Photo Credit - CRLC - Saddle Up Saloon
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In the heart of Carrot Ranch country, The Saddle Up Saloon hosts Cowsino Night, a story game every first Friday of the month. You can learn about the craft of creative writing, introduce your own characters to the Kid & Pal crew, discuss the writer’s journey, and be part of making literary art accessible to anyone.
So sit back, relax, have a read, and let's see where the imagination takes us. Rules of Play
Use the three pictures that spin to a stop as inspiration or subjects (use in any order). Write seven sentences following the Story Spine (you don’t have to use the phrases of each step): Once upon a time… Every day… Until… Because of that… Because of that… Because of that… Finally… Share your story here at the Saloon (post on the story/comment board below). No links to other places. Play the slots as much as you like (you can write more then one story). Say howdy to those playing with you! Be friendly and have fun! |
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AUGUST 2022
Photo Credit - CRLC - Saddle Up Saloon
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Bear CountrySparks shot skyward with the addition of another log on the campfire and the quiet conversation stopped, knowing this was the announcement that the evening story time, hosted by the wrangler, was about to begin.
He cleared his throat, took a sip of whisky-laced coffee, and began, “You have probably wondered why I keep a rifle in the scabbard on my saddle and why it rests beside me where I bed down…this is bear country, and always will be.” Everyone had been cautioned about bears and wandering off; but the vice-president of the company, the one whose head office had arranged for this team-building retreat, had been making his own rules in this group of greenhorns over the last few days; and the wrangler figured there was no time like the present to send the safety message home, AGAIN! “The clearing filled with wild raspberries that we rode through this afternoon, is where it happened, and I can see by the look in your eyes you think I’m about to give you a lesson on wild fruit, but I’m not; although some say when the berries are ripe it looks like ketchup has been spattered all over the bushes.”
Taking another sip of coffee, he said, “It was our last morning on the trail and, like what will happen tomorrow morning, the ranch sends out a crew to meet us here to take the gear back, and provide us with a gourmet breakfast.” 
“While they were clearing up, and everyone was gathering their bedrolls, we discovered that one person was missing, so one of the crew and I went looking for him back down the trail towards the raspberry patch; and sure enough, we found him, passed out with raspberry juice smeared on his chin and an empty mickey bottle in his hand; and if that wasn’t enough to deal with, then we got to watched a bear fling the guys backpack into the air only to have it settle around its neck and when he tried to get it off he ripped it and ended up with an open map in its paws,” his shoulders moved in a quiet laugh, “we don’t know if he passed out from the booze or coming across the bear.”
The wrangler picked up his rifle, emptied the last of the coffee onto the dying embers, and said, “You might think I’m joshing, that’s up to you; but since tomorrow’s your last day in the saddle, I suggest you turn in and get a good night sleep, the crew will be here at daybreak with your breakfast, and there’d best be no wandering off.” |
July 2022
Photo Credit - CRLC - Saddle Up Saloon
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Half Full, Half Empty
Back in the day, in a saloon far away, or so the story goes, on the days they are open, the bartender arrives before daybreak to prepare the saloon’s specialty beverage. He sloshes the libation into a couple of glasses, to about the half full mark, or half empty, depending on which barstool you’re sitting on. Every day, it’s said, before the light of day, he swaggers to the table beside the window, the one he keeps the reserved sign on, and leaves one of the glasses in the same particular spot.
Legend has it, that he saunters back behind the bar, and waits, keeping an eye on the half filled, or half empty glass sitting on the table by the window. They say, eventually the light filters through the window, yet never at the same time; and then, it’s said, is when the reflections of the beverage float like green diamonds shimmering around the room. Rumour has it the bartender lifts the other glass from the bar, silently solutes the table and the photo he keeps in his wallet. A picture taken back in the day, or so the story goes, of a blonde girl he had done some conversing with, here in the saloon, sitting at the window table, consuming the saloon’s signature drink, a mint julep he had laced with a shot of green liqueur, or so the story goes. |
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Ann Edall-Robson
Author, Photographer, Lover of Life "Capturing moments others may never get to experience." |
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