Start Me Up

From The Write Brain Workbook: Start-Up

Complete the sentences ( in italics ) . Go back over the completed sentences and see if one or more prompts  to use in a story/poem.

I did a free write on the sentences and I think I have some winners!

Photo by Mark Neal on

After the storm, the frogs and stones that fell  from the sky made a mess on the highway that runs through the center of town.

As if in slow motion, I watched the truck in my rear view mirror sail into the rear end of my car. Abba was playing ” Take A Chance on Me ” on the stereo. I thought it was funny then and all of these years later  I still think it’s funny.

As soon as I stepped on the brake at the edge of the cliff,  I knew  I made a mistake.

At the fork in the road, I stopped walking to dig my grave. After I was done  I waited for something else to fill it with because  I am such a giver.

At Santa training school, Krampus was the guest speaker.

At the time it didn’t seem so risky, I was a fast runner and that train was just a dot on horizon.

Basking in the light of my Demon Dog’s eyes.

Behind the reflective sunglasses her eyes were sewn shut with gold and silver threads.

Being low on the totem pole means that nobody above me ever sees me until they fall down- and  a lot of them do- on a good day anyway.

Blushing red as a beet, Erin told the salesperson she didn’t need her phone and the expense  anymore because nobody ever called her.

Born into poverty, her parents wanted to make sure she lived in it until the day she died.

Bright flashes of light sped by me and then they turned back towards me, screaming.

Carl was a watchman at the Funeral Home I worked at. Sometimes he brought us all pizza or donuts. We all liked Carl. Me most of all because he kept my secrets.

Chewing on her fingernails was better then chewing on people’s necks and faces.

Clandestinely in my basement, I printed ” wanted ” posters for the ghost of the Mafia Boss who ran over my dog. He was out there and I wasn’t done with that scum sucker … yet.

Dressed in a turtle costume, why is he dressed in a turtle costumer the big game hunter thought as his head was torn away from his neck.

Drifting off into reality, the nightmare hoped for better days.

Even the Detectives who worked the hellish Biven’s case had nightmares about Efimia MacLeod.

Every afternoon while her baby slept, she had tea with her Grandmother in the attic with boxes of bones of jars of beating hearts.

Floating in the mouth of the river, was the last part of a dark secret named Daisy

Free as a kite, I ate pizza and walked to the mailbox at the end of my driveway and for a few minutes I didn’t think about screaming coming from my basement.

From the sidelines is my zip code.

Greta sent in the sweepstakes entry form and on her way back from the mailbox she was hit by a bus. She also won the grand prize in the sweepstakes but like her mangled corpse there was nobody to claim the prize.

Had she not mentioned the cat with the missing eye to the lady who sat next to her on the train, her house would not have been burned to the ground.

Hanging on the tree, from it’s lowest heaviest branch was a human jawbone and a lock of bleached blond hair.

He caught the trolley, but he didn’t catch the killer.

He spit out the jelly baby because it screamed in his mouth when he bit down.

Her fate was decided the moment  he  laughed and she saw the spider in his mouth

Her lower lip quivered when she looked in the mirror and she realized that face was hers now.


With You Always

She was broken,

we were broken

she meant nothing to me at all

in the end

he said sadly through a cloud of smoke

to his hot Mama, the Goddess

his true love

on the night of his final betrayal.


And they lived happily ever after

until she came back

from the dead and tracked the dirt they buried her in

right up







The Duck Pond

This was inspired by a Writing Prompt where you pick three spooky words and write a poem or story based on the words.

I chose Banshee, Corrupted and Creep.


Banshee blood

corrupted, cursed and revolting

it’s pooling in a pond where I used to feed  the ducks.


Who will cage it?

will anyone  swim in it?

Who will watch it creep towards the shore?

Will anybody grab a bucket, sponge scream out in fear

more likely then not

everyone will  pretend as if it’s not there.


Banshee blood

corrupt,  cursed and revolting

I wonder if the Ducks that I used to feed

wished it wasn’t there.


The Best Day Ever


The roaring in her ears finally stopped

and now

 she could hear music, her favorite

she heard Mozart.


The constant jostling and pulling and stretching stopped too

she didn’t have to run she could rest right where she was

at last she could take a deep breath and savor it.

Now she could smell the flowers, she could close her eyes

she could smile

because now

she was and will always be

The Beautiful Cadaver.




Photo A.M. Moscoso

We all know at least one child like Diwa Bell – some of us may have been like her in temperament ( quiet, thoughtful and well mannered to a fault ) and could be counted on- even at the young age of 11 to get her homework done and her bed made without being asked.

She feeds her pets at the same time each day, she gives them fresh water and leaves a post it on the refrigerator door to her parents attention when they are running low on food and she can be counted on to do last minute tasks for her Aunts and Uncles or important tasks like helping her Grandmother with chores at her house.

Last Saturday one of Diwa’s Aunties was supposed to take Grandmother Maria her weekly ‘care package artfully packed inside of a lunch box cooler.

As usual, Inside the sturdy little cooler with happy smiling turtles marching around the sides, was homemade butter with strawberries stamped on the top of the little golden ball, pink salt ( Diwa didn’t get that, it tasted like salt but the  color was pretty ) a selection of homemade fruit flavored salsas and thin water biscuits.

And of course there was always a selection of macaroons in Grandmother’s favorite colors- pink and purple.

Auntie Hyacinth was like Diwa, thoughtful, kind and well mannered to a fault and her baskets were always picture perfect.

On this particular Saturday  one of Auntie’s neighbors had an issue with her car and Diwa found a post it on the fridge door Saturday morning  asking if she wouldn’t mind stopping by Grandmother’s to drop off the care package and maybe spend a little time with Grandmother.

