Anxiety or Fear: Which Is It?

Some people say, “anxiety” while others say, “fear” so which is it for you? I have anxiety. It is well controlled at this point, but there was a time when I was anxious to the point of frequent panic attacks. Let’s start with some definitions. First, anxiety is an uncomfortable state of inner turmoil. It … Read more

Sheep In Wolf’s Clothing

This is a flash fiction challenge where we provide you with a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. My challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided.

Please include the photo with your bit of flash and a link back to this site. Do not forget to click on the blue guy and add your link so that others can enjoy your story too!

Finish the story begins with: “She was unaware that she was being watched.”

Please feel free to upload your story by clicking on the little blue fellow below to add your story to the list! I invite any readers of my story to participate by writing your own stories and submitting them. Let me know if you do so that I can read them. Susan 🙂


Genre: flash fiction

Word Count: 146

“Sheep In Wolf’s Clothing”


“She was unaware that she was being watched.”

A “sheep in wolf’s clothing” otherwise known as a hunter was observing the wolf’s actions. He was not a nice man, but one who appreciated only guns and gun rights. He was definitely part of the Pro-Gun lobby.

The man would off her with just one shot once those damn pups got out of his way. He may even shoot those lousy pups but why waste his bullets? They wouldn’t last long after she was dead. The hunter had no respect for nature, God’s creations, or animal rights. “All was fair…”, so he thought.

Suddenly, a loud noise breaks the deafening silence. The alpha female wolf and her pups retreat into their den and escape death once again.

The sheep in wolf’s clothing retreats after exclaiming “Damn!”, with his tail tucked between his legs. “All was fair…”


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Cranky Old Man

Cranky Old Man is a poem that describe how an elderly gentleman felt while in a nursing home near the end of his years. Many times as people grow older and more feeble and dependent, people and society disregard them. We forget the value of their lives and their history after they age. We disregard how they contributed to our society and even how they contributed to our own upbringing.

This poem posted on Facebook a few weeks ago and I thought it too important not to share it with you. Therefore, I repost this in honor of his poem discovered after his death, “Cranky Old Man.” It is an honor to introduce Max Philisaire. Thank you for sharing your wisdom… Susan



When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an Australian country town, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value. Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they found this poem. It’s quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.
One nurse took her copy to Melbourne. The old man’s sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country and appearing in magazines for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.
And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this ‘anonymous’ poem winging across the Internet.

Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . .. . .What do you see?
What are you thinking .. . when you’re looking at me?
A cranky old man, . . . . . .not very wise,
Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . . .. with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles his food .. . … . . and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . .’I do wish you’d try!’
Who seems not to notice . . .the things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . .. . . A sock or shoe?
Who, resisting or not . . . … lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . .The long day to fill?
Is that what you’re thinking?. .Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse .you’re not looking at me.
I’ll tell you who I am . . . . .. As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, .. . . . as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of Ten . .with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters .. . . .. . who love one another
A young boy of Sixteen . . . .. with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . .. . . a lover he’ll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty . . . heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows .. .. .that I promised to keep.
At Twenty-Five, now . . . . .I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . .. . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . .. With ties that should last.
At Forty, my young sons .. .have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me . . to see I don’t mourn.
At Fifty, once more, .. …Babies play ’round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me . . . . My wife is now dead.
I look at the future … . . . . I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing .. . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . And the love that I’ve known.
I’m now an old man . . . . . . .. and nature is cruel.
It’s jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles .. .. . grace and vigour, depart.
There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass . A young man still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells
I remember the joys . . . . .. . I remember the pain.
And I’m loving and living . . . . . . . life over again.
I think of the years, all too few . . .. gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people .. . . . .. . . open and see.
Not a cranky old man .
Look closer . . . . see .. .. . .. …. . ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within. We will all, one day, be there, too!
The best and most beautiful things of this world can’t be seen or touched. They must be felt by the heart!

In closing,  I encourage you to look inside your inner soul. Examine your heart and your attitudes toward the elderly. Do you treat them respectfully? Are you able to look beyond the current picture with insight and realize who they are? I am one of those who is aging, having reached 63 years young. I see how sometimes people disregard what I say or look upon me as “old-fashioned.” I fear a society that discards their aged as valueless because they are not the magical norm age of our society. We look on them as “cranky old men” as the poem addresses.


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Finally Their Escape!

  Mondays Finish the Story – January 19th, 2015 My challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided. Don’t forget to use the opening sentence… Please include the photo with your bit of flash and a link back to this site. Finish the story begins with: “They finally made their escape.” Please … Read more



I am alone but not lonely.
I gave up on friendship
…in my childhood years.
But I still remember the laughter,
the frolicking, the silliness,
the touching, and the joy.
When did it go?
Where did I misplace it?
Was it when I found frolicking
with you led to only emptiness?
The pain…is that why I left?

But, I digress.
…I am alone not lonely.
I choose safety over friendship.
I choose acceptance over joy.
I choose living over love.
I choose to be alone.

Author Notes
Random thoughts and memories of my childhood.

© Susan Langer. All rights reserved, 8 hours ago

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Domestic Violence Reblog: Why Doesn’t She Just Leave?

This is a Domestic Violence reblog about the impact that abuse has on the victims. Violence and abuse are experienced not only by the victim being physically abused but also the children in the home who witness the abuse again and again. Domestic Violence is a generational curse on society that continues to perpetuate itself. The curse stops … Read more