and watching the world,  one bicycle rider, one dog walker, one group of school kids one at a time for one hour after another.

As you can see, we didn’t stand out there alone.

Domino and her late sister Cerberus raised our kittens

Micey and Darwin and in turn  were devoted to the Girls.

As her health failed  Domino was always accompanied by our cat Darwin, he was with her the night she passed away too.


Hamish Macbeth and Micey

Hamish Macbeth and Micey

Micey was Domino’s favorite cat- she would let him take her food, her favorite sleeping spot, if he wanted attention she would let him get it first. I’m not sure why because Darwin and our other cat Kolchak were so sweet to her.

But she liked our little bad boy Micey and when she was able to she would play rough and chase him around and then they’d sit out on our back porch and enjoy the rest of their day.

After she passed away Micey wasn’t really the same…until Hamish came along.

And they became not just Partners they became



They eat together, nap together, they share toys and friendship and a certain amount of affection- and when they bicker Micey always wins and Hamish always cries a little.

I can’t imagine one without the other now.

I don’t think they need each exactly.

I think they belong together.


The Lady Bug Killer



Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt


There was a family of 6 living around the corner from us back when I was a little girl.

There was the Mom, the Dad and four girls- four stuck up, prissy and the most un-fun having humans that ever walked the face of the Earth.

My friend Bonnie and my other friend Laurie were always getting tattled on by the Four Sisters- and as it went we always came down on the wrong side of things so the three of us always ended up getting into trouble.

They told on us when we would sneak across the street to Green Lake, when we would ride our wagon down these huge hills and end up in the middle of Aurora with cars whizzing by us as we tried to get out of the road and then they told on us the time we crawled in through a window at the school and drew all over the chalkboards in the 6th Grade Classrooms.

And there was the time we were accused of tying one of sister’s bikes to the tether ball pole at the playground and nobody could get the knots out so they had to use these giant garden shears to cut the rope.

Common sense would tell you that the combined strength of three six year old girls couldn’t have managed that, but we weren’t snitches so we never told on the boys who actually did it.

The three of us lost our bike and wagon privileges so we were not a happy group of Kindergarteners on the day of The Lady Bug Massacre.


On that day we were out WALKING to the playground because our wheels were locked up.

On that walk we passed the Four Sisters house.

The oldest sister was on the lawn putting those tassel things on the handle bars of her bike ( seeing her with that bike just unhinged me ) and the one close to us in age was standing at the edge of the yard with a jar.

” Want to see what I have?” she asked.

We kept walking. ” Hey you Brats, look at what I have.”

Bonnie turned around and asked what was in the jar.

” Lady Bugs.”

I went back to take a look. ”  Couldn’t you find any boy ones?”

” You’re so stupid.” She told me. ” Here Laurie,  look what I have.”

Laurie looked at me and Bonnie. ” You have to talk louder, she can’t hear very well.”

The older sister added, ” And she’s a Spaz right?”

I gave the older sister and her stupid bike the finger and she promptly ran straight to my house.

” Do you like my Lady Bugs?”

Bonnie said no, I agreed and then that little psycho walked to her garden hose, unscrewed the lid of the jar and started to fill it with water.

I was speechless, horrified and stunned. It felt like someone had just popped my lungs because I couldn’t take a breath. I had never seen anything so cruel in my short little life.

Bonnie, always the hero, ran over and grabbed the jar and tipped it over and freed the surviving lady bugs. I figured it was ok until Laurie started to cry.

It was just to much I guess.

I walked over to the Lady Bug Killer and punched her right in the nose and all of the sudden it was  like every door and window in her house exploded and her family comes running out and they’re screaming at me, at Bonnie and they screamed at Laurie too.

I knew it, I was busted, I was going to do hard time for the swearing, the punching, the and probably the slaugter of the Lady Bugs.

I stamped my foot and shouted loud enough for my Grandma to hear the next block over, ” You’re all Crazy…so fuck you! Fuck you, fuck your stupid yard and your dumb bikes and I hope those lady bugs fly up your noses and eat your brains…and for good measure I spelled it too ” F-U-C-K you!”

I grabbed Bonnie by her pony tail and Laurie by her hand and I pulled them both to my house where I was sure the Police would be and I was sure we’d never see our bikes again.


We didn’t even try to explain ourselves, the Sisters, their Parents and their Grandma who was about a million  years old ripped the three of us up one side and down the other.

They said we should be sent to Reform School or Catholic School or Dog Obedience but it was clear SOMETHING HAD TO BE DONE.

Our Parents all agreed.

Of courselady-bugs-ladybugs-32773963-1800-1200

During my week long restriction I caught the flu and my Grandpa got babysitting duty- it was fine with me. He would bring comic books, let me watch whatever I wanted on TV and he didn’t bother me because he was one that believed a sick person does better when they can stay quiet and not get fussed over so much.

So we were sitting there watching a Soap Opera  that took place in the reception area of a hospital- I was fascinated with the elevator and the way people would dramatically exit and enter from it.

I went into hysterics when they did the close up shots of the actor’s faces and I used to try to copy them-mostly at dinner time or when I was supposed to be ‘paying attention.’

I didn’t even look at the tv until I heard that ping sound.

So between those riveting shots of the elevator my Grandpa asked was it true? Was I really the Devil’s Spawn? He was not amused by our neighbors but I did amuse him so he wasn’t mad.

