Sue Koenig

This is to let everyone who is familiar with Sue that she suddenly died on Friday, May 30.


I will not be accessing this blog  so if anyone wants to express condolences or any concerns, please contact me directly at


Bernie Koenig

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BrightHaven for Blogophilia 14.7

Home in Rosedale Toronto


BrightHaven: a suburban enclave not too far from a large city. It could be anywhere in the world; anywhere you wish to be.

The houses are varied in style and size, all with large lots, parks are scattered throughout with play areas for children, benches for sitting and flower gardens for esthetics.

A large shopping centre is located in the middle of the area with smaller shops and conveniences close to each residential area including fine dining, entertainment complexes, sports arenas and houses of worship.

BrightHaven offers quiet streets, amiable residents and good schools.

We understand why many homeowners might wish to avoid such a community. When one thinks of conflicts in suburbia, arguments over fence placement, property lines pooping dogs and noise come to mind. We agree. Pettiness has no place in your life. BH is different. We cannot guarantee there will be no disagreements with other residents but we do promise they will be neither petty nor mundane. The challenges in BrightHaven are different, and complex, taking ingenuity and creativity to resolve. It might be a cliché to say you never know who lives next door but in BrightHaven the neighbors aren’t your run of the mill accountants, teachers, CEOs or doctors. Just what they are is for you to determine. You can choose your neighbours. They may be many things but ordinary is not one of them. Come on and visit. You might be surprised at the quiet serenity picturesque landscape and sweet air where you can taste the freedom to be yourself without fear of judgment and no need to conceal your true nature. Eeveryone is unique.

BrightHaven is nothing like the bedtime stories your mother read. It’s more like the tales told around a camp fire or the narrations that come to mind when a back cat crosses your path. Nobody gets too much heaven no more.


Written for
Blogophilia Week 14.7 Topic: Bedtime Stories
 Bonus Points:
 (Hard, 2 points) Include a black cat crossing your path
 (Easy, 1 point) Incorporate a Bee Gee’s lyric
prompt pic

prompt pic


windmill, flowers, in straight lines, rainbow , two lips, tiptoe through the tulips, flower power, coloring book, windmills of my mind, picture perfect, low down, low lands, picturesque landscape in blog, flower gardens in blog,


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Emily hesitated at the patio entrance searching for her friend. Beth usually arrived at their dinners early. And there she was sitting just to the right. Emily slid into the empty, white straw chair and was about to grab the wait staff to order a drink.

“No need.” Beth advised. “I already ordered for you.”

“Am I that predictable that you knew what I’d want?”

“In a word Yes.” The woman’s smile was infectious and good natured. Emily was lucky to have such a good friend.

After a bit of catching up, Beth grasped Emily’s hand. “I’m starved. We must order. I caught a whiff of the ‘pasta of the day’. It smelled divine.”

They requested their meals, both decided on the heavenly smelling pasta. Beth’s eyes lit up. “Look at that gorgeous man to your two o’ clock.”

Emily twisted around to judge the accuracy of Beth’s pronouncement. She usually had good taste and while they agreed on what a man should look like, fortunately they had never been infatuated with the same one.

What the hell? The man Emily observed had plaque on his teeth, not between, not behind, but on. A green leaf dangled from the middle of his two  front teeth. Eeww disgusting. She turned back to ask  Beth  whether she was pulling her leg or what. While her gaze shifted toward her friend she saw the icky toothed man click some sort of device that sat on the table next to his beer stein. “Are you nuts Beth? Or joking with me? That “man” is disgusting.”

“Oh Emily his teeth are fine, pearly white and he has a wonderful grin right at me. Just because you work as a dental hygienist doesn’t mean everyone has terrible teeth.”

Emily had not imagined the state of his objectionable mouth. She peered at her friend, who, if this was a practical joke, it wouldn’t be the first time, then turned to gaze at the “gentleman”. Now, not only did he have several multi-coloured hanging pieces of foodstuff but also a hole in his left cheek as if the flesh was falling apart.

