Be inspired and write a poem, haiku or story that is inspired by the photo above.
Please link what you have written in the comment box below so we can enjoy what you have written.
copyrighted image by award winning photographer -Steven Slack
Really appreciate meeting excellent bloggers through the A to Z challenge. Looking forward to reading more of your blogs in the coming weeks.
I wish I (Moondustwriter) could tell you about the life of my friend Steve Slack. Suffice it to say, he has had an unusual life which has resulted in great stories.
Recently Steve was diagnosed with ALS (there is no cure) and his friends are working at publishing and producing some of his work.
Each of you and your comments have helped encouraged him to keep writing.
Steve might participate again with the A to Z challenge in 2023…
He will definitely come by and visit bloggers that have visited.
Steve thanks you for your visits and your feedback.
Thank you A to Z team for hosting this event.
keep an eye out for Steve Slack’s books. Look for “Lifeblood of the Dragon” in the next several months. Hazard Point is another title to look for…
We are going to start a weekly photo prompt for writers just starting out all the way to the seasoned word smith. Here is the challenge: using the photograph below write a haiku that’s 5/7/5 (syllables) or a 55 word short story. Both of these writing formats have improved my writing by 100 percent. By all means have some fun…
Please link what you have written in the comment box below so we can enjoy what each of you have written.
“That year, Zeus runs in the United States. Franks being a half-assed trainer, shows mediocre results. Finished eleventh two weeks earlier. Zeus is going to run at Bellemont. He makes the second race, and wins by four lengths and pays one-hundred and sixteen dollars. Ol’ Cash heads for the fifty-dollar window at the clubhouse. He has fifteen hundred dollars in win tickets, plus six hundred dollars to show. He walks away with eighty-thousand dollars in winnings.”
“If I were a betting man, I’d bet that Justine Calloway and Ziggy Franks made a killin’ making an off-track bet,” Orrin said.
“That’s my point. If Tripod is a dead-ringer to Cash’s horse. He could collect another mountain of money off the insurance company, but only if Tripod dies.”
“Then I reckon I better get a little surprise ready for them when they come,” Orrin said, with a grin.
Later, Orrin takes Tripod’s horse blanket and dusts a powder from the Stinging Tree branches and leaves. Orrin knows it will enrage the horse. But he has to do that to save his life.
Two nights later, Cash shows up to the stable in a truck, pulling a horse trailer. Ziggy Franks is behind the wheel.
“I’ve been thinking about that horse I sold you a couple of years back. I’ll tell you true, I’ve been missing that horse. I’ll pay you fifty dollars to get that horse back,” Cash said.
“He’s not for sale,” Orrin said.
“Maybe this will help change your mind,” Cash said, producing a revolver. “The only reason that horse is still alive is that he has value to me. I can’t say the same for you.”
Ziggy Franks entered Tripod’s stall, and placed the bridle in his mouth. Backing him out, leading him out of the barn into the trailer. Cash wadded the money into a ball and threw it into Orrin’s face.
“If you don’t keep your mouth shut, you’ll end up in the same dog food processing plant as your horse.”
“If you’re going to transport him in a trailer, put on his blanket…keeps him from getting fussy,” Orrin said offhandedly.
Cash slipped the revolver into his coat pocket, grabbed the horse blanket and headed for the trailer. Thirty seconds after he threw the blanket on Tripod’s back, he bucked when the shock of the hairs embedding themselves in his back. The more it hurt, the more he fought. It took less than ten seconds for Tripod to kick Cash and Ziggy to death.
This has been a month long journey with the A to Z challenge. Each day the letter is the prompt for my short stories themed: “Thirty Ways to Kill …”
And keep on the lookout for my upcoming novel – “Lifeblood of the Dragon.” Lifeblood is set in the seedy alleys of post-war Los Angeles. The morgue is full more often than not. Cameo appearances by the well known gangster Mickey Cohen and his goons.
Thanks to each of you for your input. This has helped us (friends of Steve) in our decision making as we publish and also put some of his stories in TV or radio series. He thanks each of you!!
Orrin Crear worked as a stable hand at a ranch that produced champions. He had a gift for choosing winners. Bookies paid him money for tips on horses.
“Crear was always right.” They said.
Cash Dakuten was a breeder who travelled the world looking for the best. One foal in his stable was born with a deformed rear foot. He ordered Orrin to put him down. Instead, Orrin signed paper and paid two-dollars for the cripple. Orrin named the colt Tripod. Each day he would walk Tripod then after cooling him down he’d massage his foot and rub Hyjonda Conqueror’s root on his leg. At night he would pray to Saint Lazarus.
“Don’t you worry none, just let Saint Lazarus do his work,” Orrin purred.