Diwa made a little note under the message and told her Mother she was off for the day and would be home before dinner, she stuck it to the door and went upstairs to get ready and a little while later she set out for Grandmother’s House.

There were two pluses to walking to Grandmother’s House.

One was that the walk wasn’t very long and second Diwa had to pass by a lot of gardens full of flowers and fake wells stuffed with more flowers and of course there were the fake deer and gnomes,  frogs ( the frogs were usually wearing crowns ), rabbits ( standing next to baskets of carrots )  and plastic Virgin Marys and Lawn Jockeys  galore.

Diwa loved those still, quiet and attentive plastic creatures, she always hoped against hope one of them would twitch an eye or move just a teeny tiny bit and the- well, Diwa wasn’t sure about the ” and then ” part but she it didn’t play in her thoughts.

For very long.

Photo by Simon Sikorski on

Grandmother’s house was the nicest little house on her street.

It looked like a little cottage from a Christmas card and almost everthing in side of it- including the curtains that hung in the windows which Grandmother always kept open just a crack, even in the dead of winter.

Diwa gave three quick little taps on the door and pushed it open and she stood there waiting for Grandmother’s cheery hello- but the house was quiet, it smelled wonderful because today was the day Grandmother did her baking, but it was so quiet.

” Is that you Diwa?” Grandmother called from the back of the house ” I’m sorry sweetness, I had a very big night and I took a little nap.”

Diwa went to the kitchen and set her basket down- she resisted the urge to take  peak in the oven to see what Grandmother had planned for lunch because Grandmother had strict rules about opening the oven door when she was baking or roasting. It affected the cooking she said.

” Grandmother, what are you baking? It smells so- ” Diwa thought for a moment ” It smells so tasty. Is it chicken?”

She went out to the hallway that led to the back of the house and for a minute or two Diwa looked as still and carefully placed as one of the yard statues she enjoyed watching so much.

” Darling, come on back here will you? I need some help getting up. I’m a little stiff, like I said I had a very big night.”

Grandmother’s bedroom was a warm and cozy as the rest of Grandmother’s house and as always it smelled faintly of apples.

She was laying on her bed and her eyes were closed but she opened them when Diwa appeared at the door.

” There she is, there’s my lovely girl.”

Diwa smiled and went to her Grandmother’s side and looked down into her face.

” Grandmother, your eyes look so red, have you been crying?”

” No, no, I was out so late and they are just a bit tired and old like me. But they are still sharp my lovely. I can see you perfectly and right now, that is all that matters”

Diwa reached down and with one finger pushed a lock of hair away from her Grandmother’s brow and behind her ear ” Grandmother, those are such pretty earrings I’m glad you wore them today.  ”

” I wore them just for you. I know how fond you are of the Moon and the stars. You’re a romantic, just like me.”

Then Grandmother smiled and Diwa gasped. ” You have such a great smile Grandmother. It lights up the room.”

Grandmother sat up and swung her legs over the bed. ” Now my darling, it’s lunch time and I am very hungry. I’ve been in the mood for something special, something a little rich and it most certainly not is chicken. In fact, I was up all night putting it together.”

Diwa reached down to help her Grandmother up. ” What did you make?”

Grandmother leaned down and whispered into her ear, ” I’ve made Shepherds Pie. And if I timed it right he should be ready for us by now.”

Photo A.M. Moscoso


Inspired By The SFC Prompt: Fractured Fairy Story

The Cold Kitchen

RDP Tuesday: pupil



everything taste better-

Lies are as sweet as chocolate drizzled  upon strawberries ripened to perfection.

Broken promises are coated in delicious creamy frosting smoothed with a skilled hand upon a mass of crumbling cake.

Betrayal is a cool drink in a chilled glass with a sprig of mint on the side and it is always served with a smile and a bow.

I learned this all

at the hands of a Master Chef

I was an apt pupil

in the kitchen of




I am ready to do some baking of my own.

The Face Of Summer

Final Thursday of Na/GloPoWriMo 2019 #25 :

  • Is specific to a season
  • Uses imagery that relates to all five senses (sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell)
  • Includes a rhetorical question, (like Keats’ “where are the songs of spring?”)


I love the summer

so say my friends

who love to wear flip flops and insist they only feel alive

when the Sun shines relentlessly in the sky  and the cool nights close in

and the crickets chirp and the nightingales sing.


Cool fruit flavored  drinks in hand, swathed in slick, thick  Sunscreen

the Summer air is heavy  with the sent  of charcoal fueled  barbeques and freshly washed cars and

backyard shampooed  dogs

all around them

they sit upon their plastic chairs  and  cry in agony,  ” I hate the  winter”

relentlessly like a broken record.


My Summer loving friends sing their praises to the Sun.

Shouldn’t they be singing them all to Ra?

Because every Summer I watch my friends

take one step closer,  they are  one Sunbeam nearer

to looking like the

unwrapped mummies

on a shelf in the Museum of  Cairo.


Hamish’s Artwalk

RDP Tuesday: CHALK

Here is my dog, Hamish Macbeth, enjoying some sidewalk chalk art in our neighborhood.

He seems to enjoy some pieces more them others, don’t you think?


Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.,M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso

The Family That Rock and Roll Together Stays Together

RDP Tuesday: Drop:  How do you photograph a hum? Or is there a picture that makes you hum or an idea.

Music has always been a big part of my life and in the life of my family.

We sing, we play instruments, we go to concerts- and the music we enjoy varies from one person to the next but in the end we all find something we love in what the other person enjoys too.

So here are some pictures that make me hum…and a few songs that popped into my head when I saw these particular pictures.



Luis and Julio Moscoso
Photo By A.M. Moscoso

Photo A.M. Moscoso