Stories in the Wall

Writing prompts created by Kellie Elmore at . Prompt is an image prompt from Kellie.

Image Credit: We Heart It

Image credit: We heart it.

Depleted is the old, abandoned home. If walls could talk, the stories it would tell. Although it is hard to extrapolate what tales are hidden in the walls, there is that sense that it has many. A long-lived home that has taken its toll. Foot steps tread lightly of a spirit left behind. Just to stroll near it sends goose bumps, a chilling to the spine. It’s neglected, aged and deteriorated, withered by weather. The old, abandoned home with many stories.

Train Ride

Writing prompts created by Kellie Elmore at Should you wish to join, click on the link and follow the instructions.

This Friday, January 31, 2014, is a word prompt for inspiration: Train – Burlap – Fiction – Pearls – Vertigo

Any or all of the words may be used.


A cool, fall breeze blew. It was Friday and every Friday I took the train home for the weekend. It was my break away from college life. I’d feel vertigo by the week’s end from overload and stress from late night studying would give me major home sick blues.

I paced to keep warm. The train was always on time and as usual, I was 15 minutes early. By this time I would usually be ready to get on board and warm up but it was five minutes after 7 when I finally heard the whistle blow.

“Finally,” I remember whispering under my breath. My arms were crossed and I was rubbing them to keep the circulation flowing. As soon as the train stopped and the doors opened, I scurried in. Pulling out my ticket from my pocket, handing it, I walked on and took a seat. I had a small overnight bag with me. I pulled out my pocketbook, the pearl of life that released the overloaded brain. A train pulling boxcars was already coming in as we headed out. We were usually long gone by the time the other train came in. After staring out the window for a minute or two, I managed to put my head down and start reading. It took me some time to get into the fictional characters again.

He lain on the burlap rug with Maggie. The lights dim…”Why do you have to go?”

“Get your ass over?” a voice sounded from behind.

I tried to zone it out. Then a baby started to cry.

“shut that baby up.” I then heard. “hon’ relax.” a woman’s voice said softly.

I heard a loud rumble. I thought, “What an ass.” I rolled my eyes, shook my head, my mouth tense, before putting my head back down to read again. A woman walked by with her infant as she made her way to the restroom. The baby still crying. I glanced up at here and gave her a sympathetic smile and put my head back down. I tried desperately to get back into the book.

The baby’s radiating squeal flowed through the paper-thin walls.

“Someone shut that baby up.” I heard that man yell again.

I couldn’t believe it: the late train, the loud mouth, the baby, ugh.

I was still trying to get back into my book when the whistle bellowed. I looked and we were there. I was so happy. I slammed the book down on my lap and bent over to grab my bag. I angrily got off the train.

There stood my father waiting. He had a big smile. I could feel my shoulders slowly relax as the tension faded by the smile. I smiled back as I walked up to him and gave him a big hug. He appeared to be taken aback.

My Contribution

Writing prompts created by Kellie Elmore at Should you wish to join, click on the link. More info to the prompt can also be found there. This is from Apple’s latest ad. To see it go to Kellie’s blog and click on the ad there.

The following is the speech for (Free Write/Writing Friday) FWF prompt.” What will your verse be?”

“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beautyfwf kellie elmore badge, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, “O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?” Answer. That you are here – that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play *goes on* and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?” — John Keating (Robin Williams) Dead Poets Society


 My Contributed Verse

I spread thy wings

early morning arising

to fulfill a longing

desireth for growing

for I was born to live

life to its fullest

in pursuit

for which the heart cravith

S.L.S Oborowsky – All rights reserved, 2014

Blood Moon

Writing prompts created by Kellie Elmore at for Free Writing Friday (FWF)

This week’s writing prompt is Blood Moon by Mark for Kellie. Thank you Mark for the great prompt. Hope you enjoy! I’d like to wish Kellie my deepest thought and a big thank you for the prompts. I would have loved to have been a part of the card or short book of poems and such but I had not been on the net much to participate in last weeks prompt. Glad things are improving for Khole,

October 30, 2013 the blood moon shines it’s bloody temptation as bright as the harvest moon in the early morning of autumn. The wolves thirst for blood while hunters thirst for game.

It is a cool, calm morning. Gerry and Darwin are in their orange caps and camouflage suits. The wives warn not to go. It is said it is the year of the attack of hunter against the hunter but Gerry and Darwin ignore them. They get into their big, 4-wheel GMC truck and head out into the early morning dew. When arriving into the old, narrow road leading into the deep of the woods, Darwin parks the truck as far as he could drive into it. They pull their guns out and head down the trails.