As a yearling, Orrin started trotting Tripod. In another three months, Tripod was cantering. At By the end of the season, he was ready to run on the track.
“He rides like the wind. I shouldn’t say anything, but your hoarse is the spitting image of the one Cash Dakuten’s got. He finds out you got him, he’ll be down here to steal him from you,” Phil the jockey warned.
“I bought him fair and square from Mr. Dakuten for two dollars on the barrel head. I got a bill of sale signed by him. He can think what he wants. Tripod ain’t for sale!” Orrin said.
“I heard last year he goes down to Brazil and buys two horses different from salt and pepper. Zeus is four years old and won no race he’s been in. He earned seven hundred and change the first year he runs. I hear Cash buys him for twelve hundred dollars. The other horse he buys named Jupiter, a world-class sprinter. A winner of seven out of eight this year. He lost by a nose to Starlight, the Pan American Champion his last time out. He plunks down eighty-five thousand dollars and has both shipped back here. The thing most people find odd is those horses are identical.”
That night Cash was on a ship headed to New York. He sent a cable to Ziggy Franks, a has-been trainer who gets a Western Union Check for Ten thousand dollars. Franks hooks up with a multi-millionaire named Justine Calloway, who lives in Bayshore, NJ. He arranges the sale, sight unseen for two-hundred and fifty thousand bucks. They shipped both horses to Calloway’s farm. The night both horses arrive, Jupiter dies of croup. Before they report it to the insurance company, they whisked away Jupiter to the dog food factory. Calloway collects on a two-hundred-thousand-dollar insurance policy.”
What happened to the other horse… Zeus?” Orrin asked.
Part two of story tomorrow: Zeus
This is a month long journey with the A to Z challenge. Each day the letter is the prompt for my short stories themed: “Thirty Ways to Kill …”
And keep on the lookout for my upcoming novel – “Lifeblood of the Dragon.” Lifeblood is set in the seedy alleys of post-war Los Angeles. The morgue is full more often than not. Cameo appearances by the well known gangster Mickey Cohen and his goons.
So much can be said with the eyes…
It’s one of last A to Z challenges.
As we are wrapping up the month of blogging – what will you miss?
I will miss sharing and meeting some awesome bloggers.
“I think we should get casino security involved.”
“No need. I’d hate to be with him when bad karma finds him,” she said, leaning over and kissing me.
The next Sunday, I was working at the bar when Johnny Quinn sat down. He looked ill.
“How you doing, Johnny?” I asked. I could see that he was out of sorts. “Blue Label?”
“Water.”
“Sure thing, I said, filling the glass at the gun.”
When he collapsed off the chair, I mashed my emergency button, and dashed to the customer side of the bar He was still conscious when the Paramedics arrived. They whisked him away. After they left, I noticed they forgot his coat. On my break, I took it to the hat check where Jayna was working.
“Looked like you had a little excitement over at the bar.” she smiled.
“Johnny, your favorite customer. It looks like heart problems. Here, he forgot his coat.”
“I’ll give you the check. You can give it to him when he comes back.”
Three weeks later, Johnny returned to my bar.
“Andy, you saved my hide. He said. “I wanted to thank you for what you did.” He said as he wadded a hundred-dollar bill and stuffed it in my pocket.
“It’s no big deal… before I forget, I checked your coat into the coat check station. Here’s the coat-check ticket.”
“Thanks, it’s an expensive coat, I wondered what happened to it.”
“Are you going to hit the Craps tables?”
“Yeah, now I found my jacket. I just might throw a few times. The doctor said that I shouldn’t get too excited. But one little throw won’t hurt.”
Johnny picked up his ticket and retrieved his jacket. He headed over to the Craps table. Before he could make a bet, he passed out and did a face plant. The grimace on his face looked like he was in a lot of pain. He was dead before he got to the hospital. I guess it wasn’t okay to get excited after all.
After work, I picked up Jayna, and we drove back to my place.
“Your customer came and picked up his jacket at around ten,” she said.
“Yeah, he stopped by the bar and thanked me, tipped me a honey to show his thanks. Even though the doctors told him not to get too excited, he headed for the tables.”
“I have a confession to make.”
“About what?”
“I want through Johnny’s Pockets when you brought me the coat. I always do a complete inventory, sometimes I find cash or valuables. I tell the floor boss and we double count it and place it in the safe.”
“Did you find anything valuable this time?”
“A pair of loaded dice, and guess what? I tossed and they came up seven.”
“Shavers… that will certainly pique the attention of the casino. Did you call security?”
“Nope, I put them back where I found them and I left him a little gift.”
“What kind of gift?”