And then he did it again. Clicked some sort of metal device sitting on the table.

When she refocused on Beth she found her found wearing a silly grin.  “That dimple of his in his left cheek is so sweet.”

Now anger washed over Emily. If this was a prank she didn’t want to play anymore. “OK Beth. The joke’s over. Tell your friend  there that it was funny but I’m tired and hungry and just want to eat my dinner.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. And for that dumb remark I’m going over and sit with him and you can have the table all to yourself.” With that Beth stood and almost ran  up to the man at the table and sat in the chair next to him.

As Emily watched open mouthed and wide eyed, this kind of thing never happened between them,   her friend  cosied up so close to the man she was just about in his lap. She also noticed that the fellow now had a hole in his right cheek, his hair was falling out in clumps landing on the table and his nose appeared to look squished. And he clicked his device again Horrified Emily almost fell off the chair as Beth kissed him right on the slimy, almost green, nose.

Fed up and disgusted, not knowing what was going on. Maybe it is me. Maybe I’ve finally cracked. Emily ran out of the restaurant crashed into a table, almost knocked over a customer and kept going. She never looked back, she just kept walking.

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You Walked Away


A poem  in 42 words

I needed you that day,and begged for you to stay.
But as usual you walked away,
tossed me off like an old baseball cap.
I will not beg again.
You broke my heart.
Far too many scattered pieces,
wounded beyond repair.










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On being a writer Blogophilia 13.7

Sue and Teresa

Sue and Teresa


When time won’t allow for writing, when real life gets in the way, like now, though real life is writing, then an uncomfortable tension invades my mind.

I want to write, the unfinished stories are queued up waiting to be told. But I also have to be comfortable physically  to concentrate on the characters, the plot (though I don’t really) and the words.

April was a busy time for writing. May not so much with external influences preventing the fingers from skimming along the keyboard.

I’ve been reading. Through books I see how my own writing can be improved. The author I’m currently reading is so visual I can see it all. Then there was the book I did finish and cursed from two thirds in to the end. It’s like she needed more plot and invented conflicts that didn’t feel true. A book can have too much plot if the characters’ actions  don’t flow naturally.

A while ago I wrote this blog about a reporter named Andrew Forbes. Yet I have no idea where the name came from. Writing is funny that way – the mind has a unconscious connection with the fingers typing but consciously I haven’t a clue til I read what’s on the monitor.

As one of the writers pointed out – writers inspire other writers. While writing is a solitary pursuit  but when in communication with other writers one is never alone. Sharing ideas and receiving constructive criticism it becomes a group activity.

The photo above is me and my friend Teresa who lives in the country not so close to Pittsburgh (with an “H”). We were able to meet and it’s great to have a face and voice to go with the words. We really didn’t talk about writing just exchanged a few ideas and got to know each other better. I know I can count on her to help me as she can count on me.

So one of the bonuses of participating in a writing group with people from around the world is occasionally, when proximity and time allows – getting to meet in person.

Part of participating in the writing community though right now time won’t let me, is reading friends’ blogs and keeping up with their writing. So between my own writing and keeping up with friends’ writing it’s time consuming. But pays huge dividends.

I’m taking it slowly telling my characters to calm down their turn will come and I will get to their story. But it might take a while as May will be a busy month and some things cannot be rushed.

What more can I say?

Eh-eh-o eh-o



written for
Blogophilia Week 13.7 Topic: Time Won’t Let Me

Bonus Points:

(Hard, 2 points) Incorporate a line from the song “Pompeii” by Bastille

(Easy, 1 point)  Include a newscaster or reporter


Posted in Blogophilia, Writing | Tagged , | 27 Comments

The Door

flash fiction! I couldn’t resist

A story in 42 words

My door, painted red with a large brass knob, appeared in the chapel where family and friends gathered to say good-bye.

