On 12/11/2025 By tnkerrIn Uncategorized7 Comments

I met her on the highway. Specifically on the 101, along the central coast of California in a rest area just north of Morro Bay. She told me her name was Maria but that everyone called her Soledad. She was probably in her 60’s and she was a very grand lady.

You could tell by the way she carried herself,

The way she presented herself to the world around her.

She may have been from Quintana Roo. I don’t remember where exactly.

“I had to absquatulate from my country,” she told me, “My husband, Camilo, was a ranking member of the ruling party who was caught with his hand in the till, and we had to come to California. We feared for our lives.”

“Where is he now?” I asked.

“He did not survive the trip,” she replied, “we were bushwhacked in Loreto and he was killed.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” I replied,” and yet, you carry on? Undeterred? Are you on a mission now?”

“I fear for my life.” she told me. “I must put great distance between myself and Quintana Roo. If I am found, I will surely be put to death. Are you looking for work? Do you need a job? I need a bodyguard.”

“I am sorry, Soledad, I’m an old man. I could not be an effective bodyguard.”

She said nothing. Just stared into my eyes, “Do you have a son?” she asked, “Someone like yourself? I can see in your eyes that you would be a fierce protector.”

We sat together in silence at the small picnic shelter till dawn.

ZOZO 02.10.25

On 03/10/2025 By tnkerrIn Uncategorized8 Comments

I looked at the screen to see who was calling and the number glowing on the screen was Ms Larkin’s. She had been the teacher’s aide for my freshman English class. I hadn’t seen her for years.

I pressed the button to answer and spoke, “Ms Larkin?”

“Is that you,TN?” she replied.

I knew it was her with that soft, slow, southern drawl. “Yeah, it’s me. What the fuck. I haven’t heard from you in years?”

“You remember, Ms Brown?” she asked.

“Of course,” I replied, “Freshman English. Burges High School I sent her a copy of my last book. Shit, it musta been 10 years ago. She told us to send her copies of any work we published and she said that when the wall was filled she would retire. I sent her my book. How’s she doing?”

“She retired yesterday.”

“What? I’ve been out of school for over 50 years.”

“Yeah but, you sent her the entire book. She thought she was never going to retire but your book alone filled almost the entire wall. She was grateful. She had room for one more page and, remember Linda Bustamante?”

“Not really but, go on…”

Linda Bustamante was in the same class as you. She had a poem published in the Alamogordo paper last month. She sent it in to Ms Brown. She framed it and hung it on the wall beneath your book. The wall was filled. Ms Brown put in for retirement. She was ninety two years old and when she took the papers down to the office she handed them to Principal Chavez and immediately fell over dead. Right there in the office. Her last words were, ‘Thank TN for writing a 400 page book. So that’s what I’m doing. I’m passing on her regards. I think she would have lived forever without retiring if not for your contribution to her wall. She was grateful. There will be a service next week. Do you think you could make it?”

“Who else is going to be there?” I asked.

“Well, I’ll be there and I going to call Linda Bustamante after we’re done. It might just be me, you, and Linda. I don’t know how to contact anyone else.”

The prompts were:

she had the caution tape
putting the pieces together
the number glowing on the screen was, Ms Larkin’s
those nunchuk kids

09.05.25- Two-fer

On 09/05/2025 By tnkerrIn writing14 Comments

scar tissue
don’t count your troubles
catch me
an alluring gait and a graceful stride

She watched him when he walked into the room. He looked cultured and refined. A businessman, perhaps? An entrepreneur? His nails were manicured, his hair coiffed and perfect. The only thing that gave him away were the boxing scars beneath his eyes.

He was a fraud, a thug. She looked away and began to move across the room. She moved towards the bar. She used her alluring gait and graceful stride. He noticed her when she moved. He liked the way she moved.

She needed another lemon drop martini. A double.

The bartender was a thirty-something blonde man with an accent she couldn’t quite place but she liked the way it sounded. She wanted to talk but he was busy and moved away almost immediately. She turned and leaned over, her elbow on the bar and stared at the empty space in front of her. She spaced… the music played… jazz, smooth, with a golden throated crooner laying a line of scat. It was perfect background music to stare into space and let your mind wander.