“I’ll go down this trail.” Gerry points.

“Okay. Good luck and shoot to kill my friend.”

“First one to get the game shoots two more to direct the other. May the best man win.” Gerry waves as he disappears into the woods.

“See you in ten minutes.” Darwin replies as he walks another direction, v-ing off into the woods.

Ten minutes and a bang is heard. Darwin turns but no other shot is heard. He stands waiting for another five minutes. He decides to ignore the shot and walks on, searching for his prey. Another shot is heard and Darwin begins tracking the sounds. He hears crunching of leaves behind him. He turns and calls, “Gerry?” an echo repeats but it falls silent. He begins to walk again and the sound of someone following begins again. Darwin stops again. Looks around but there is silence. He starts to walk faster toward the area he heard the shot and the crushing sound of leaves begin again. “Gerry?” still no reply. No other gunshot again. Darin turns to look back but he sees no one. “Gerry?” still no reply. Darwin decides to turn toward the sound of the crushing leaves. “Gerry, okay stop.” Darwin keeps walking but the sound of someone following sounds like it’s behind him again. Darwin begins to feel confused. He turns and walks back the other way where he thought the gunshot came from. A half hour gone by and he hasn’t found Gerry. He hears crushing sounds and sees a shadow in deep. Waiting for it to pop up in front of him, he stands breathing shallow, gun up and aiming into the woods. “Boo!” Out pops Gerry.

“You…” Darwin curses. “What the heck? I could have shot you!” Gerry laughs hysterically. “I got the big one.” Darwin follows. They load it. A wolf stands watching them get into the truck and drive off. Blood dripping from his mouth.

“Why didn’t you answer or fire three shots?”

“I hit it but it started to run and had to chase it. That’s the second shot that killed it.”

Shower of Sadness

Writing prompts created by Kellie Elmore at for Free Writing Friday (FWF)

This weeks writing prompt is an image prompt courtesy of Kelly for which we are to create a story or poem from. Thank you Kellie for the prompts. Anyone interested in following Kelly, please click on the link and visit her there.

Jackson Wedding

It is an occasion, her occasion, but my heart aches as I watch her walk gracefully. I should be cheering and celebrating with her but I can’t. I fake a smile as she walks by.

Savannah Jacobson, an elegant woman of grace, had been my friend since childhood.  We always said we’d merry on the same day and children who’d play together. However, I haven’t found Mr. Right and she is already having her first child already.

I could hear laughing fading as my though deepens. I feel like I’m losing a friend as she moves to a place I feel I don’t fit in. A gathering of mommies and children displace me. A tap on my shoulder jolts me back to the now.

“Oh, Savannah.”

“Hi, sorry I’m not ignoring you.”

“It’s fine. I know you’re busy with everything. Is the gift I got you okay?”

“I love it. Thank you. Is everything okay Rebecca?”


“I’ve known you all my life. Please.”

“Yes, everything is fine.” I deny. I give her a big smile.

I know she doesn’t believe me but she leaves it at that.

Her sister interrupts, “Everyone we are going to play a little game.”

She has our attention and I feel like sneaking way. Savannah taps my leg. “You have to join in.”

“I really would like to just watch if you don’t mind Savannah. I’m not much of a game player you know that.”

“It’ll be fun.”

“If everyone would please come up to the craft table.”

Savannah grabs my hand and pulls me. I follow with dread.

“The object of the game is to create a mask and the best mask wins by popular vote. There are feathers, beads, sparkles, glue and masquerade masks. Please go ahead and start as soon as I say go and I will begin the timer. As soon as the buzzer goes off, stop whatever you are doing. May the best mask win. Everyone ready, go!.”

I dive right in and divulge myself into the craft. I begin to release all the negative as the time ticks. A half hour later, the buzzer goes off. I have a masterpiece. I am quite impressed. Savannah looks over and smiles. I give her a real smile. I feel so silly for thinking so awful.

“It wasn’t so bad was it.” she whispers.

“No, thank you.”

“Our friendship doesn’t change Rebecca.”

“How’d you know?”

“I know you. I know you feel out of place. You don’t have to.”

I give her a big hug.


Writing prompts created by Kellie Elmore at for Free Writing Friday (FWF)

This weeks prompt is a fall word bank using the words – foliage, amber, wicker, aroma, sweater, cocoa

I’m excited for this one because I love Kellie’s choice of words.  I am titling it Fall


It’s beautiful out. The sunflower cheers up the garden and the amber, red, orange colors of fall are everywhere. Fall foliage – spread thickly – covers the grass. The air is nippy. A warm cup of cocoa and a sweater have one thing in common, warm my chilled body as I prepare to rake. I make my way to the apple tree. It is full of decaying apples. As I begin raking, the aroma carries with the breeze. It smells like the applesauce I just finished canning.

