It had been fourteen days five months and one year since her last Ficlatté. She'd nearly forgotten how to write one. Most pieces she had been writing were Tweet length, capturing and enrapturing a new audience. Then there was the collection of short stori…

Squeak, squeak. The porch swing sways gently back and forth as my legs dangle to and fro. The evening breeze is cool as the sun sets on the ridge above the pasture.

The horses graze peacefully, stopping occasionally to look up in my direction, as if to s…

As I returned home, I was stunned to see that my house was full of lights and sound of merriment. The wedding that had called me away scarce had as much excited activity. It had only been eight days or so but even from the road, I could see the house was …

No invitations went out, none that I sent or saw anyway, but as the summer waned, travelers began trickling in. They stopped by with reasons to suit the individual: curiosity, rest, even for a cup of tea. They stopped and then they were gone. Each time my…

The house was still half-built, half-destroyed. It had never been completed and for every few hours of work I put into repairing it, it seemed like something new broke, or nature won another victory. Yesterday, a long brick wall that lined the dining hall…

The house appeared abandoned. It was spacious, boasting of what looked to be a dozen rooms, but falling apart. Broad windows, glass gray with dust. An iron plate set into the brick walls proclaimed the house as belonging to F. The massive front door was b…

Damaran wove through the crowd with a thumb in his belt and glare for anyone that would meet his eye. It was a calculated posture designed to ward off would-be thieves. The sly ones would note the proximity of his hand and the apparent thinness of his mon…