A Rare Music for #WeWriWa #8Sunday

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors’ Eight Sentence Sunday!

It’s the weekly hop for everyone who loves to write! We’ve got a variety of genres and talented writers just waiting for you to come sample their wordy wares. Come read one, or all!

If you’re inclined to share your own 8-10 sentence snippet, follow the link and sign up. It’s a great community to be a part of! =D

Monday Morning Coffee” has been with me since I was sixteen. A local boy with schizophrenia wandered away from his family at a large outdoor event. Several days later, he was found, deceased.

From that story came this one – the connection might not be clear to anyone but me – but it’s there.


Rose remembers the words of a shabbily dressed man she met on her commute to work.

A Rare Music

“Why do they all look through me or past me, or at me as though I’m dog droppings on their shoes?”

Within his rough and reddened fingers, behind his downcast eyes, there was the vision and sensitivity to create this masterpiece from a simple newspaper page. It catches like a stick in the cogs of my assumptions, the familiar boredom of my Monday life.

As the train slows for my stop, my finger traces the thorn and the leaf – the leaf’s edges are softly serrated, but the thorn’s point pricks sharply. I slip the rose into my bag, placing it carefully so it won’t be crushed or torn. It will be hidden, my secret talisman, glowing in my soul.

As I walk the two blocks to the university library, the crunch and cadence of my boots in the crust of snow, the beat of my heart, the passing of my steaming breath, make a rare music.

No one takes note of my arrival; the other staff members are chatting or occupied with their own business.

Will Rose return to her workaday life?

Will she ever see Jeremy again?

What will she do now?

Any guesses?

Monday Morning Coffee” was originally published in the 2015 edition of World Unknown Review, Since I retain all rights beyond first publication, I intend to revise the story and use it as my initial self-published offering.

Yesterday was my birthday. Had a chance to go to Shakespeare in the Park with my teen son and fellow fan of the Bard. But a minor car issue reset our plans – and, instead, I had a quiet evening at home, with my favorite goat cheese crouton, poached pear, and pecan salad, topped with my Accomplice’s blackberry pomegranate dressing.

It was a good night – and there’s another play next week. =D

Get more #8Sunday here!


    • You’re right. Sometimes it does keep us safe…and we do miss a lot if we get into the habit of looking through others.

      I try to help where/as I can. That hasn’t been so much, lately, since things have been rather lean for us. But sometimes, just being seen, or a kind word, can do wonders for someone used to just being ignored.

      I’m thinking that Rose can’t not see, now.

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