Kim's Ramblings

  The Great Unboxing (The Long and Winding Road From a Story to a Book.)     Yesterday, I received a box containing my children’s book, Toolshed Surprise. Although I had self-published a poetry collection a few years ago, this box of books felt remarkably different. I can tell you I was over the moon excited! This book is the product of a two-year long wait, because of illustrator changes, pandemic shutdowns, paper shortages, and other random things that most of us wouldn’t think could affect publishing time frames. For those who may not know the history, I wrote a children’s story in 2019 for a contest that called for stories about Bigfoot. It was a fun story. It received an Honorable Mention, and I filed it away. Then, in 2020, a different contest called for a children’s story on any subject. On a whim, I polished the Bigfoot story and submitted it. That second contest was sponsored by Young Dragon’s Press. My story won, and the judge, Clarissa Willis, who ...

  Thanks to our dear friend Ellen Withers, Gary and I belong to Facebook group Writers Unite! The group is publishing an anthology of stories with the theme Love. We were fortunate enough to have a couple of stories included. It is available on Amazon, and through these affiliate links. To purchase volume 1:    https://amzn.to/3U3dgEr To purchase volume 2:    https://amzn.to/3QyUMsm As an affiliate, I may be eligible to earn a small fee on qualified purchases at the above links.

                       Arkansas Paws in Prison –  Second Chances Are Saving Lives for Inmates and Animals Craig watched the yellow dog cower in the back of the cage day after day, as prospective adopters walked by, noticing the small dogs, the fluffy dogs, the dogs jumping on the gates begging for attention. Sandy, as his name tag said, wasn’t likely to beg for attention or food or anything else. He seemed fearful of all the noise and commotion of the shelter, and crouched in the corner with his face hidden.  Craig had seen him transform into a completely different dog when he’d taken him out of the cage for exercise. Sandy was smart and eager to please on these outings. Craig wished he could take him home, but he’d learned early on that he couldn’t bring home for every animal that tugged at his heartstrings. But with Sandy’s shyness, he’d likely never get adopted.  An idea struck, and Craig approached the shelte...

There’s an intruder in the house. I huddle under my blanket, straining my ears for any sound of movement. The monster has not allowed me to see his face, but I’ve glimpsed him there, lurking in the darkness. I’ve heard his stealthy movements. I don’t know his identity or his intentions, but I suspect the worst. I fear he will come for me while I sleep. I dare not close my eyes, but I cannot maintain this vigil much longer. My body begs for rest, for peace. But how can I sleep knowing there’s a monster under my roof? I tense at every squeak or groan of the old house, sure my attacker approaches. Two guards are pledged to protect me. But I can’t fully trust them. They speak no English, and they’re given to loafing and sleeping on the job. Exhausted, I sink into fitful sleep. Morning arrives. My situation looks moderately better in daylight. The guards on duty appear alert and competent. A fellow prisoner bravely, recklessly conducts a search for the intruder, finding no...

The Flash Fiction contest challenged writers to tell a complete story in 99 words. It’s a lot harder than it sounds. The following took an honorable mention at Ozark Creative Writers Conference. It also brought a few gasps at the White County meeting this week. I consider both a success. The Last Breakfast             Bill plopped into the chair. Joyce poured coffee into his cup. He grabbed his fork as Joyce slid a plate of fried eggs and sausage in front of him.             “Biscuits are almost done,” she whispered.             Bill swept the plate to the floor and backhanded Joyce in the mouth.             “Again? You know I can’t eat without biscuits,” he growled.             Joyce ducked and hurriedly filled another pla...

             Cleburne Countyians and visitors turned out in record numbers Saturday for the seventy-third annual Shine Festival, held in rural Cleburne County near the community of Floral. Event organizer Dub Stone said this year’s festival included entries from as far away as Kentucky and Illinois, as well as several local producers. The festival included a friendly competition among batches of homemade "shine” with prizes awarded for appearance, flammability, and of course, taste. The overall grand prize went to Skeeter T. from somewhere in Independence County. First place in taste was won by Lizzie L. from Hazard County, Kentucky. First place in appearance was awarded to Bubba G. from Jackson County. The prize for flammability goes to the family of the late J.R. Smith from right here in Cleburne County. The prize money will go toward rebuilding the family’s home. Judging for the annual event is done by a panel of volunteer judges, who are se...

           As I stepped onto the porch, I noticed the package leaned against my door. Curious, I grabbed the padded envelope and carried it inside. I tore it open and squealed when I saw the trademark black and silver packaging.   The new Kat Von D lipstick and gloss duo!             I dialed my best friend Julie. “Thank you! You shouldn’t have; but thank you!” I gushed as soon as she answered the phone.             She laughed. “What are you talking about?”             “The lip duo kit. It delivered today. It’s the perfect shade too. I can’t wait to wear it.”             “Why are you thanking me? I didn’t send you anything.”             “Seriously? We were just talking ...

            Terri awoke to stabbing pain behind her right eye. She raised her hand to her temple, felt a slight tug, and blinked at the IV needle in her wrist. Fighting to focus her heavy-lidded eyes, she could see the double layers of clear tape that held it neatly in place. What? Where am I?             “Where am I?” she croaked, the sound barely audible through her dry, irritated throat. Her parched lips stuck to her teeth. She raised her head a few inches and looked around, seeing no one. Bright light glared in the small cubicle where she lay on a gurney surrounded by beige curtains.             She could see that she was in a hospital. The fog in her brain, sore throat, and pain told her something had happened. Something bad. She fumbled around the edge of the bed for a call button, but found nothing. “Hello? ...

The cactus died today. Following just a week after the loss of the cat, it seemed sadder than necessary. Though she never really cared for the cactus, she'd learned to love the cat. The double loss drove home the fact that there is not one single living thing left that has ever lived in this house. Other than her, of course. The recent ones she knew of first-hand. The sweet little old lady died from a sudden aneurysm. The gruff but kind-hearted old man grieved himself into a heart attack not a year later. Earlier inhabitants are all gone too - cancer, car wreck, even a suicide. Maybe not suspicious, but certainly unnerving when she thinks about it. Especially if the thinking about it occurs in the middle of the night, when sleep plays hide-and-seek and old houses creak and groan. Distant thunder grumbles. She fluffs her pillow and turns it over for what must have been the hundredth time. She ignores the red numbers glowing from the clock on the nightstand.  She doesn’t eve...