Suddenly the space was gone overcome by the leering face of the street fighting entrepreneur. His mouth was moving as he looked down her blouse. She thought he must be talking and he was looking right her so, he must be talking to her. She tried to focus…

She turned her attention to him and re-evaluated her initial impression. Now he looked more like a salesman. A double knit character. A double knit character who used to be a boxer. She tried to focus on what he was saying.

She tried to focus on what he was saying.

“… my friends and I…
… in town for the convention…
… join us for a drink?
… we have a room here in the hotel…”

She turned and fled.
Thought about going home to Arthur
Rejecting that idea immediately

At the door she looked over her shoulder. The double knit dude was returning to his friends. She left the bar. Left the hotel, turned south on the strip and wandered aimlessly for a while. As she passed iron fenced patio bar she paused and listened to the crowd chatter across the wrought iron. She looked at them across the hedge that lined the fence. There were women that looked just like her, chatting with double knit assholes, just like that other guy. An opening appeared in the fence and she made her way towards it. Maybe this time it could be different. Maybe this time someone would smile.

Bourbon Street
from town to town
she smells of tangerines
dead man’s boots

Marnie got dressed in a long sleeve tee, a short skirt and, her dead man’s boots.
She went downstairs for breakfast.
“Did you shower this morning?” her mother asked.
“Ya smell like a Tom cat on the street.”
Marnie frowned and trudged back up the stairs.
She showered and brushed her teeth.
Pulled her clothes back on and returned to the table.
“That’s better,” Mom said. “now ya smell like tangerines.”
“It’s a new body wash, Mom.
I picked it up at Tesco.
It does smell kinda nice, huh?”
she smiled and tossed her hair.

OLWG# 416- Mesilla

On 08/05/2025 By tnkerrIn OLWG, writing4 Comments

Written for OLWG# 416

###

For the last three days, at exactly noon, I had gone to the plaza in Mesilla, just below Alamo Bay and sat anxiously on the third bench along Calle Principal, as instructed. I waited for an hour. I could see the Basilica of San Albino to the south on Calle De Santiago. Nothing had happened.
On the fourth day, a dark-haired young woman took a place at the other end of the bench where I sat. She was beautiful. Gazing on her face was like diving into a deep pool of genetic and cultural diversity. Her countenance mirrored a history of Indigenous, African, and European ancestry. She was beautiful.
I was uneasy.
She sat quietly and studied the gazebo.
Finally, she took a deep breath and whispered, “¿Trajiste el diamante?”
“Sí,” I replied.
“Déjame verlo.”
I reached into my grip and removed the stone. I handed it over. Watched as she glanced at it briefly before standing, “Lo siento,” she said and strode toward the church.
“Wait,” I implored, “Where is Maria Fernanda? Where is my wife?”
“Lo siento mucho, pero… su esposa está muerta.”
“Muerta,” I repeated.
“Muerta,” I said again as what she said sunk into my consciousness.
I broke. I couldn’t even chase the girl. What would I do without Maria? I looked again, but the young woman had disappeared into the crowd.
I sat for a few minutes, and when I could, I stood and walked to the police station.

#####

This week’s prompts were:

just below Alamo Bay
Did you bring the diamond?
no medicine for that

OLWG# 415- The Ruminator

On 29/04/202529/04/2025 By tnkerrIn OLWG, writing6 Comments

Written for OLWG# 415

###

David Bruce, Western Regional Sales Manager, woke that Friday at 6:13 am. It was 25 November 1988.
The day after Thanksgiving, he was at TechnoCon.
He had a hangover.

There was a woman in the bed. A shock of long, curly, blonde hair gleamed on the pillow beside him.
What was her name?
Her name?
Through a haze, he might remember calling her ‘Celine,’ could that be right?

He ruminated.
If that was right, her family name was O’brien. Could that be right?

The message light was blinking red on the phone.
His head hurt.

Slowly, quietly, he slid from the bed and slunk into the bathroom to pee, splash cold water on his face, and figure out where he was. The label on the little bottle next to the sink read:

“Crestwood Hotel: Sophisticated Comfort”
Thickening Shampoo

He had never heard of the Crestwood Hotel.
So this must be her room— that complicated things
Where were his clothes?
Where was his car?

He showered
shaved
walked naked back into the room.

She crooked her finger, beckoning him back to bed. Dutifully, he obeyed.
“You owe me one,” she said.