Floating close to the ceiling, conversations about me. I eavesdropped.

Procrastination is a hard habit to break. I must depart. Maybe











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Gone Fishin’

away on holiday not sure how often I’ll check in.

But don’t let me stop you from visiting me 😀

I’ll return the visit when I can

Have a great May!

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Time for Blogophilia 11.7



Time changes point of view
“they” say
The months passed

and now
my heart is comfortably numb

though the darkness of your touch still lingers

still I am needing you to be with me

You promised you wouldn’t walk away
and you didn’t
You were a sweet temptation but I knew it wouldn’t last
when we met fate smiled and left
thinking his work done

Please, don’t let me fall in love with you again


that’s it – ran out of time lol – all the prompts in with several song lyrics


Written for
Blogophilia Week 11.7 Topic: Point of View

Bonus Points:

(Hard, 2 points) Incorporate a lyric from the singer/poet Jewel

(Easy, 1 point) Include the phrase “a touch of darkness”

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I had so much fun last time with this group – am doing it again


I really don’t have time as going on holiday in two days –but I couldn’t resist — my impulse control is turned off.



Answer the question – Why do birds suddenly appear?

in 42 words exactly


The forest.

Dark, silent.

No breeze rustles the leaves.

Rotting, decaying stench.


The townspeople cower in fear, whispers circulate.

A figure stands clothed in white with raised hand.

The shadows dissolve. Vegetation sprouts, green and alive. A bird sings its song.





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A-Muse for Blogophilia 10.7

A2Z-BADGE-000 [2014]


For the second year I decided to participate in the A-Z Blogging Challenge.  Each April bloggers write for 26 days (Sundays off). Each day is a consecutive letter of the alphabet.

The half life of the blogging challenge was over on April 15. We’re down to the final stretch only three days remaining. I reached  my goals of meeting new people, learning new information and having fun.

The challenge  entails visiting others’ blogs (there are 2000 on the list) and responding to comments on my posts. No, I don’t visit all the entries. I pick my favs and occasionally find new ones of interest.

I’m also planning a holiday for the beginning of May. If anyone out there lives near Ann Arbour Mich or Chicago or Pittsburgh – message me and we can visit 😀

The blogs I visit regularly include:
a friend here in Ontario whose zombie apocalypse story is tense and engrossing

A friend in New York who writes horror with a pretty prose poem randomly thrown into the mix

Several writers with creative methods of talking about writing tips

A woman who does parodies of romance novels including the art. A very fine line between parody and reality

My good friend in the UK who is doing character snippets this year

and several book review posts

However one of my favs is Moe D’Vation Meets the Girl
Moe is a Muse, Italian, smelly stogie in hand and a comb over.

He gives advice to the girl as she pecks out keys on her laptop. He does this in an Italian accent and the reader wonders just how big is he in the mob?

As I was reading Moe’s latest adventures the other day (he wanted to teach the girl how to make a proper spaghetti sauce but instead caused a huge fire) I felt a poking in my elbow.

When I turned away from my monitor Robert was sitting next to me. Robert is a character from an unfinished novel. In that book called The High Price of Mortality he is the only one who I don’t know too well even though his role is integral to the plot  line.

Unconsciously he had been running around in the back of my mind and now here he was to personally remind me that he needed attention.

I mentioned Robert to Moe who told me to tell Robert that good things come to those who wait.
Well that wasn’t going to work. I’m impatient so it makes sense that my characters are also.

I did break down and printed out my notes about Robert and when I get a free minute will try to piece together a coherent back story for him.
Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep. Tomorrow is another day to separate the mistakes from the art in Robert’s story

For those of you who cannot understand how characters can sit next to you and annoy you – write more then you’ll understand. 🙂


Written for
Blogophilia Week 10.7 Topic: Tomorrow Is Another DayBonus Points:(Hard, 2 points) Quote Scott Adams

Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes. Art is knowing which ones to keep.

(Easy, 1 point) Integrate a half life

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