This little story's been sitting patiently in my drafts folder for close to year now, waiting for the finishing touches. Many thanks to the handful of folks who read over it and offered some suggestions for sprucing it up a bit. Maybe it's still not everything I'd like for it to be, but I feel like it's at least presentable. source unknown - Fairweather Blue - "Abigail! Are you wasting water again?" "No, Mama." I fumbled, one-handed with the stubborn metal lever while water overflowed the edges of my cup and splattered to the tile floor. "Here." Mama's hand closed over mine, shoving the lever back into place. "You oughtn't to waste, Abby. Sweet water is money." Several drops plinked slowly from the piping in steady punctuation of her words. "One, two, three," she counted them, "that's coppers down the drain. They bring it from inland and you know how we all must pay!”
The Inkpen Authoress posted this month's Chatterbox topic. Passing the Time And since we had a power outtage and I couldn't work on the newsletter and it was still too early to go to bed...I sat down and typed out this bit of dialogue. Vincent van Gogh We were not - Born - for Idleness Altan pulled out a battered chair and dropped astride it with her arms folded over the back. "It's said that King Marcellenus has declared war against Helmut of Angar." "Again?" Baatar took a long pull at his tankard and drew the back of his hand across his mouth. "Aye, well, he is but an upstart cockerel of a king." "Determined to make a name for himself or lose his kingdom." Baatar snorted. "And the latter seems the most likely." Altan shrugged. "Little care I for that. But both sides will be needing warriors." "'Tis said that their peoples are on the brink
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