“A very tiny one. I slid a Death Stalker scorpion into his pocket where he stashed the dice.”
“That’s going to be a surprise?”
“He’ll only find it when he tries to remove the loaded dice. If he does, he’ll get stung.”
“How bad is the sting of a Death Stalker?”
“One-hundred percent fatal.”
“I guess this time his winning throw was a deadly one.” I grabbed her hand.
I’m Andy Kali. I work as a bartender on the strip. I like my job; tips are great and the people are mostly…
To the right of my station is the Craps table. If you like people watching, Craps is solid entertainment. It’s a simple game – really. You put down money it goes away; you play it safe you may come away with some bills in your wallet. If you’re an adrenaline junkie, you can make all the crazy bets you want. And if you think you can win, you might be right, but the gods of luck rarely make that happen.
There are customers who play hard and make bets that would bankrupt small countries. One such gambler is Texas oilman Johnny Quinn. He’s a giant of a man at six foot seven He makes bets, throws the bones and wins. He whoops and hollers. He hits us for over hundred-grand a week. I’ve learned that the fastest way to get the attention at the casino is by being a Johnny Quinn.
One girl who works here is a floor server who fills in at the coat-check. She’s the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Her name is Jayna Lau. Her coal-black, straight hair cascades down her back and her dark brown eyes are captivating.
One night she stopped by my bar on her break to pick up a coke. I was glued on the action at the table.
“Hey! Who does a girl have to kill around here to get a coke?” She snapped.
“Sorry, I said. I guess I get caught up in the tables,” I was caught off guard.
“I’d keep my eye on that shit-kicker if I were you.” She pointed to the big guy.
“Why?”
“He’s too lucky. He’s hit sevens on his first toss of the bones every time. There’s a 6.2 to 1 odd that he’s going to hit a seven. He hits a seven every time on his first toss,” she said.
“I don’t know enough to know what to look for. Where’d you learn so much about the game?” I asked.
“China. I used to work at the Big Six casino in Macau. I dealt the Baccarat and Craps tables. In China, if they suspect your cheating, they take you into a back room and mark your face or cut a couple of fingers off. If they catch you cheating, they’ll take you on a tour of the South China Sea and toss you overboard.” She smiled.
“Sounds like a rough game. I’d like to get a spot at the table as the dealer. But I don’t know enough about it yet,” I said.
“You rake in more money in tips as a bartender. If you tell me your name, maybe I can teach you craps, and you can teach me how to make a drink,” she winked.
“Andy,”
“Jayna, she thrust out her hand and gave me a smile that made me melt. What’s your schedule look like?”
“Mornings free, Saturday is my night off.”
“Me too. I’m a full-time student at UNLV. I’m on holiday break. Let’s hang out on Saturday,”
“I’m all in,” I smiled. “What’s your major?”
“Entomology,”
“Ants?”
“Close, insects. I’m fascinated with arachnids and scorpions.”
“Promise me you won’t bring any of your specimens on Saturday.”
“Most of them aren’t any near as dangerous as you think. A scorpion only uses venom to capture food. The venom neutralizes prey and starts the digestion process. ”
“If it’s all the same, I’ll carry my Benadryl.”
“There are spiders and scorpions that are so toxic, you’ll croak before you can take your Benadryl,” she smiled. “Here’s my phone number.” She walked away.
I watched her glide across the floor. She glanced back and caught me watching her.
Saturday took long coming. Jayna showed up at my door and looked great.
“You told me you wanted to learn how to play Craps.”
“I do. I think being a dealer at the table would be exciting.”
“The excitement wears off somewhere around the hundredth game. Then it’s just a job. I can teach you in a couple of weeks.”
“Sounds like I have a lot to learn.”
“I’ve been watching your friend play. He cheats.”
“How does he do it?”
“Not every player cheats alone. I think the dealer is in collusion with him. Every time he wins by throwing a seven. He cheats one time after thirty throws. That’s when he makes big bets.”
This is a month long journey with the A to Z challenge. Each day the letter is the prompt for my short stories themed: “Thirty Ways to Kill …”
And keep on the lookout for my upcoming novel – “Lifeblood of the Dragon.” Lifeblood is set in the seedy alleys of post-war Los Angeles. The morgue is full more often than not. Cameo appearances by the well known gangster Mickey Cohen and his goons.
many thanks to my editor: Leslie Moon aka Moondustwriter
Dolores had been married to William Fletcher for ten years. She seldom lost her temper but her rage once resurrected was like the fury of a Scottish ghost. William was a reserved man exhibiting occasional spells of passion. This lack of real love was annoying, but Dolores never complained.
