The Grave Digger

This week’s prompt for Saturday Centus is: “he had never been accused of being intelligent..." For the uninitiated, Saturday Centus is a writing meme hosted by Jenny Matlock who is the author of the awesome blog, ...off on my tangent. You can find all the rules and some pretty good little stories by clicking on the Saturday Centus button on my sidebar. And don’t forget to visit Jenny’s blog.

Here is my contribution for this week:

Leroy stood at the edge of the grave he had just dug and peered into it, wondering if there were a story associated with its soon-to-be resident.

A grave digger, he had never been accused of being intelligent, but his employers knew nothing of his avocation. For years, he had been making up stories about the people he helped bury, then publishing them on his blog. Lately, they had become quite popular among Jenny Matlock’s Saturday Centusians.

Taking his shovel, he peeled off his gloves and walked to his little cottage, then logged on to find the prompt for the week.

Jenny did not disappoint.


© cj Schlottman

More Than Money

This week’s prompt for Saturday Centus is: “everything depended upon this single card.....” For the uninitiated, Saturday Centus is a writing meme hosted by Jenny Matlock who is the author of the awesome blog, ...off on my tangent. You can find all the rules and some pretty good little stories by clicking on the Saturday Centus button on my sidebar. And don’t forget to visit Jenny’s blog.

Here is my contribution for this week. The prompt is in italics.



At the bridge table, four players were concentrating on the game. My husband and I had bid a grand slam in notrump, and I was playing the hand.

When dummy went down, I took as much time as I needed before addressing the lead. I counted the sure winners and could only come up with twelve.

I looked in my hand again. There was small club I needed to throw off on something from dummy.

With $1,000 riding on this hand, everything depended upon this single card.......the rent, groceries and day care. I went down one.

That night's beating was the worst ever.


© cj Schlottman

Bombs Away

“I’d catch a granade for ya.....”

Mrs. Jenny’s Saturday Centus prompt for this week could go in so many directions. I have read a few of the entries and am intrigued. Drop in over at Saturday Centus to learn all about this meme - the rules and all that. There you will find the posts that were fueled by this prompt. And don’t forget to follow Jenny on her awesome blog, “..off on my tangent.”

For a variety of reasons, which I will not bore you with, I have not participated for the last two weeks, but here I am, back again!

This one was hard for me, but here goes.



Her son, Michael, was running through the house repeating the phrase, “I’d catch a granade for ya...” and making motions as though to throw something.

Jane stopped Michael as he sped through the kitchen. “Where did you hear those words?”

“Joey’s big brother has a video.”

“Do you know what a granade is?”

“’Course I do. Everybody knows it’s a little bomb that you throw at the enemy. You know, like in Iraq, where Daddy is. But if you throw it at a friend, he catches it and throws it back, like, you know, a game. Joey’s brother told us.”

“Come sit with me, Sweetheart. We need to talk.”


© cj Schlottman

Secrets Never to be Told

This is my contribution to Jenny Matlock's Saturday Centus. You can learn all about it by clicking on her button on my sidebar.

Silently, she slipped into the attic, praying not to wake the others. The house was full of relatives come to bury Grandma. But none but she knew of the chest tucked away in the corner of the attic.

She lifted the stack of letters from the ancient chest and began to read by the beam of her flashlight. The paper was almost translucent, but she could read enough to know that the secrets they held should never be revealed.

Silently, she made her way back down the stairs, sneaked out the kitchen door and out to the trash bin, where she threw in the letters and tossed a match after them.


© cj Schlottman

Dreams Washed Away

Jenny really stuck it to us this week by requiring us to limit our posts to 25 words. No, that is not a joke. It's all part of Saturday Centus, her creative and educational meme. If you aren't familiar with this meme, click on Saturday Centus above and learn the rules and regs. And be sure to visit Jenny at her blog, "...off on my tangent" by clicking on her name at the beginning of this paragraph.

Here's my attempt at this abbreviated post.



The lottery ticket
hid in the left pocket
of his shirt where it would
travel to the machine
and be washed to a pulp.
It was a winner.

Non Resolutions

"Her crumpled up list of resolutions..."


Well, here it is Monday, and I’m just getting to Saturday Centus. I do so hate to get behind, but it seems to happen more than it should. Most of you know the drill, but in case you don’t, click on Saturday Centus above to learn all about it. Here’s my small story for this week.




cj hates resolutions, sees them as planned disappointments and subsequent blows to one’s self esteem.

More home cooking.

No chocolate.

No alcohol.

No unnecessary spending.

More trips to the gym.

Her crumpled up list of resolutions goes flying into the nearest trash bin.


© cj Schlottman

Magic Bath

Here’s my contribution to Jenny Matlock’s meme, Saturday Centus. Not familiar with this themed writing exercise? Click on the Saturday Centus link above and find out all about it. And don’t forget to check out Jenny’s ...off on my tangent... She’s a wonderful writer. Please take time to read all the entries. You will find some very clever little stories.

This week's prompt is “The white-bearded fat man rolled through the church doors...”

Here is my little story:


The white-bearded fat man rolled through the church doors and tumbled like a red snowman all the way down to the feet of Baby Jesus. The preacher helped Santa to his feet and got a whif of what must have been rum.

“Welcome, Santa. What brings you to church on Christmas Eve when you have rounds to complete?”

The Schlottmans had egg nog instead of milk, and I’m afraid I overserved myself. Do you have any coffee?”

“We have Holy Water. Let me sprinkle your forehead and you’ll be good as new.”

“How’d it go?” asked the elves.

“I wanted coffee, but he gave me a bath. Let’s go.”


© cj Schlottman 12/25/10