Just curious about how I was going to answer.

” They think we’re Evil. But we’re not. I can prove it. Wait.” I jumped off the couch and ran upstairs to my bedroom and brought a loaded squirt gun back with me.

I held it up and showed it to my Grandpa and pointed it at my chest and squeezed the trigger.

He looked confused.

” It’s holy water.” I said

” Where did you get it from?”

I looked at the gun, the wet spot on my pajama top and sighed. ” Well. It’s not like they lock the doors to the Church and the water is just right there… never mind.” I said.

I crawled back up on the couch and waited for the elevator doors to open.


The Grave Tale of Murder Dog and Trash Panda


Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.


Murder Dog and Trash Panda are gravediggers at the Leaning Birches Cemetery right here in Washington state and they have both been keeping grounds there for over 30 years.

Murder Dog ( Mundy Wolf ) and Trash Panda ( Elspeth Sung) used to tell people they took on those names back  in their wild days as Punk rock musicians back in high school. The truth is, they were both honor role students.

But the girls assumed they would never get jobs digging graves with names like Eli and Muni so they made up the wildest nicknames they could think of, and lo and behold they got the jobs.

They dug graves, ran heavy machinery, helped the Funeral Directors in the embalming room and they trimmed and mowed and kept the grass and trees and shrubs looking neat- but not to perfect.

Doc Treason ( that’s Docia Treason, the sole proprietor of Leaning Birches ) was very picky about that- the grounds should look natural, wild a little separate from the world around it.

Doc had all sorts of wild ideas about death- but she paid well, she never had a bad word to say about anyone living or dead and she was a soft touch when it came to people without a lot of money to see their loved ones into the next world- so whatever she said pretty much went.

Her staff on the other hand lacked her general temperament.

Sometimes Murder Dog and Trash Panda would see a Funeral Procession winding it’s way down one of the two roads that cut through the cemetery and before the hearse passed them their tools would be stashed behind a tree or in the maintenance truck’s bed. Their sunglasses would be stashed in their back pockets and their hair would be pulled back into ponytails.

Sometimes as the hearse slid by, one of the directors would casually drape their arm out the driver’s window and they would give the Gravediggers the finger.

Murder Dog and Trash Panda, their heads bowed would roll their eyes up and mouth, ” Same to you “

“How’d you like to bury that son of bi…” Trash Panda would start.

” With my bare hands.” Murder Dog would finish.

That’s about as normal as things got at Leaning Birches.


Murder and Panda were catching the bright winter sun in the old part of the cemetery when Panda asked Murder, ” Remember that service we did for that baby, you know, the one born with one eye in the middle of her face and no mouth, what was her name?”

” Madeline,” Murder lifted her face to the sun ” Madeline Faulkner.”

” Yeah. Madeline. Remember her Great Grandma, she died liked three months after Madeline.”

” She was like a hundred right?”

” I don’t know, the point is the Great Grandma, we buried her right?”

” Yeah. “

” I mean, we dug the grave and put her into it, right?”

” Yes Panda, we buried her. That’s what we do. We bury dead people.”

” There’s a few live ones I’d like to…”

” Your point Trash Panda is?”

” I saw her.”

” Who?” Murder Dog pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head.

” Madeline’s Great Grandma.”

” Who?”

Trash Panda said slowly. ” I. Saw. Madeline’s Great Grandma at The Food Bazaar. She was in the that section where they sell candy and stuff in bulk. She was bagging some yogurt pretzels.”

Murder Dog started to walk away from Trash Panda and then she walked back and whispered into Trash Panda’s ear. ” Never say anything like that out loud again. Really Panda. That’s the kind of talk that gets you sent to Greenlake for an extended vacation. You know what I mean?”

” I saw her, the lady we buried, in the bulk food section at the Food Bazaar. Deal with it Murder Dog.”


A few weeks later Murder Dog did have to deal with it because she saw Mr. Denny Pearce dead at age 46 from a boating accident and Laverne Simon age 84 taken from this world after a brief illness waiting for a table at the Terrace Lighthouse Restaurant.


Murder Dog and Trash Panda were pruning the trees on Sunrise Hill when they both stopped working and they looked around the cemetery from the ladders they were standing on and both of them wondered,

” Is anybody home?”


Murder Dog figured it would be OK to ask Doc about her views on the dead returning to the land of the living. Doc as I shared earlier had some off the wall ideas about death and everyone at the Funeral Home knew it.

She had those ideas because she was always willing to listen to whatever people wanted to share and with that Doc Treason has heard a lot.

The opportunity to share her idea came one morning when Doc Treason asked Murder Dog to help her in the embalming room.

” Say Doc. I have this idea about ghosts. Want to hear it?”

” You know it Murder Dog.”

” Well. In all these movies and TV shows only certain people can see ghosts, right?”

” Right. Here, help me uncover Miss Bixby. “

Murder Dog went on, ” I have this idea that might not be true.”

” Seeing ghosts?”

” No. That only certain people see ghosts. What if we can all see them? I mean, would there be anyway for us to really know who the dead and who the living are?”

” Maybe.” Doc Treason said after a minute ‘We’re not supposed too.”

Murder Dog looked down at Miss Bixby. Then she looked up into Doc’s dark eyes  and smiled.

Doc Treason dropped her a wink.

And then they went to work.