Guest Post: Abbie Johnson Taylor #SaturdaySurprise #Inspiration #ShortStories

Image contains: Abbie, smiling.Thanks to Beetley Pete for publishing my short story on his blog today. It was originally destined for a flash fiction contest sponsored by Wyoming Writers in which the prompt was “wide open spaces” and there was a 500-word limit. But as you’ll see, it morphed into a longer work. Enjoy!

beetleypete

I am delighted to have received a guest post from American blogger and writer, Abbie Johnson Taylor.
It is a short story.

STARTING OVER

Shelby gazed out the kitchen window at the barn and surrounding landscape, covered in winter snow. More flakes were falling from an overcast sky, cascading in swirls of white. It felt so good to be home. She’d always loved her parents’ ranch in Wyoming, the wide open spaces, the livestock, the wildlife, even the harsh winters, and wished she hadn’t left after marrying Ian. As a matter of fact, she wished she hadn’t married Ian at all.

The kitchen door opened, and her father came in, stomping the snow off his boots and closing the door. “Boy, it’s really coming down out there,” he said, removing his gloves and stuffing them in his coat pockets.”

Shelby turned to him with a smile and said, “Well, the…

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Guest Post: Abbie Johnson Taylor #SocialMediaMonday #Reblogs #Inspiration

Image contains: Abbie, smiling.Thanks to Beetley Pete for publishing my piece, “The Case of the Missing Lawn Chairs,” on his site. I wrote this recently for a memoir writing class I was taking that was taught by fellow author Glenda Beall who blogs at: http://profilesandpedigrees.blogspot.com/ Enjoy!

beetleypete

I am delighted to have received a guest post from wriiter and blogger, Abbie Johnson Taylor.
She describes it as ‘Creative non-fiction’. I enjoyed it, and I am sure all of you will too.

THE CASE OF THE MISSING LAWN CHAIRS

by Abbie Johnson Taylor

“Somebody stole our lawn chairs!” Dad announced.

For many years during the summer months, my family attended weekly band concerts at Kendrick Park in Sheridan, Wyoming, on Tuesday evenings after dinner. We brought lawn chairs and listened to the community band playing old standards, marches, and popular songs. Afterward, we trekked to a nearby ice cream stand for dessert, leaving our lawn chairs stashed behind a tree out of the way, sure in the knowledge that they would still be there when we returned to claim them before walking home. But now, all we could do was gape at the empty spot where we expected…

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Distant Memories #FridayFinds #Reblogs #Inspiration

Image contains: Abbie, smiling.

I’m sure we all have some snatches of recollection from our early childhood. My mother once told me my first word was ashtray. My first memory of my father was of him cursing a blue streak. I’m not sure if this happened, but I can picture myself as a toddler, crying out in delight, reaching for the glass ashtray on the table next to Dad’s chair, accidentally knocking it to the floor where it broke into a million pieces, leaving my poor, dear father with a   burning cigarette and nowhere to dispose of the ashes.

In the post I’m sharing today, Pete offers some bits and pieces from his own early childhood. After you read this post, maybe you’d like to share anything you remember from those early days, either here or on Pete’s blog. I hope you enjoy this trip down Memory Lane.

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Recently, distant memories have started to appear in my mind, like watching an old newsreel clip for the briefest time. They are always childhood memories, mere snapshots of when I was very young, little more than a toddler. As I don’t remember many specifics before I started school at the age of five, those earliest memories fascinate me. They show that memory starts much earlier than I had ever considered.

 

Read the full post here.

 

 

Nice Times (3) #WordPressWednesday

Fellow blogger Beetley Pete lives in the English countryside. But in this post, he shares memories of his life in London. Enjoy!

beetleypete

As much as I enjoy living in the countryside now, I will always be a Londoner. This post is about some beloved memories of that city.

An intimate gig at the famous Soho Jazz club, Ronnie Scott’s. It finished late, and after the club closed we walked across the street and were lucky enough to get a table outside the iconic Bar Italia coffee bar. Sitting on the pavement, heated by patio heaters, drinking lukewarm espresso at inflated prices. Watching the world go by in London at night. And then I had a glass of Grappa. Fabulous.

Standing on an almost deserted Waterloo Bridge, very early in the morning. Facing east, looking at one of the best views in London as the sun rose behind Tower Bridge. I loved being a Londoner that morning.

An evening trip on The London Eye (big wheel by the river) for my 49th birthday…

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First Line Fiction (12) #WordPressWednesday

Fellow blogger Beetley Pete has been participating in a daily fiction challenge where he’s given a first line and must complete the story from there. Today’s contribution reminds me of a time when I flew from Wyoming to Florida to visit my brother and couldn’t make it to Billings, Montana, to catch my flight. Enjoy!

beetleypete

The first line of this fictional short story was sent to me by one of my longest and very best blogging friends, Cindy Bruchman. A published author and blogger, Cindy lives in Arizona, USA, where she works as a teacher. https://cindybruchman.com/

“On a bitterly cold January morning, after saving for two years, he had enough money to buy a plane ticket to Arizona to visit his friend Cindy.”

Travelling in an English winter was never going to be easy, and the day didn’t start out well. Pete had to get to Heathrow Airport, just west of London, and that was one hundred and thirty miles from his home in Beetley.

And there was something else. That old Jimmy Webb song sung by Glen Campbell was playing on repeat in his head.

“By the time I get to Phoenix…”

As well as a flight of over fourteen hours to anticipate, there…

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