Family Twig


Today at the MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie blog, we have Tale Weaver. The visual prompts is the image below.

“Gee, Dad. This place is really old!”

“It certainly is, Bobby.”

“Who used to live here?”

“Believe it or not, Bobby, this is where your mother’s grandparents used to live,” Dad lied.

“Wow!” Bobby’s eyes were the size of saucers. “They lived in a cave…with a door?!”

“No, the door is new–well, newer. In fact, your mother used to visit on the weekends. I’ll bet she used to play with her favorite stick right over there.” Dad pointed to a wadi a few yards away.

“A stick?” Bobby asked. “Didn’t she have any normal toys to play with?”

“Back then Bobby, they didn’t have toys,” Dad explained. “Besides, your mother’s family was so poor, they couldn’t have afforded them anyway. She was lucky to have a stick!”

“Wow…” Bobby marveled. “Were they like cavepeople, Dad? Did they hunt saber tooth tigers and stuff?”

Dad thought for a moment, wishing he hadn’t started this story about his ex-wife. It was a little late now to recant, so he continued.

“Neanderthals. Yes, that’s it! They were Neanderthals.” Dad stifled a grin and cleared his throat. “I don’t think they did much hunting though. They weren’t the smartest bunch. I believe they subsisted mostly on berries and whatever else they could forage. Scavengers, too. They’d pick at the leftover meat on the bones of the more adept cavepeople’s kills.”

“Neanderthals?” Bobby repeated. “We’re learning about them in school. Since Mom is a Neanderthal, does that make me one, too?”

“Oh, no Bobby. You took after my side, thankfully.”

“How come Mom never talks about being a Neanderthal?”

“Uh, well…I um…” Dad tried to think of something good. “Oh, it’s probably because she doesn’t like to brag.”

“Dad?” Bobby’s voice took on a serious tone. “Is Mom what they call “the missing link?”

Dad really had to stifle a laugh this time. “That’s right, Bobby,” Dad began with a smile. “Your mother is indeed, The Missing Link.” He just couldn’t resist!

“Wow. That it’s so cool! If I were her, I’d tell the world!”

“Bobby, listen.” Dad squatted down so he was eye-to-eye with Bobby. “Let’s just keep this between us. If your mother wanted you to know, she’d have told you. And who knows? Maybe she’ll explain it all to you when you’re older.”

“A secret, just you and me, Dad?”

“Just you and me, son.”

“Deal!” Bobby stuck out his hand for his father to shake.

“Deal!” Repeated Dad. “Now, we’d best be going. Your mother wants you home by four.”

“Can’t I spend the night with you?”

“Not this time, son,” Dad sighed. “I wish you could, though. Lord, how I wish you could.”



SusanWritesPrecise/ Susan Marie Shuman

Google Images

The Big Chance

Susan Marie Shuman


Today’s is Photo Challenge #230 over at the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Blog. The writing prompt is the image below.

“Dang Pa,” Mervin said. “Whaddaya make o’ that?

“I don’t rightly know, son.” Pa ran his hand over his chin and beard. “Ain’t never seen nothin’ like it.”

“Reckon it’s a Harvest Moon?” Billy-Ray asked.

“I dunno, Billy-Ray,” Pa replied. “I’ve seen some big ‘uns, but never nuthin’ that dadgum big!”

“Well, the way I see it,” Mervin began. “This is our big chance.”

“Big chance fer whut?” Billy-Ray asked.

“Gimmee yer knife an’ I’ll show ya!”

Billy-Ray dug in his jeans for his pocket knife. He blew the lint off of it before handing it to Mervin. “Whatcha gonna do?”

Mervin slowly advanced toward the glimmering orb.

“You gonna stab it, son?” Pa asked. “What fer?”

“Shhhh! I ain’t gonna stab it.”

“Well, whut then?” Billy-Ray asked.

“I’m fixin’ to find out once an’ for all, if this here moon is made outta cheese!” Mervin explained. “And if so, then whut kind.”

“Cut a hunk fer me, will ya?” Pa asked.

“Yeah, me, too Mervin.” Billy-Ray added. “And just in case, I’m gonna get the Saltines outta the truck.”

“I sure hope it’s Havarti.” Pa said.

“I sure hope it ain’t Limburger!”






SusanWritesPrecise/Susan Marie Shuman