In the midst of these hot August nights, we thought you’d appreciate some refreshing reading. This time we raise our summer Spritzer glasses to yet another very cool Sunday writer–Marianne Graninger for her creative writing contribution. Marianne wrote these captivating (and one macabre) creative writing pieces during our Spring Sunday writing sessions.

Please feel free to share and comment.


Blue Moon Summer

By Marianne Graninger

Photo by James Wheeler from Pexels

Writing prompt: Blue Moon Summer

You sit on a bench,

breathing blue air.

Summer, this year,

has a different flair.

The sky looks dim

like dark-blue ink.

You look, you stop,

you start to think.

Change has come,

it’s nature’s course.

Go with the flow

without remorse.

Leave old behind

and greet the new.

Just be yourself

in all you do.

Up in the sky

a bright Blue Moon –

it tells you

dawn is coming soon.


Best Birthday Ever

By Marianne Graninger

Image by Alexander Kliem from Pixabay

Writing prompt: Petrifying Piñata

As 7-year old Tommy, the birthday boy, smashes open the piñata, everybody starts screaming. Stumps of fingers and toes and a pair of arms drop to the ground. Blood spills everywhere and intestines splash on the grass. A head lands on the ground with a loud “thump” and rolls away. The expression on its face is one of pain, fear and horror. Blood splashes on the children’s faces and into their mouths as they scream with high-pitched voices. Everybody in the garden starts running as chaos evolves, people bump into each other like panicking chickens. Children cry and scream from the top of their lungs, some crouch in the grass and hold their ears tightly, rocking forward and backward. Others try to escape, make it to the fence door only to realise that it is locked. People try pushing and kicking it, but it just won’t open – they are trapped. There is no way to escape this horror, and nobody knows what is going to happen next. As the panic reaches its peak and the cries can’t get any louder, it seems that Tommy calms down. His face takes on a somewhat sober expression as he stands still and observes the scene. His eyes wander from the bloody piñata to the body parts lying on the ground, soaking the grass with red. He whispers, “But it’s my birthday…” No one listens. People are still desperately trying to make their way out of the garden, shaking in horror and screaming. “It’s my birthday!” Tommy raises his voice. Looks around. “What about my party?” Finally, he looks at me. “Mum…you promised me…” And he’s right. I promised my son the best birthday party ever. One he would never forget. How could I let him down? My beloved Tommy? My dear boy? I take two steps towards him, kneel before him and look into his eyes. “We’re gonna make it happen”, I whisper, “it’s your birthday after all.” He looks at me with big, tear-stained eyes, and I can see hope glistering in them. So, I straighten up, swallow, and make my way to the limbs lying in the middle of our garden. I position myself behind the grotesque head, raise my leg – and kick it towards my son. As the head rolls over the grass, everybody freezes in shock. Stared at by 28 pairs of eyes, it slowly comes to a halt just before Tommy’s feet. The boy looks down at it, then glances at me, his expression turning from insecure to…adventurous. A loud laughter escapes his throat as he kicks the head to another kid. For a moment everybody stands still. But as Sam overcomes his horror and kicks the ball himself, the tense atmosphere dissolves. The children start playing soccer, kicking the head from different angles to let it bleed as strong as possible, making a game out of it. Smearing blood on their faces to look like warriors, miming Star Wars fights with disembodied arms. I look around and see happiness on the children’s faces, and, most important, Tommy beaming with joy.

And I know that all is good.

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