Author: Caleb Jacobo
You are a true un-wit and a gentle beast…we love you dearly, old friend.
We sat and dripped sweat in the honey heat, listened to Mic D on the upright, and Mama Tracery checked on each table one by one.
March 29, 2013
The man pointed to a cardboard sign in his other hand that read, 'HUNGRY'.
“I can’t believe we made it out of there for under thirty bucks,” Delilah said.
March 26, 2013
A clear package of tomatoes fell and scattered in all directions. "You know I wasn't at work."
I sat on the couch with a glass of two-dollar Cabernet. Sheldon came in at twelve forty-five with his shoulder’s rolled forward and back facing me. His head hung to one side as he fumbled at the lock. I didn’t cry, crying ends it before we can begin. I needed him to hear this. And like it or not, the drink might help. I asked him how work was.
March 23, 2013
All hands to your mizzenmast!
Prompt: One good turn deserves another. —Aesop’s Fables
March 20, 2013
Stole? You're a crazy woman, what could I possibly want from you?
Here is a scene sketch I wrote this morning. Enjoy!
March 18, 2013
A dozen proud pines stunk and softened along the river's edge, back to the open earth after half a millennium.
Prompt: River Cliffs
March 16, 2013
Life here is actually very pleasant once you find your things.
The roar woke me from the best dream I’d ever had. I was home, in the dream, and my red towel was there, and Sis, and me. I was there, but I could see myself like I was Blackdog standing over me on the couch. I rolled and kicked a cushion out of place. I rolled again and tore the corner of my towel. It was a normal day. Everything was perfect. Then the roar woke me up and the old growl bubbled in my chest.
March 13, 2013
I have a thing for you to do Humbert, a thing I can’t ask of the other officers…
The sun hung a yellow sash across Decon’s back, but stripped it when his office door rattled shut. “Do you know what it means to be Deputy?”
March 10, 2013
Cypress boughs creeked in the dim…
Cypress boughs creaked in the dim; their pale green leaves danced with broken moonlight conducted by the insect ballad. The warm air lifted the smell of rot and damp wood. Montgomery sat at the edge of the buoyed pier, with his nose just above the opaque water. Behind him, orange lamp light pulsed from the porch of a wooden shack, white and grey with age; tied down here and patched there where the swamp had started to creep in. The sound of boots made Montgomery turn. A man in dripping knee high rubber boots crouched beside him and shook his collar with scratches.
March 9, 2013
…she doesn't just cry, but other things too that give me heavy shoes.
Here is a quick morning prompt for you. Enjoy!
March 6, 2013