Spectacular Indifference

Sometimes Colleen wanted more than her quiet life, tucked away on the edge of reality. The music she loved, songs she sang led her to believe the world was full of love. Her experience of it had been ages ago.

Men looked through her, chasing more exotic women. Men consulted Colleen for advice but seldom noticed her. Deep need never disappeared, but she was not in the proper place or time.

Once or twice, a man engaged her in conversation; most never caught her availability because she failed to flaunt it. Other women beguiled those who missed seeing her vibrance.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

I meant it to be a Drabble; it did not quite work out. I have stories that refuse to conform to one hundred words.

I wrote this in my journal. It shifted a bit, as most things transposed do. I suppose I should chase the story, maybe one day.

I hope you have enjoyed your visit to Haphazard Creative. The follow button is available, or you might come back when you have time. I hope the holiday season is bringing you cheer. After 2020 I think all of us need some sparkle and love.

Trying The Drabble

Time is fundamental. It may be said, “Time governs the world, and especially the fortunes of humankind.”

However, time is a radical thing, capricious and mutable. It might propose futures bright and pleasurable but may deliver obstacles multifariously.

When Allen sat down on the floor of the house he had lived in for three years, he tried to sort out the confusion that plagued him. The moments sped as tears fell. The future, always held within his command, now came undone and became unknown. Depression took a shot at his psyche. Time, he knew, could be made, melded, or overcome.

A drabble is a story of 100 words. The above text is my first try. Generally, my stories are more verbose. Probably, I should take this further, but maybe or not. I have been reading short stories to acquaint myself with the form better.

As a prompt, write a drabble. If you like, toss me a link, and I will check it out.

Thank you for visiting Haphazard Creative, there is a follow button, or I hope you will come read in the future. Comments are always welcome, and participation is a boon.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan


She held out her hand, and he clasped it in the largeness of his own. His grip was tender but enveloping, and she clung to him with the strength of a rising raptor.

“I never thought to see you here,” she whispered.

As he let go of her hand, which he had gingerly shaken, he said, “Neither did I anticipate your presence.”

“We must be lucky,” she said, a smile lifting her lips and lightening her eyes.

He stepped backward, “I would not say it that way. It is another life for us both these days.”

Shadows seemed to gather grayly, blackly, round her, some clouding her previously radiant face. Her voice quivered, choked, “Ah, then, I will be getting on my way. Fare thee well, and never you stop to worry yourself over the one who dearly loved you on that long misbegotten yesterday. It is now over; as have you, so have I forgotten that love we partook.”

The crimson skirt and ebon cape swirled, like ripples in a pond, around her as she turned and stalked away. His dark eyes followed her until the fog swallowed her form. Then he wondered, was she a specter imagined, or the reality that haunted every passing dream.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Situations 1, 2, Something More

First, we shall begin with a story start. Sometimes I just noodle around with things and see where it takes me. I am a No Filter, No Boundaries sort of person when it comes to creativity.


Morgan walked across the pavement cleanly edged with green, to what could be a gothic castle. Turrets, stained glass, rock walls, but closer, partial bars on the windows. No, it clearly was not a castle. In the near distance, the painstakingly manicured lawn was broken and dotted with marble monuments. The building was a handsomely disguised mausoleum, a repository of the dead.

She had roamed the halls where a voice could echo off marble timelessly, numerous times. Even a whisper could carry room to room.

She was allowed all over the vast building and knew the attic was a storage facility for emergency rations and necessities in case some disaster struck the metropolis.

Morgan hoped she was wrong, but she also knew a considerable waste disposal dump lay adjacent, just beyond the lawn of careful plots. She wondered when the dump reached capacity, would the graves seed it with resting bodies?

Those thoughts she pondered from time to time, but just now, she sought the coolness inside the imagined castle and shadows of comfort after the Summer heat had toasted her, and the bright white light almost made her blind.

As she opened the heavy door, the quiet took her by force. It nearly enveloped her in peace. Peace, however, was not hers to be had.


This next is about today’s experience.

I avoid going out, but my stores of food, particularly dog food, were depleted. I ate lunch at Del Taco, I had lunch for $1.75. I had to correct the person at the drive-thru when I made my order. I think she thought I was upset, but it was not that, I just wanted it right and I have this voice thing. If I get in any way excited, I get louder. I hate it, but I have no way to control it. I promise I try, but… sometimes I really do not like how I am.

I went to Sam’s Club. All over the store, they have moved things around. Put that on top of my usual anxiety with being out in public, and I almost had a bad situation. I spent about three times the moments I would generally have in there today, and I never found some things I wanted, needed.

I came home and unloaded. The dogs would not eat, though they were excited about having food. I fed them by hand for a bit.

I have tried to relax, but this has not been a better day.


The sunshine, the rain,
The grass, pines, dandelions,
Look, comfort abounds.


Find me in the deep
Of thought where anxiety
Is no longer freed.

As a prompt, create something about situations you have faced recently or some you imagine.

I hope your day was pleasant, and you accomplished what you intended. If not, resolve to find better solutions on the morrow.

Thank you for visiting Haphazard Creative. I am so glad you took the time to see what is here. I hope you will follow the site or return as your leisure grants. Comments and suggestions are welcomed.

May God Bless and Keep You and Yours in all you do.

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Mop Up (2)

“The thing about you newbies coming in here wanting to save the nation, is you are not too long from graduation, either from college or the public sector. You may have done great things, won some fights, started improvements, but this place is another country. The dangers here come hard and fast, without let up. The pressure is always on. The illusion of them and us soon dissipates, and one realizes all the training is inadequate. What is done here is about lives, every life depends on success within these walls. I have not seen any troglodytes slipping into the sewers, and I mean you no disrespect. I hear good things about you, Jacob. There is crossing at the borders all over this estate. I have put in the time, it has cost me dearly. I can be your friend, or I can fade from your presence, I hoped we could find some common ground. I might be of assistance as I wish someone would have been to me when I came in with the bright shine of fool’s gold,” said the shorter man, his voice sincere and understanding, “By the way, I am Thomas. If you like, we can go get some supper or dinner if you prefer.”

Jacob smiled, “Steel, that is a category I was not expecting of you, Thomas. You are the first person I engaged, and I see I was led precisely where I should go. Forgive me if I blasted like a cannon. I am not like most of these politicians. Also, I have a lot to learn. College is not life and corporations are blood-sucking leeches. Aw, hell, the military is not even what it seems, it is a great place to lose hopes and dreams. See the world, from one tin can to the next, and come home to find a family different from who you left behind. I lost a marriage that way, missed too many funerals to count. The man took most of me and no one understood, all in all, I only wanted to do good. I am here to put paid to some debts, serving with all my soul. God is my pilot, but I find He does not say much, and I could use an ally. Supper is fine, Georgia was my home once upon a time.”

© Jo Ann J. A. Jordan

Well, I guess I will ride while I can. Can we say, “Unexpected.”