SPORT
An activity involving physical exertion and skill in which an individual or team competes against another or others for entertainment.
NOW you can call Deer hunting a “sport”
Month: July 2025
Prompts!
I don’t know how to use Tarot Cards, but these make great stand alone writing prompts!
The Gingerbread People
OLWG#425 Prompt: Others Do It Faster
Edward Hopper – Two Puritans, 1945
I pass the same people on my route every single day.
One lady, she wears a green Carhart jacket, wears sensible walking shows and she has knock-knees, she zips up Elm Street to catch the bus on Meridian. You might think that walking would be a chore for her being that her knees touch and all but it doesn’t slow her down a single step. She flies up to her bus stop. She flies because she is in a hurry.
Everyone on my route is.
There is a man that I pass who owns a one of those corner grocery stores that sell chicken pieces and burritos that are kept warm under a light bulb and off brand snacks at the counter. The shop windows are dirty and covered with rusted bars and the door has decals warning you that he won’t sell you beer if you’re under 21 and a hand written sign informing you that there is no public restroom.
Most of the food stuffs on the shelves are past their expiration dates, the companies that made the shampoos and soaps went out of business ten years ago but none of that matters because the coolers that line the walls are new and they shine and they hum and they are stuffed with every kind of cheap beer that the world has to offer.
The man ( none of his customer’s know his name, they just assume it’s Glen because the name of the shop is Glen’s Mart) who owns the store rushes into work every morning, I have a feeling that he wears the same clothes everyday and probably sleeps in an easy chair patched with duct tape and that it’s not a an alarm that wakes him.
It’s something in his head that says, ‘ Go. Go. Go.’
So he goes, he runs as fast as he can, just like the Gingerbread Man.
Kids are always in a hurry on my route.
They race from their parent’s cars ( they don’t walk or ride bikes anymore ) out one door and straight into another- sometimes the doors are in their schools, or sometimes the shopping mall. Kids may not be as adventurous as they were in the past, but it’s wired into them. They zip from screen to screen on their phones and computers and tablets.
Kids race along my route faster then anybody. It’s a shame really. They’re missing so much.
All of that racing.
All of that rushing.
I don’t race and I don’t rush.
Instead I walk, and sometimes I ride my horse and sometimes I glide like the shadow that I am from tree to tree, from door to door. Sometimes I knock but I always find my way in-
today I am on my way to visit the lady with bad knees t- I have been following her since the day she took her first breath and I will be with her when she takes her last.
The kids zipping and rushing from one screen to another are on my route too and eventually I will collect them and theeven man who owns the corner store.
I don’t have to rush.
I have all of the time in the world to get to the places I am going.
Edward Hopper – Two Puritans, 1945
Remember
OLWG# 425 Prompt: What the hell was I thinking?
– John Atkinson Grimshaw
One Summer I helped my Great Grandma Agnella move some of her paintings and portraits covered in dust cloths from the basement to her sitting room. That was the last Summer Nan would be with us and I’m guessing that’s why she wanted the pictures upstairs where she could see them.
I brought them to where she was sitting in her rocking chair near the window, she examined each one after I uncovered it, she looked around the room and told me where to hang them.
” You know, we Macdowells were the first in town to have modern conveniences like cars and television sets and even in door plumbing. But do you know what we didn’t have?” Nan asked me.
My Nan sat in her chair, working her jaw from side to side- her face was wrinkley and she was pale but her green eyes were unnaturally bright.
I could tell that this one thing that we didn’t have really, really did bothered her.
” A family portrait. I couldn’t get my sister or my Dad my good for nothing Uncle George to sit for a family portrait. I had pictures of their dogs and cars and a cabin that we had up on Camano Island, but no family portraits and EVERYBODY around here had at least one of those. Everybody except for us. ”
When Nan said ” except ” I could hear her grinding her teeth together.
To be honest, I couldn’t imagine anyone on this side of the Grave telling Nan ” no ” for any reason.
Artist: Jack Dawson
I hung the pictures as the afternoon wore on and it did take time because the pictures had to be hung in exactly the right spot. I didn’t mind putting the time in. I’m kind of particular about things myself.
Finally there was one last portrait left and it was covered in a gray sheet. It had a little mold on it.
“Well Cami, eventually I got what I wanted.”
That came as no surprise to me.
” I got them to sit for a family portrait. I kept telling them it wouldn’t kill them to dress halfway decent and sit for a picture but guess what. ”
She reached out and slid the cover off of the picture of her Dad and her Sister and her good for nothing Uncle sitting on the settee that is still in her living room. Their eyes were closed and they looked dusty and very , very dead.
” It did kill them- what can I say? Most of the time I’m right but sometimes I’m wrong.”
Midjourney creations and styles by Irina Shamaeva