Dolores, out of boredom and in want of a child, would take long walks in the countryside. One bright sunny day, she saw William picking a bouquet of wildflowers. She blushed and ran home hoping that it might lead to an afternoon lovemaking. Willian returned to the cabin several hours later, exhausted, and ambled off to bed.
Two weeks later, Dolores watched William picking another bouquet of wildflowers. He seemed to have a cheery disposition and a spring in his step. Staying out of sight, she followed him up the lane to a widow’s cottage. The widow accepted the flowers, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
Dolores sat on a log heartbroken, trying to think about what she was going to do. The more she thought, the angrier she became. She called her childhood friend Molly Figgins, who still lived in Scotland.
“Hello,” a mild, high-pitched voice came over the receiver.
“Molly, this is Dolores in America.”
“Is anything wrong?” Molly asked.
“I need to hear a friend’s voice from home.”
“Is William well?” She asked.
Dolores could feel the heat of anger boiling in her blood.
“Aye, he and his mistress are just fine.”
“A scoundrel!” Molly spat.
“Aye, I discovered his indiscretion today.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Remember when we were girls and we used to read the poetry of David Mallet?”
“Yes, I do. I remembered you were always fond of William and Margaret.”
“Aye, I remember too. I must admit missing Corn Cockle the most.”
“Do you have a garden?”
“Aye, a bonny one. If I say so myself.”
“After a travesty like the one you just experienced, nothing will set you straight faster than a reminder of Scotland. I’ll pop a package in the mail. It should be there within a week.”
“I appreciate your friendship as always.”
“It’s the least I can do to cheer up my best friend.”
A week later, a small parcel arrived at Dolores’s door. She opened it and found a bag of dark seeds and a pair of rubber gloves. An hour later, she had mixed the seeds with a large bag of birdseed, and poured the mixture into the feeder.
Springtime arrived. A new aqua marine wildflower no one had ever seen bloomed in the grassy fields around the cottage.
It wasn’t long before William noticed the beautiful blossoms growing along the path to his mistress’s bedroom. William plucked an enormous bouquet and presented them to his lover. That night, Willian did not return home. On his second day missing, Dolores reported his absence to the Constables. Four days later, the postal delivery officer described a foul smell coming from his mistress’ hut. The patrolman found the two of them lying in each other’s arms. The Detectives believed it was a suicide pact between the two lovers. No one noticed the garland of Corn Cockle in the vase on the nightstand next to the bed. As sure as the grim ghost came from the east of Scotland, the birds ate the birdseed and deposited the seeds in the fields. Agrostemma Githago was the most poisonous wildflower in Scotland. Human contact with the stems, leave, or flowers would cause imminent death.
This is a month long journey with the A to Z challenge. Each day the letter is the prompt for my short stories themed: “Thirty Ways to Kill …”
And keep on the lookout for my upcoming novel – “Lifeblood of the Dragon.” Lifeblood is set in the seedy alleys of post-war Los Angeles. The morgue is full more often than not. Cameo appearances by the well known gangster Mickey Cohen and his goons.
many thanks to my editor: Leslie Moon aka Moondustwriter
Part 2:
“Stories and tales, “ Junaid spit.
He tore away the carpet and clammored down the stairs. I followed out of curiosity. I saw the seal of King Sennacherib. Several men used rods to lever the slab. Junaid wiggled through an opening. Shining a torch into the tomb, he saw clay-casks, overflowing with gold.
“Praise Allah, we have found the treasure!”
I quietly walked back up the stone stairs as more men descended. I could hear their revelry as they jumped into the crypt to claim their prize.
“What is this?” I heard Junaid scream.
Another scream, “my skin feels as if it wants to peel away from my body.”
I heard more screams.
The ancient guard had covered the gold with anthrax spores. All the men had dropped into a cavern of death.
I filled the cavern with as much dirt and sand. I filled the hole with stones.
I went to one of the lorries and inside was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I cut her loose from the rope that bound her. Not able to return to my dwelling I took her to the unused hut belonging to my grandparents. I gave her wine and dates and gave her a rug to sleep on.
I removed every trace of the men who had disturbed my home. I sold the lorries to a man in the village next to mine. The woman was glad to be free and gratefully became my wife. In July, we had two fine boys. Both my sons will someday guard the king.
This is a month long journey with the A to Z challenge. Each day the letter is the prompt for my short stories themed: “Thirty Ways to Kill …”
And keep on the lookout for my upcoming novel – “Lifeblood of the Dragon.” Lifeblood is set in the seedy alleys of post-war Los Angeles. The morgue is full more often than not. Cameo appearances by the well known gangster Mickey Cohen and his goons.
many thanks to my friend and editor ~ Leslie Moon aka Moondustwriter
Writer of Wrong 