Linda Louise Rigsbee

HomeSpun Literature is bound to please.

The Last Chance

Photo Prompt by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Photo Prompt by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

February 13 Friday Fictioneer response to Photo Prompt.

He stood at the porch rail, sipping his morning coffee. Some things you could count on, like the return of Spring. He thought she would return, but it had been a week. She’d never been away that long. Every couple had disagreements. It wasn’t as though he had hit her. He shouldn’t have called her a liar. Instead, he had been mistaken. She wouldn’t answer his calls. “I’m sorry” wasn’t enough. This time he had lost her. He went back into the lonely house. Someone knocked on the door. It was her; ready to give him one more chance.

Worst-Laid Plans

January 23 Friday Fictioneer Photo Prompt by Georgia Koch.

In the calm before the storm, Rafe nailed plywood over the house windows. His home was miles inland from the coast but that didn’t matter to a hurricane. Wind was wind, no matter what they called it. He wasn’Georgia Koch FF 1-23t going to stay for another blow. He was heading further inland to visit his brother.

Rafe loaded his clothes and some food into the truck before he hitched the boat behind. He headed out to the highway. Hours later, he was still on the highway – a whole ten miles down the road, in congested traffic. This time he weathered the storm in his truck.

Too Many Signs

“Right there! At the sign! You missed it! How could you miss it?”
“Which sign?” I snarled.
My husband glared at me. “Which sign? You didn’t see that sign?”
I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “There were big signs, little signs, signs on signs…which one was I supposed to be looking at?”
“Pull over. I’ll drive.”
He’d get no argument out of me about that. I hated driving in town. I pulled over and let him drive. He circled around the block and came back to the corner. I wasn’t about to tell him he turned the wrong way.

Photo Prompt by Jean L Hayes

Photo Prompt by Jean L Hayes


As I sorted through my mail, I noticed a solicitation for roadside assistance insurance. Having recently returned from a road trip, it caught my interest. I opened it and began sorting through the pages of information. When I didn’t find a price, it went to the trash can. I was short of time and patience.

It occurred to me that marketing my books wasn’t much different. I realize the rationale behind all the paperwork in the envelope was to sell me on the product before they offered the price. The fact is; it doesn’t matter if the offer is a bargain when I simply don’t have the money. I realize that everyone isn’t on a fixed income, but hopefully they do have a budget. If I want to put my books in their budget, I need to cut the chaff and make my price available up front.

Here is where I have an advantage. I not only sell large variety of books, but I have special interest items as well. In addition to professionally bound books, I have handcrafted books. But there is no reason everyone couldn’t have some kind of advantage. An attractive booklet can be printed and stapled together at the spine with little cost involved. It can be tucked into a purse or pocket and it is an excellent opportunity to demonstrate writing ability. A flash fiction story relating to a book topic might be a possibility. For me, perhaps a sign stating “books – $3 to $15” would help.

As writers, we should keep in mind that we are not selling books. We are selling our creativity. That creativity must be advertised to entice the reader – after all, isn’t that what we are doing with our book covers? But no one wants to be enticed, only to discover they cannot afford the product.

What’s your sign?


Procrastination by Candlelight

June 6, 2014 Friday Fictioneer’s Photo Prompt by Douglas M. Macilroy took me on free flight into the darkness. Join us every Friday with our host, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields in our 100 word response to a photo. Here’s mine:June 6

The electricity had been off for nearly an hour. My guests would arrive in the morning and I had waited until the last minute to clean house. Everything I had to do required electricity or more light than a candle could provide. I had been resisting an urge to work an on-line jigsaw puzzle, thinking the electricity would come on any minute, but I caved. I grabbed a candle and ran to my office, searching my cluttered desktop. As I turned the laptop on, the bright screen filled me with anticipation. My joy turned to disappointment as the electricity came on.

Country Morning Promise

ImageMay 23 Friday Fictioneer Photo Prompt this week is by Erin Leary.


It was a cool spring morning.  The smell of fresh warm milk drifted up from the pail with each squeeze of my hand.  My head rested against the warm belly of the goat while I listened to her munch on grain.  Below the make-shift milk shed, fog drifted around the house.  I was the only one up to enjoy the miracle of a new day being born.

As I made my way down the rocky slope with the pail of milk, the rooster crowed.  Yesterday was the funeral.  Today was the promise.  Life goes on.

Diving into the Helmet

Douglas M Macilroy provided April 18 Friday Fictioneer Photo Prompt

Douglas M Macilroy provided April 18 Friday Fictioneer Photo Prompt

April 18th Friday Fictioneer’s Flash Fiction Photo Prompt by Douglas M Macilroy transported me back to motherhood in “Diving into the Helmet.”

I get that the toy diver’s helmet was never meant for an adult head, but there should be some easy way to get the thing off. It would be bad enough for a 9-year-old to catch his mom cleaning his room, but to find me in this helmet?
I didn’t hear the bus stop or the front door open, but I had no trouble hearing Andy guffaw.
When he opened the latch on the helmet and released me, I gave him a stern look and said “Next time clean your own room.”
Muffled laughter followed me out the door.

Memorable Evenings

Photo Prompt by D Lovering. April 11, 2014 Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

ImageHer head throbbed as she frowned at the bedraggled streamers.  She must have imbibed too much last night.  She turned to Demetrius.  “What was the occasion?”

“Ah, my love,” he lifted her hand to his lips and responded in a mildly offended tone.  “Surely you have not forgotten.” His handsome face offered no clue to the mystery.
  A storm had awakened her this morning and she had been alone in her room at the time.

He sighed.  “We are engaged.”

She jerked her hand from his.  “I would have remembered…” Her voice faltered when a diamond ring winked from her finger.

Thanks to

Alien Light

April 4, 2014 Friday Fictioneer photo prompt

April 4, 2014 Friday Fictioneer photo prompt

I used the wrong photo for a prompt, so I wrote two flash fiction stories today. Here is the correct one…I think.

I always saw figures in wood grain and fluffy clouds, so it was no surprise when I saw the alien hanging from the ceiling at the studio. It had two glowing eyes, a fluorescent muzzle and strange metal ears. It was angry with me – probably because I kept staring at it.
An elbow jabbed my ribs. “It’s your line.” Sharon whispered.
I only had three words in the play, but darned if I could remember what they were.
She rolled her eyes in exasperation and whispered urgently. “It’s a monster.”
“No, it’s just a light,” I assured her.

Summer Prayer

On August 6, 1945, the first atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. Three days later, the second atomic bomb was dropped on Nagasaki. A few days later, Japan surrendered and WWII was over.

She paused, pen in hand, enjoying the fragrance of summer blossoms. Memories forced themselves on her. The wedding; the births and the christenings – summers at the beach house and Christmas caroling in the city. It had been a good life, and it would be again – when he returned. She breathed a heavy sigh. Would this war ever end? She gazed down at the letter, silently praying that he would come back alive. Finally she signed and dated it – August 5, 1945. She folded it and placed a kiss on it before sliding it into the envelope.FF-4-4-14

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