#RainbowSnippets: Wind Me Up, One More Time

Welcome to Rainbow Snippets!

Every Saturday or Sunday, those participating share six sentences of LGBTQIA+ fiction on their blogs. It can be their own. It can be someone else’s. It just needs to be LGBTQIA+.

To read a wide variety of samples of LGBTQIA+ fiction, go to…


For mine, Grace and Nathalie will continue where they left off last week in Wind Me Up, One More Time…I had to backtrack a little, forgive me…(bows apologetically)

“This is why the train was built, right?” Someone once said that, someone not nearly as interesting as Nathalie. Someone who described Verity’s as ‘history’ with a grave, sour face. No need to add a hiss to a story. It had a way of slurping all the excitement out of a tale.

“The train along with the ships which dock at our harbor.” Nathalie turned to glance back at the path they’d taken along the water. 

Like what you’re reading? Want to read more? Here are buy links…

Mischief Corner Books/Shenanigans Press: https://www.mischiefcornerbooks.com/wind-me-up-one-more-time.html#/

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B081LPX2WH/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Wind+Me+Up%2C+One+More+Time&qid=1573974211&s=books&sr=1-1

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/wind-me-up-one-more-time

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wind-me-up-one-more-time-ks-trenten/1134959345



Paula’s Prompts: Wednesday Words

On September 16, 2020, P.T. Wyant posted at ptwyant.com a Wednesday Words prompt involving a cushion, two old ladies, and a foul odor.

This painfully personal poem was the result…

Two old ladies sit with a cushion between them

Trying not to discuss the foul odor in the air

It’s always there, no matter how hard they try to keep the room clean

They can no longer see all the dust and dirt

Even stains elude their weary eyes

For cleaning tires them, even though they try to keep a tidy house

The maids they pooled their resources only hire only steal from them

Bully them and talk down to them in patronizing voices

Better to let the maids go

Better to try to stay clean themselves

They bathe every day, trying not to touch certain places

Certain parts of their body they try to avoid

They’re too old for that nonsense

Yet the aches, the sores, the growing pain in those hidden spots

They’re growing too persistent to ignore

They gnaw at the women when they try to sleep

It’s embarrassing to talk about

It’s not ladylike at all

It’s not the sort of thing they can talk about with anyone

Certainly not a doctor

They ignore the pain, put on their clothes

Hide behind mouldering finery and smiles

Talking about anything but the smell in the room

Hoping with all their hearts it’s not them.