William Bereza on Unsplash

The red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse) had woken up very early, for a moment she thought there was a huge fire in the distance, but no, it was a fabulous sunrise, more than gorgeous, it was going to be an excellent day – not dreary at all.

She got up and padded to her little kitchen, ah yes, coffee to brew, as she talked to herself as usual, and then she stared at the calendar on the door; gosh, she muttered, it was already September, as she quickly grabbed her diary to make a note for today.

With her mug in her hand, she went to her writing table, and opened her laptop, but what should she write?

She had enjoyed that fantastic poetry slam last week, all those excellent poets, like Nick, Misky, Frank, Ange and Reelika, with all their lovely voices; then there was Reena, Aptivi and Len, and also, of course, some particular Proprietors, meaning Mimi, Denise (aka the BarTender), and the top of the list, Clark (the tall, thin man), plus, for the second time, it was the Gatekeeper and Hūnga.

Now she felt that her other red-headed woman could have another spin in Paris, with all her friends, especially those two gargoyles.

She pondered a bit, but she was getting hungry now, best to go to the Six-Sentence-Café-and-Bistro, she already knew what she would order – it will be two dippy eggs and toast, since she was pretty certain that Tom would be working that shift.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

More #SixSentenceStories

William Bereza on Unsplash

So that was sorted, as she went to her laptop, opening it up to look at her poetry section, rather vast now, she would have to memorize a couple of those, and that could be a problem.

She wrote three of her most recent poems which she hadn’t yet released, and copied them on some small cards, then she looked to decide which would be best, then the second one for reserve, and finally the last one if required, although she felt it was rather unlikely, still all she needed to do was… practice, practice, practice, and out loud.

La Raconteuse was meeting and greeting, smiling and waving, but the sad news was this, as she held this up – I’ve lost my voice completely, more than hoarse!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

More #SixSentenceStories

William Bereza on Unsplash

The red-headed writer (aka la Raconteuse) dashed down from her apartment (all six floors), then trotted across a couple of roads to get to the Six-Sentence-Café-and-Bistro; she was about to enter the establishment, and she was sure she could smell the particular aroma of a cigar… she smiled… a lot.

La Raconteuse scanned around the place; it was quite early, so few people were around, but Mimi and Denise, aka the Bartender, were talking about making lunch.

“A lovely selection of tomatoes, courgettes, carrots and lots of spuds,” grinned Mimi, “and all organic food of course,” – “perfect,’ smiled the Bartender, “you’ll use the carrots to make carrot cake?” – “oh, naturally,” as Mimi went back to the kitchen to organize everything.

La Raconteuse sat on a stool opposite the Bartender and said, “what’s happening just now,” as the Bartender slid a flyer, “look at this.”

“See, it’s going to be a function, right here,” said the Bartender, “where there will be music and lights, and then everything will go dark and then the spot light will come up… it will be a slam poets party… see, look it says here.”

“And I will be the overseer,” said the tall, thin man, as he suddenly appeared from the hallway, “you’ll enjoy this a great deal, won’t you,” as he grinned, “we’re starting a list, all those poetry people, either actually here, or on line… it’ll be next week, oh, and don’t worry, our excellent friend, the Gatekeeper, will be looking after the door.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

More #SixSentenceStories