Then it hit him
                She was Celine O’brien
                                Chief Technology Officer of EpistemicBoost
                                                Their debut product is the very theory of knowledge
                                                                The latest in AI
                                                                The stock was all the talk
                                                IPO was imminent
                                She was right
                He owed her one

If I play my cards right, I could become wealthy beyond my wildest dreams. Stock options.

He smiled and spread his arms wide. She smiled back, and he could see what, he took as longing, in her deep blue eyes.

“I think I love you, Celine,” He whispered as his head reared back. He smiled wider. Then slid back into the bed.

#####

This week’s prompts were:

his head reared back
floating cheques
he was a ruminator

Extra Prompts Provided by the Zozo Group

On 24/04/2025 By tnkerrIn OLWG, writing8 Comments

I am so confused – I apologize if this is a repeat but… Written for Extra Prompts

###

“These are precious things,” Lilly said, “You can look at them, but you are not allowed to touch.”

The others all nodded solemnly.

She pulled a coarse cloth pouch from her belt and undid the pull string to peek in.

She turned the pouch and spilled the contents onto the cool, concrete bench on which she sat.

The first thing I recognized was a bone. Might have been a chicken bone

Don’t know for sure.

Jean reached out a finger but Lilly slapped her hand, “You can’t touch,” she snapped and Jean retracted her arm. It fell back into place on her lap, “Sorry,” she muttered.

Lilly turned the bag over again and shook it – ever so slightly.

A red marble escaped onto the bench and began to roll. It didn’t get far before it collided with the chicken bone and came to rest. Lilly made contact with the rest of us. Checking to see that we would follow the rules she had arbitrarily imposed.

No one made to touch the either the marble or the bone. Lilly took a deep breath and shook the bag again. This time a child’s pacifier appeared and perched 5 or 6 inches from the marble and bone. It’ called a pacifier in this country but back in England they are referred to as dummies. I think that’s because it’s not a real nipple but a dummy.

Lilly turned the pouch inside out to show us that there was nothing else contained therein.

“I can see why you describe them as ‘precious,’” I say. Every fibre of my being wondering what these things were doing in her pouch and what kind of scam she might be trying to pull.

#####

This week’s prompts were:

give up
angry moon
sugar and joy
these are precious things

OLWG# 413-

On 15/04/202515/04/2025 By tnkerrIn OLWG, writing6 Comments

Written for OLWG# 413

###

Eilen woke that morning and knew, immediately, that something was not right in the house.
She stayed still, trying to figure out what was wrong.
There was a noisome, smell in the house.
She tried to identify it, while appearing asleep.
Just in case it might be a snake.

Musky? Foetid? Olid?
It wasn’t fetid or frowsty
It was a bit funky
A bit like that cheese factory in Tucumcari— ripe but, not unpleasant.

She lay still.
Was someone or something in the house? She listened. Noise can be hostile.
This old home had certain sounds…

Settling of the house
                Creaking of the floorboards
                                 Roaring of the old oil heater that lurked in the basement
                                                 The rush of wind flowing beneath double hung panes
                                                                 She knew all these sounds.

These sounds sounded like home. She was comfortable with these.

From the passageway she caught a sound that didn’t belong.
The rasp of a throat clearing, and a single thump, a boot on a wooden floor

Eilen risked a raising of her eyelid
She caught a glimpse of faded jeans
A hat, a beard, a smile that she knew. It was that bastard, her ex…
Captain Hindsight. And he was watching her sleep

She lay still and waited for him to look away. When he did, she reached for the mug of “Valerian Tea with Lemon” that rested on the bedside table. Snagging the handle with her index finger she threw it at him. She flung it hard. Missed his head and it crashed against the wall behind him. Tea splashed everywhere, baptizing him in the ‘dirty-sock’ smell of Valerian Root, tempered only slightly with a squeeze of Meyer Lemon.

“Get the fuck outta here, Devlin!”
He ran towards the stairs.
Eilen leapt from the bed and followed him.
                There was a large crash.
                                She slowed down and peered to the lower level
                                                Devlin lay crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, his neck twisted strangely

.
Eilen slunk back to bed.
Back to sleep.
She could call the cops in the morning. It was just Devlin and he was probably dead.