This whole month had been busy with fall chores. The last of the apples turned into applesauce were in a large wicker basket on my counter top until yesterday. I had started with the canning and freezing early September. I’m relieved that I’m at the final stage of fall chores. I get to enjoy this time before snow falls and hibernating through winter. Although I enjoy the fall with the beautiful colors, the crushing sound of the leaves when I walk and the cocoa, I still enjoy spring when it comes. I think they are my two favorite seasons but if I had to pick one, it’d be spring when the warm weather begins to return and new life sprouts.

That Gift that Held a Special Place

It’s FWF, I’m late again, and Friday’s prompt is to write about a special gift. Writing prompts created by Kellie Elmore at

Banana bike photo courtesy of Wikipedia

I was turning ten and birthday gifts were a rarity. It was midsummer. Beautiful out. Mom arrived home from town with a bike, no bow. I was so excited. It was a banana bike. Everyone I knew wanted one. I felt privileged. I don’t think I even went in the house. I had begun teaching myself to ride. I remember having an unsteady wheel and practicing until I could ride. It’s so long ago that I can’t even remember if I had any help at first. Then I remember riding all over town. I was out from dusk till dawn many days. I was so obsessed with it.

It was near summer’s end. I went out for my usual bike ride. I remember that feeling as if it was just yesterday. I was hurt. The bike was gone. I only had it that one summer and someone had stolen it. It was a memory I never forgot. Every summer came and every summer I missed my bike. I wanted to ride again but I never got another chance.

The banana bike, a gift that held a special place in my heart, was taken before I could bore myself of it. Every time I saw someone riding, I’d miss my bike. It was a once in a life time experience. One that took me a long time to get over.

The Ivy Covered Gate

It’s FWF, I’m late, and Friday’s prompt is to pick a title out of six choices so I chose the title “The Ivy Covered Gate” from Kellie Elmore at


When darkness fell, bats swarmed around the gate. They protected the death that lied beyond. A well-worn path led to the depleted dwelling. Rumor had it a wizened women roamed it now and then. “No trespassing” signed allured the children to the path, but no one dared to enter through the ivy covered gate. The branches undressed, bare of leafs had been cast into darkness.

Shadows of mysterious shapes loomed at dawn and when night fell and the bats came out, the children were nowhere to be found lingering the ivy covered gates leading to doom.

The only child who had ever entered was said to have never been seen from again.

Did it really have a fatal consequence if entered? No one really knew. It was all based on speculation. Do you want to go through the ivy covered gate?

My Name is John

It’s FWF and today’s prompt is an image prompt.

Photo by Kellie Elmore for this Friday’s prompt for which the story will be about. His name is John so I’m going to title it as that.

walmart man

My Name is John

I grew up a broken man and when my wife left and my children wished nothing of me, I became a bitter man.

I could blame it on my father, that drunken son of a bitch but I was an adult who made the same mistakes.

Let me go to where it all began. I took to the bottle when I was 16, stole it from my passed-out father who drowned his sorry ass in a bottle of rum. It wasn’t always like that. It wasn’t until after my mother died of leukemia, a poor excuse for a man. But, it was what it was. I learned from him. Use the bottle to get you through to tomorrow.

When I met my wife, she had no idea how bad it was. It wasn’t what I had planned. I thought, if I had a wife, it would all come together. Before long, I was drinking in front of my family. She left me three years later of threats. I was angry. Quit my job. Cursed every woman I saw. It wasn’t until I was broke and desperate before I sobered. A hard hit of reality.

I don’t have my family anymore but that bitter man left with the bottle. I sit alone and take in the world in a different perspective. I wish it had been there when I had a chance to give my family a father they deserved.


Famous Last Words for FWF by Kellie Elmore at
I’m late because I had to read a book but it was worth it as I hadn’t been reading more than blogs lately.




The road winds it’s sometimes soft curve to a sharp winding bend

throwing life into a tailspin

Ripples of bubbling tar in the heat of the day burn like a scarred soul

The cracks are signs of wear and tear but life’s little pleasures and blessing seem worth the time we had spent for even as short a time as we have had

Inspired by the book Before I Wake by Robert J Wiersema

“There were three stones I gave to Mommy before the accident…three stones in Mommy’s pocket…three stones on the windowsill…where the people came to see me.