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! |
The Letter - January 2023
Photo Credit - CRLC - Saddle Up Saloon
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Sitting at her writing desk, Linda re-read the flowing, handwritten words in the letter from her far-away best friend.
The letters back and forth across the country kept them up-to-date with the goings on in each of their worlds, while giving them the chance to use the penmanship they had learned so many years ago in grade school. Millie’s latest letter had caused Linda some mind-boggling dismay and food for thought as she told her about the new phone her grandson had bought her with the intension of making her life easier. He had made custom apps for her that included all of her frequently called numbers, she could check the house while she was out or away, and a direct dial app to the pickle ball club where her grandson worked. Everything in Millie’s life was now accessible with one tap on the screen of her phone, even dictating and sending letters as emails.
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Writer's Inspiration - December 2022
Photo Credit - CRLC - Saddle Up Saloon
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Immersed in the pages of one of his vintage books, he wondered where the ideas came from that inspired the writer behind the words he loved to read.
The sun shining through the window made him drowsy, the words blurred, and his head started to bobble as he fought the urge to loll back on the pillow. He saw the fist come towards him, unable to move before it connected with his jaw, sending him spiraling into the pages of the book he had been reading. A sense of time travel swirled past his eyes, his brain trying to focus on where he was going. 
Landing on his feet, hands on his hips, he was not surprised to find the cape around his shoulders, fluttering in the breeze, his foreboding stance and brooding dark eyes daring his foe to make a move.
Page after page, the writer introduced him to the storyline and the rest of the supporting cast of characters he had only ever read about until he finally found himself balancing on the words The End, as he lay at the bottom of the stairs, the cape was gone, and only a sore jaw where the fist had hit him as a memento. Looking around, baffled at how he had come to be in another room, he bounded up the stairs, stopping at the top, raising his arms above his head, shouting in triumph, "I know how writers get inspired and now I can write mine!" |
Chicknastics - October 2022
Photo Credit - CRLC - Saddle Up Saloon
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Cloe Chicklit woke early every morning to the sound of her uncle crowing his voice hoarse.
She left the house quietly munching on the corn niblets she always gathered the day before among the tall stalks where she secretly went to practice. Day after day, all summer long, she danced her routine to the songs her friend the robin, sparrow, and house finch sang from overhead. It was the end of summer when the sound of machinery harvesting the corn, told her it was the last day she could practice along the long straight rows in the cornfield; and it was only a few days until the competition would happen. From the outside it looked like another hen house, but inside was a different story when friends and family clucked, cackled, and crowed when they gathered.
The ducks visiting flapped their wings in appreciation of the participant’s moves; while the geese’s loud honking set everyone into a feathered frenzy when Cloe moved to the middle of the floor.
The silence that followed was the perfect prelude to the wild bird chorus singing in the rafters as Cloe dipped, strutted, and danced into her secret move, a straight line run ending with a one-wing walk over and a wink towards the judges that clinched her first place at the Annual Chicknastics Tournament. |
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Ann Edall-Robson
Author, Photographer, Lover of Life "Capturing moments others may never get to experience." |
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#AnnEdallRobson #FromWhereICome #FlashFiction #ranchtradition #ranchlife #chickendance #chickencoop #cornfield #gravelroad #storiesofthepast #annualtrounament #PromptWriting #CarrotRanchLiteraryCommunity #CowsinoNight #FromWhereImFromGuidesMeToWhereImGoing #AnnEdallRobsonPhotography #CapturingMomentsOthersMayNeverGetToExperience #CozyMysteries #cookbooks #WesternHeritage #TheOldWays #RuralLiving #WhoaBackUpStop
september 2022
Photo Credit - CRLC - Saddle Up Saloon
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Lost in a book - part 1“Did you see them?”
“The man with the green hair and the woman with the blue boots. They’re waving at us.” 'Keep walking, don't look their way. Oh my gosh! I think they’re following us!” “We’ll be okay if we just keep moving towards that boat in the grain field.” “Don’t you mean the boat in the lake?” “No, the one in the sea of gold waving us to go in that direction.” “They are still behind us, now they’re hollering.” “Maybe we should see what they want.” "No, let’s go this way and see what happens.” “But won’t the boat be safer?” “The wind’s come up, it’s floated away. We need to think about this. What does the next page in the book say?” “There’s a train station at the end of this street” “We’ll never get there in time. Keep walking, it’ll be fine. See, there’s the bistro. The one on page 23 from the book.” “If we stop, they’ll catch up with us. Don’t look back, keep walking until we get there.” “There they are, sitting in the bistro. How did they get here before us?” “Do you think we should introduce ourselves?” “Noooo! Ruuuun!” lost in a book - Part 2“Miss Ann, Miss Ann.”
“Mmmhmm…What is it, Buttons?" “You were mumbling, flailing your arms, and thrashing your feet." “I must have fallen asleep while I was reading.” “Well, you almost hit me with that book when it dropped off your lap.” "Sorry Buttons, it’s a great book filled with 99-word stories that take me to the most interesting places, with the oddest of people.” “How can someone write a story that’s only 99 words?” “Sometimes you’re lucky and it just comes to you. Sometimes you dream it and when you wake up you play with the scenes in the dream to make a story.” “You make that up too? I hear you’re pretty good at that.” “Buttons!” “I gotta go. It’s time for me to wander the ranch. Remember to latch the barn door when you leave. I don't want those green-haired, blue-boot-wearing people coming back to the barn.” “Were you reading my book?” “Now, Miss Ann, you’re the one who created me and, as far as I know, I don’t read.” “But how did you know…? ” “It's best I don’t say.” “Buttons, don’t you walk away without telling me. Did you really see them?” “You tell me. It’s your story, not mine.” |
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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.” |
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. |
July 2022
Photo Credit - CRLC - Saddle Up Saloon
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Ann Edall-Robson
Author, Photographer, Lover of Life "Capturing moments others may never get to experience." |
Be the first to get all our latest news and updates.
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#AnnEdallRobson #FromWhereICome #FlashFiction #ranchtradition #ranchlife #freedomroad #gravelroad #storiesofthepast #restingplace #PromptWriting #CarrotRanchLiteraryCommunity #CowsinoNight #FromWhereImFromGuidesMeToWhereImGoing #AnnEdallRobsonPhotography #CapturingMomentsOthersMayNeverGetToExperience #CozyMysteries #cookbooks #WesternHeritage #TheOldWays #RuralLiving #WhoaBackUpStop
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Ann Edall-Robson
Author, Photographer, Lover of Life "Capturing moments others may never get to experience." |
Be the first to get all our latest news and updates.
|
#AnnEdallRobson #FromWhereICome #FlashFiction #ranchtradition #ranchlife #freedomroad #gravelroad #storiesofthepast #restingplace #PromptWriting #CarrotRanchLiteraryCommunity #CowsinoNight #FromWhereImFromGuidesMeToWhereImGoing #AnnEdallRobsonPhotography #CapturingMomentsOthersMayNeverGetToExperience #CozyMysteries #cookbooks #WesternHeritage #TheOldWays #RuralLiving #WhoaBackUpStop