50 Word Story: Black, White or Blue

I feel the pain with my last dying breath as the warmth of crimson surrounds me.  My legacy will be the chalk outline I’m soon to become ‘til washed away by the acid rains.

Whether black, white or blue, does it really matter when you’re dead.

…Death is color blind!


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

50 Word Story: Human Face of Immigration

Juan’s tears evaporate before they can run down his burned and blistered cheeks. Face down in the sand he see a vision of his wife and three small children.  

What started out as a journey to freedom and a better life is now about to leave him for the vultures.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

50 Word Story: Lovers Dance

Her ruby red lips speak volumes in their silence, parted and warm to the taste.  Nothing more in the throes of passion do I need to be fulfilled as skin glistens upon skin.

Natural and beautiful, this lovers dance enshrined in antiquity shall spin on until the end of time.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

50 Word Story: The Cesspool

We are falling backwards; so much anger, hatred, prejudice bubbling to the surface.  We’re just  fooling ourselves if we think we have progressed.  Look at the cesspool in which we wade searching for leadership. Certainly this must make us the laughingstock of the free world thanks to our presidential candidates.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

50 Word Story: The Vagrant

Dressed in their finest, the mogul and his mistress approached the steps of the marble behemoth.  They were running late for the gubernatorial ball and the inconvenience of the vagrant lying before them just served to infuriate.

Yelling obscenities at his still body…they did not realize he was dead.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Allergic to E Challenge

Thank you Carol at writersdream9.wordpress.com for choosing me to take part in this challenge, I enjoyed it very much.

The rules are as follows:

  • Write a paragraph
  • Do not use any words that include the letter “e” in their spelling
  • Challenge at least 5 others to do the same

My Paragraph:

Blood flows from my mouth.  That airbag hit with such fury that it split my lip. What was that fawn doing standing in my way?  I couldn’t hit him, so my victim was a guard rail which took my car and my lip with it.  Waiting for a cop to show up was agonizing and with all of this blood on my shirt I look as if I am a shooting fatality.  All I know is that if I had to do it again I would…without vacillation.


  1. Emma at emma1951.wordpress.com
  2. Jen at blogitorloseit.com
  3. Serena at journeyofmst.com
  4. Rosy at sharingmemyselfandi.wordpress.com
  5. Celestine at readinpleasure.wordpress.com

If you do not wish to participate that is perfectly fine, I just wanted you to know that I find you all very talented and that I enjoy your writing very much.  Have fun with it if you choose…it really is quite challenging.

A Personal Story, Is this Coincidence or Something Else?

I feel compelled to share a brief story with you  that has both touched me greatly and amazed me at the same time.

Yesterday afternoon I completed and posted a poem, “Wither Away“, that was a very personal poem about my grandmother.  Suffering with chest pains, she had been diagnosed with congestive heart failure about 4 months ago and her doctors gave her 6 months to a year to live.   The doctors also made it clear that there was nothing that they could do other than to prescribe medications to make her comfortable.

Initially after diagnosis she had more good days than bad, but of late the opposite was true and she became unable to get out of bed without being carried.   As you can imagine this is a very hard thing to watch happen to someone you love.

Now to my point.   Whether by fate, a premonition unrecognized by me, coincidence, or something else that I can’t explain I received a call from my parents last night to tell me that my grandmother had died early yesterday morning.   They chose to wait to tell me until I had gotten home from work so that I didn’t have this on my mind all day.

I know that this type of thing is not unheard of, but it does make me wonder how something as seemingly random as posting a poem could turn out to be so prophetic, at least to me anyway.  I guess it will just have to remain one of those strange occurrences that happens to a person during the course of their life.

My grandmother was 92 years old when she passed on.  I will miss her deeply.


March 16, 1920 – June 7, 2012

Rest In Peace