Jeanne Owens, author

Blog about author Jeanne Owens and her writing


Have A Drink On Me – Stream of Consciousness Saturday #SoCS




She sat at the bar, nursing her drink. She idly watched the clear liquid slosh along the sides of the glass as she swirled it aimlessly, her mind wandering as she tried to come to grips with what had happened. She still couldn’t believe he was gone, that he would leave her alone.

A handsome young blonde man sat down on the empty stool next to her. “Hi,” he said cheerfully in a strong tenor voice. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“I have one, thanks,” she said glumly as she raised her glass to her lips and took a swallow.

“I see that. I also see that it seems like you’re going through a rough time right now and another drink probably wouldn’t hurt. So let me get you one. What are you having? Vodka? Gin? Maybe a white wine?”

“Water. I don’t drink.”

“Really? That’s odd. What are you doing in a bar then, if you don’t drink?”
“I just come for the atmosphere.”


“No. I’m the owner.”

“What?! I thought Smitty was the owner.”

“He was. He just passed away and left this place to me. I’m his daughter and his only family.”

“Oh, man. I didn’t know. Smitty was a good guy. What happened?”

She fought back tears and explained the situation.

“I’m sorry, he said tenderly.

He started to take her hand but she suddenly stood up and set a five dollar bill down in front of him. “Here,” she said with a small smile. “Thanks for offering me a drink, and for listening. Have a drink on me instead.”

She then walked behind the bar and set an empty glass down in front of him. “What would you like to drink?”


This story is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday:
The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS June 25/16




Invade – Tuesday Use It In A Sentence #tuesdayuseitinasentence

Terry heard a loud, scared cry followed by furious pounding on his door. He looked out his peephole to see his friend, Bill, on his doorstep, looking frightened. He opened the door and asked, “Bill, what’s wrong?”

Bill pointed at a small, grey figure walking down the sidewalk a couple of houses down, heading for a group of kids in costume further down the street. “Dude! It’s an alien! They’ve come to invade us!”

Terry wrinkled his nose at the smell of beer on Bill’s breath and frowned. “Dude. It’s just a kid in a costume. It’s Halloween. Remember? Just how much have you had to drink?”



This post is part of the Tuesday Use It In A Sentence prompt: