Category Archives: Bus Stop Stories

Nabokov Summer Day Part II

Steamy it was, but a good kind of steamy.  It’s August now and I didn’t think the “dog days” were coming because suddenly late July was so cool.  I read somewhere that dog days don’t refer to hot and muggy … Continue reading

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The Moon Saying Goodbye

I should have known how it would be today.   Something was wrong the moment I got up. Fear of weather again.  Blizzards. Snow two feet deep.  Rain and snow, freezing cold and  then sixty degrees.   The sky opening up and … Continue reading

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“Into the Mystic”

I don’t know why I am writing about dinosaurs and Van Morrison, kicking his legs on “The Last Waltz”.  These are pictures from a thousand years ago.  He was singing “Caravan”.  He was so chubby, almost busting out of his … Continue reading

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This Savage Place

Almost all the leaves blew off the maple last night. Suddenly Indian summer, the prolonged weird heat just vanished and cold and wind took its place.  My mother used to hate the wind.  She stood at the doorway howling at … Continue reading

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The Bludgeoning Sky

via Daily Prompt: Bludgeon Bludgeon.  Sounds like a stew you might eat, or an old-fashioned death.  When savages were savages who didn’t know the art of killing.  Rhymes with dungeon, curmudgeon or maybe even illusion.  Like the one you have … Continue reading

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The Raining Sun

Cold this morning, especially earlier in bedroom.   Too lazy to get the comforter out or another blanket– there was no blanket– laundry backup.   In the dark I rummaged in the linen closet for something—  a duvet cover and threw it … Continue reading

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The Dilemma of Dismay

via Daily Prompt: Dilemma Dilemma.  Sounds like a nineteenth century word, to describe a feeling you might have, at the prospect of tea with the wrong person, wearing the wrong kind of hat, whose gloves are slightly soiled at the … Continue reading

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