50 Word Story: Conquering America

Gentle spirals of smoke rose from earthen huts, children played and women performed their chores while their men hunted for game.  Such a peaceful site in the face of impending carnage.  

The army gathered on the distant rise preparing to launch its attack to conquer the land these people worshiped.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

50 Word Story: Wasted Life

Brochures piled upon the bed, edges rabbit-eared from years of wasted dreams; the world lay before him if only he had the time.  As a child Jim dreamt of seeing Europe, Italy, Spain, but it is not meant to be.

A lifetime prison sentence has destroyed all of his plans.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

50 Word Story: Maybe It Was Time

“What what the hell do you want from me”; John screamed at his crying wife! No matter how much overtime he worked there was never enough money to cover the bills.

The only thing he could think of was that maybe it was time to cash in the life insurance.


~~ 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