Saturday Centus - Cindy's Revenge

Jenny has thrown us a minor curve ball this week for Saturday Centus. Yes, we have a written prompt to use. And yes, we have up to 100 words. BUT - the prompt must be used in a poem. That rhymes! ARGHH! I've never written poetry in my life! I had planned to continue my haunted house story based on this week's prompt. When I saw Jenny's instructions, I almost threw up my hands. But then I started thinking... I know, I know, that can be dangerous. Click here and here if you want the back story on this. Click here to read all the entries from this week and to learn the rules that Centusians must live by. The prompt is in bold font. My apologies in advance to all the great poets out there.

Sassy Girl

I stomped my foot and threw a fit

So dang mad I thought I'd spit

I want to go and have some fun

You know I can, you've seen me run

No girls allowed Frankie said

Smiling, patting me on the head!

I'll show him I'm not a chicken

But if he catches me, I'm in for a lickin'

He didn't hear me slip in the back

Time to launch my sneak attack

Locked the door to the murder room

Hid in the closet with the brooms

Hearing his shouts, I laughed with glee

I may be a girl, but you can't catch ME!

Saturday Centus - Haunted House? Part Two

I couldn't resist. This was such a fun prompt, and I couldn't let the boys run screaming into the night without knowing what was in that house. So I've written a second story. Same prompt, same rules. Don't have a clue what I'm talking about? Click here to read the first part of this story. Click here to visit Jenny and her amazing band of Centusians for Saturday Centus!

Haunted House? Part two

With the curtain parted, Frankie watched the boys run screaming down the street. Laughed so hard he got a bellyache. Nobody was going to win 5 bucks from him, even if it meant sneaking into this creepy old place to play a prank on his little brothers. What goobers! Greg probably wet his pants when that curtain moved, and Bill took off so fast Frankie swore his sneakers were smoking. Now he just had to slip out without being seen. If the folks knew he'd been in the Sawyer place, they'd tan his hide.

Funny, he didn't remember locking that door behind him...

Saturday Centus - Haunted House?

My favorite day of the week is Saturday. Even when I have to work! Why? Because that means it's time for another edition of Saturday Centus. Jenny Matlock at Off On My Tangent hosts this fun event every week. I don't know that I've ever thanked Jenny for letting my muse run free. Sure, I've been writing since I was in high school (back in the dark ages. You know, when dinosaurs roamed the earth and all that) but I never, ever let anyone read my work. Until I met Jenny. She gives us a prompt. We then write a short (and I do mean short) story of 100 words or less. This has been so much fun, and it's given me the kick in the pants I needed to start writing again. And my fellow Centusians? The greatest group of people you will ever meet. I don't think I have ever read a nasty comment from any of them. Well, except when Tom gets going on the South. But I know he says those things out of love. Really. I think he is a closet Reb. "Me thinks he doth protest too much" and all that jazz. HA! Seriously though, join us! It's so much fun, and it's a great outlet for pent up creativity. Jenny leaves the link live for the entire week, so what are you waiting for? This week Jenny has given us a nice little prompt, beautiful in it's simplicity. Can't wait to see what everyone does with it. The prompt is in bold italics. Enjoy!

The decrepit old Victorian stood sentinel on it's hill, daring anyone to come near. Greg and Bill crept up the crumbling brick walk, determined to get into the old Sawyer place. Frankie had bet them 5 bucks they couldn't stay the night. "That place is full of haints, you won't last a minute!" With the moon lighting their way, they walked up sagging porch steps. Hearts pounding, they glanced up at the second floor window, where old man Sawyer went nuts and chopped his family to pieces. The curtain parted. Their screams echoed all the way down Catfish Alley as they ran home.