#####

This week’s prompts were:

the air smells like snakes
noise can be hostile
a ring around the moon

Zozo 10.04.25- Her Brother was a Writer

On 12/04/2025 By tnkerrIn writing6 Comments

Written Thursday, in 25 minutes, with the Carrizozo group, which is growing

###

I went there with my buddy, Rick. He said it was a great place to get high and maybe meet some girls. I had just returned from SE Asia, my hair was still short, and I still called everybody “Sir,” or “Ma’am”
I was used to catcalls of “Baby Killer,” or “Murderer” when I would walk into a bar.

We got there and the lights were dim, the room dark
Smoke coiled from an incense burner in the center of the table.
I could hear music softly emanating from a back room. “Oh very young, What will you leave us this time…”
There was a guy with long hair and a fringed leather jacket sitting at a table his eyes were closed and his thoughts were, obviously, elsewhere.
Next to him was a girl. She appeared to be about my age.
Long brown hair
parted in the middle
eyes shut, shiny makeup marred her perfect face.
She looked familiar
Jennie Sublette, she had been a year behind me in high school.
I knew her brother, Ed. Ed was a poet. He wrote about cowboys and aliens from Roswell.
He wrote about New Mexico.

The guy with the leather fringe jacket stood up and spread his arms, “Welcome brothers,” he said, “can I get you a beer?” he offered a burning ember pinched tightly in an alligator clip and Rick took it.
Jennie opened her eyes and seemed to be seeing the room for the first time. She took note of Rick, she looked at the guy in the fringe jacket, and she glanced briefly at me.
“Wow,” she said and closed her eyes again.
“Pay no attention to the girl,” said fringe jacket, “It’s her first time.” I knew for a fact that was a lie. She and I had gone to high school together, and her brother was a writer.

The prompts were:

I can tell you something beautiful
bastards
the smoke coiling
Jennie Sublette
a Cat Stevens record playing softly in the back room

OLWG# 412- Diamond Tease Cabaret

On 09/04/2025 By tnkerrIn OLWG, writing2 Comments

Written for OLWG# 412

###

When Morana washed her hands of me and took Colton as her new man,
I walked away
I packed up and left Pompano
I moved to Virginia Beach— a sunny vacation spot perfect for hiding
Virginia Beach has a good sized population
Easy to go undetected
People come and go all the time— for vacations and weekend getaways
It is a tourist city with a military base, meaning folks are always on the move
I felt it would be easy to blend in there
Be anonymous.

Lots of bars and an attractive nightlife would, when added to the transience of the population, make it easy to find work and meet lonely women.
It was easy to find gainful employment at the Diamond Tease Cabaret
I got a cheap room at ‘The Reynolds- McGlynn Hotel’ downtown and started putting money away. But, I soon began dating Velvet, one of the girls at the Diamond Tease.

She was great, but it’s VERY difficult to save when you date Velvet. So that didn’t last very long. It was better to keep it in my trousers and get back to putting money away. Good tips from the punters at the Diamond Tease helped. But, I wasn’t cut out for celibacy, and when Sahara got hired it was easy to fall into a relationship. She was a wildcat.

Sahara lived in East Beach, about a thirty-minute commute on the 264. She lived with her parents and told them that she worked as a Welder at the shipyard; that she worked the night shift at the shipyard, about a 20-minute drive from the house.

Sahara and I fell into a routine. It was comfortable, and when I proposed to her, she quit her job at the Diamond Tease and got a job at the shipyard. She landed a position as a pipe welder. I quit the club too and have been studying for my Real Estate License. I should have it by the end of next month and, I already have an offer from Genesis Properties to work with them.

Life is looking good for Sahara and me.

#####

This week’s prompts were:

walk in radiology
got a job and started putting money away
sick, dizzy and disoriented

OLWG# 411- The Cartographer

On 01/04/2025 By tnkerrIn Uncategorized2 Comments

Written for OLWG 411

###

Elias Lindström, a cartographer with dust-coloured hair and eyes the colour of a bruised plum, moved his index finger across a tattered hand-drawn map. In the same hand, he held a faded photograph of a woman with fiery red hair and an enigmatic smile, a woman he had not seen in over twenty years.

Due North, the compass whispered, its needle a tiny, unwavering finger pointing towards a destination he hadn’t dared to believe still existed. He packed a small bag with foul weather clothes, a worn leather-bound journal, and a single, wilted rose— a memento from a life he had left behind. He felt the familiar thrum of anticipation mixed with a cold dread that gnawed his resolve.

###

The prompts were: