Friday Fictioneers 1/27/17 – The Date

This week’s Friday Fictioneers 100-Word challenge was hard for me. I just couldn’t get “connected” with those antique cars. But finally, thanks to Orville and Julie-Bell, I managed to come up with something. If you’d like to join the fun follow the link and get the details.

My story is below Al’s photo prompt.

PHOTO PROMPT © Al Forbes
Copyright Al Forbes

THE DATE

 

“Orville! Stop pretending we’re out of gas, and get me home!”

“But – ”

“Stop. Aunt Pearl always said never trust any man who drives a crank-up machine with no top.”

“Oh, Julie-Bell … Honey,” Orville cooed, wrapping his arms around her. “Just one little kiss.”

Julie squirmed, blushed, fluttered her eyelids. “Well …”

“That’s my girl.”

Just as Orville’s lips settled firmly in place, the sky burst open, and drenched the lovers.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Julie wailed.

Orville hopped out and went to crank the motor. “Well, at least I can skip the cold shower when I get home.”

 

 

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Saturday Mix – Lorraine

Lorraine is the challenger for this week’s Saturday Mix. She has offered three possibilities to stir up our writing egos. I was most drawn to the 25-word challenge based on the picture. But you may enjoy the other two as well. So if you like writing and want to stretch yourself a little, take a look at the details of the challenge here.

My story is below the picture.

untitled-4
Photo copyright: Lorraine

FROM THE CELLAR

A twelve-year-old, I gaped at the twister roaring toward us, tossing houses and livestock like matchsticks. From the cellar, I watched my world change forever.

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Saturday Mix 1/14/17 – ‘Last-Minute Decisions’

This week is the first time I’ve taken part in the “Mindlovesmisery” writing challenges. This week we are to write a story in 100 words or less. The host site offered a picture for inspiration, but I put that aside because the idea I wanted to work with didn’t fit that particular picture. To take part you can visit here.


wedding-cakeLAST-MINUTE DECISIONS

The auditorium was full of guests, the organist waiting for her cue. The best man stood at the door, ready to enter as soon as the groom came back inside. He’d just stepped out for some air. Where the heck was he?

Suddenly Carter hurried into the room, passed by his best man, and entered the auditorium. Looking at the guests, he took a deep breath and spoke:

“Sorry folks. Seems my bride eloped with someone else.” He laughed. “She took the car I’d arranged for my own last-minute escape.”

 

 

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Friday Fictioneers 12/23/16: Dear Diary

To get involved in this week’s 100-word story challenge, visit Rochelle’s site.  This week’s photo is courtesy of Roger Bultot. My story’s below the photo.

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Dear Diary,

Tonight after play practice, Sheila, Janice, and I drove to Rudy’s Drive-In for burgers and root beers. We’d planned on going inside, but as soon as we drove up, I recognized Jimmy’s car. He was with Roberta!!!

I talked the girls into settling for curb service so that I could scrunch down in the back seat and watch Jimmy’s car. He and Roberta were totally absorbed in each other – laughing, having a great time. When our burgers came, I couldn’t swallow a single bite.

 

 

 

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Adoption – flash fiction

I wrote this story almost two years ago for a flash-fiction writing challenge, and I’m not sure why it’s been on my mind and heart the past few days. But it has been, and I figured that was a good reason to give it another few minutes in the spotlight. 

small-brown-dog-pub-dom-raincarnation40
raincarnation40 / pixabay

Hair bristled on my neck. I was bein’ followed. I whirled ’round and found Zanzibar ploddin’ behind me, head down, tail draggin’.

“Hey, boy,” I said, squattin’ down. “Where’s ol’ Toby?”

Zanzibar whined, licked my hand, whined again. Somethin’ was wrong. Zanzibar and that ol’ hobo were thicker’n fam’ly. They came through here first week of ever month. Stayed ’till the coal train came through and stopped at the crossin’. But this weren’t the first week. Where was ol’ Toby?

I hunted three days for Toby; no luck. Reckon that lung problem finally got ‘im. Zanzibar’s tail’s still draggin’, and he won’t let me out of ‘is sight. Reckon I got me a dog.

~~~

Friday Fictioneers: October 28, 2016

I haven’t had opportunity to take part in Friday Fictioneers for a while, so I’m enjoying getting back into the swing of things this week. The photo is courtesy of Peter Abbey To take part in the 100-word story challenge visit Rochelle here.  My story is below the picture.

PHOTO PROMPT © Peter Abbey

A HOUSE DIVIDED

The lush Georgia countryside stretched and drowsed along the river. Union troops who had crossed the enclosed bridge lay behind trees and bushes, rifles ready. Their informant had guaranteed the Rebs would be hauling cannon and ammunition across the bridge just before sundown.

Bennett tasted bile; his heart pounded. From the time he’d made his choice, he’d known this moment was bound to come, but he wasn’t ready. Men and wagons approached the bridge, unaware, steadily making their way across. Leading the contingent was the younger brother he’d helped raise. Tears traced Bennett’s dirty cheeks as he aimed his rifle.

 

 

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Prompt Nights # 29: Loss & Madness

sad_face-sweat-greenThis week’s prompt delves into the various aspects of loss and the volatile  emotions it can cause — and considers the possibility that there is a strong connection between loss and madness. I’m offering two pieces for this challenge. The first is a poem that considers loss without the madness — although making the decision to let the wrong person go from our lives could very possibly help keep us from going mad. The second piece is a work of prose that I actually posted in the past in connection with an entirely different challenge, but it seemed to fit this one so well that I thought it deserved a second bow. It does include a degree of madness connected with loss

DECISION

Let him go.
It’s time to admit you’ve been a fool
And take possession back of your own soul.

At first encounter
You saw the good was mixed with bad
The right choice then by now would make you glad.

But foolish child,
You were intrigued, so closer crept
And threw out counsel that you should have kept.

“Do not touch.”
Three words so easy to understand;
Unguardedly, you opened heart and hand.

It’s harder now,
But still you have to make the choice.
And this time listen to the wiser voice.

You call it love,
But such a love that’s unrequited
Just leaves the soul living life one-sided.

Even if
He claimed to share the love you feel,
The danger of forbidden fruit is real.

Let him go.
And pray the feelings soon will die.
To hope for more would be to live a lie.

Let him go.



SECOND THOUGHTS

I’ve thought about you countless times this past year. I sometimes wish I hadn’t been so hasty to make the decision. There are days when I wake up thinking how good it would be to still have you beside me for a few hours. And, of course, every time I make the curried chicken casserole I think about you. It’s downright lonely in the kitchen these days. And I don’t even cook most of the time. I do carry-out.

I don’t order from our favorite Chinese place, though, and I don’t go in there anymore because they almost always ask me, with sadness in their eyes, how I’m doing now that you’re gone. That gentle couple who own the place really got to like you. I think you were probably their favorite customer during the three years we ate there. I miss the Chinese place, and some of the other haunts we made our own. But I’m finding new interests and new friends, and things will work out.

But — sometimes — on a summer evening — when the windows are open to the gentle night air and someone’s laughter floats across the breeze, it reminds me of your laugh. I think that’s one of the things I miss most about you. You were so abandoned when you thought something was funny. You never held back.

But then, as well as I can remember, you never held back on any emotion. And that fact, of course, is what finally led me to make my decision. You just couldn’t seem to hold back on your feelings for all the other men in your life — even my best friend — a man I’d thought would have my back through thick and thin — especially after all we’d been through together in the war. But you were just too much for him. He fell just like all the others. And so I made the decision.

Yeah — as I consider it all again now — I know it was the right thing to do. It put a stop to the hurting for me and for all the rest of ’em too.

The only thing is that — on nights like tonight — with the fragrance of the roses you planted drifting in from the garden — and the radio playing an old song we used to dance to — well — I have to admit to myself at least — I do feel just a little sorry that I poisoned you.


 

To participate in this week’s challenge, visit “A Dash of Sunny.”

 

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100-Word Challenge for Grownups # 186

Julia has offered us another 100-word challenge this week with the following prompt:

“… looking back, I remember …”

I have to confess that I’ve cheated a tad. I’m about 19 words over, but I just didn’t have any more time to spend cutting it down further.

 

COMPUTER READING - TRQUS

STARTING OVER

“Looking back, I remember how easy everything was – especially communication.”
“Tell me, Grandpa.”
“Computers ran everything, including phones and automobiles.”
“Really!”
“And almost everyone could be reached by Internet.”
“I’ve heard about Internet.”
“It’s been twenty-two years since the grids went down.”
“And that shut everything down?”
“Yep. Nothing could be manufactured, vehicles couldn’t run, almost all communication shut down. Our nation had been attacked by E-bombs, and our irresponsible government had no back-ups.”
“Did we fight back?”
“Couldn’t. No way to fire missiles, no planes. And once we were down, other free nations were attacked. The whole free world reduced to walking, writing with wooden pencils, and bartering goods for food and water. Grandson … your generation has a big job ahead of it.”

 

 

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Friday Fictioneers 6/8/16 –

To join the fun of Friday Fictioneers 100-Word Story Challenge, just follow the link for the details. Photo by Jan Marler Morrill.  My story is below the picture.

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Marler Morrill

 

Sebastian had said, “Follow the alley until it curves right. Stop at the blue door in the wall. Knock four times.”

Okay, here was the turn. Yes … the blue door. Four short raps. She held her breath. … No answer. … She waited. … Still no answer.

Drat the man!  Why all this mystery? Couldn’t they just meet at a cafe?

Lying on the floor inside, Sebastian stretched his arm to reach the door handle. But the knife in his back had done its work. He lost consciousness as the girl turned in frustration and left the alley.

Friday Fictioneers 4/29/16 – ‘Sales Appeal’

I haven’t had a chance to participate in Friday Fictioneers in a while, and I’m just getting in under the wire this week. But the picture conjured up this little story, and I couldn’t pass up sharing it. The picture prompt is courtesy of Mary Shipman. My story is below the picture.

PHOTO PROMPT © Mary Shipman

SALES APPEAL

“Pops, when you asked me to come and help with the store, I had no idea you’d been losing money the past ten years. What’s the deal with all these tools and auto parts? And your line of pipe and chewing tobacco is weighing down the shelves.”

“I’m just well-stocked.”

“But your only customers the month I’ve been here are genteel ladies. They don’t buy that stuff.”

“Yeah, the men never shop here.”

“Well, get me the ladder. I’ll fix that.”

(Two hours later)

“Ivan, you can’t hang all those women’s undergarments from the rafters! It will embarrass our customers.”

“Not the customers we’re after. You just wait and see. We’ll have men customers coming out our ears by next week.”

 

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100-Word Challenge For Grown Ups – # 176

Visit Julia’s Place to get the details so you can participate with your own 100-word story. The prompt this week: “… but I thought we were friends …”

 

BLONDY06FRIENDS???

“But I thought we were friends, Trish.”

“We are friends, Kara, and quit your whining. It isn’t going to help. I just choose not to be part of your plan.”

“But I need someone to stand guard for me while I slip into his office.”

“Then you’ll have to try one of your other pals, because it’s not going to be me. We could get arrested!”

Kara crossed her arms over her chest and heaved a tortuous sigh. “I’d do it for you.”

Trish smirked and rose to leave the room. “Of course you would; you’re a lot more stupid than I am.”

 

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Friday Fictioneers – 11/27/15 — Beloved Sentinel

This week’s Friday Fictioneers challenge. The photo is courtesy of Sandra Crook. My story is below the picture.

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

BELOVED SENTINEL

“Does she stand on that cliff every day?” Tobias asked.

“Every day,” Raulf replied, looking at the young girl wrapped in her woolen shawl, black hair windswept like a flag.

“But five years! Surely she doesn’t still hope.”

Raulf nodded his head. “Serena insists Jamie will not fail her. He promised, and she must keep trusting.”

Tobias frowned. “She’s so beautiful. I’d gladly have her for my wife. There must be some way to make her see that she needs to move on with her life.”

“She’ll move on … when she sees his sails on the horizon … and not before.”

~~~

 

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Friday Fictioneers — 10/2/15 — ‘Humpty Dumpty’

Hurray,  I’m doing the Friday Fictioneers challenge this week. Just can’t seem to get it in every week, but I do like to take part when I can. If you’d like to join in and write a 100-word story based on this picture — by Marie Gayle Stratford — just follow the link to Rochelle’s place for the easy instructions.

COMPUTER MOUSE PIC - STRATFORD

 

HUMPTY DUMPTY

 

Trying to look casual, he wiggled across the desk. Sherry, his owner, was on break. This was his only chance if he were ever going to connect with that hot pink number over on Wally’s desk. Wow, she was something else!

He was looking cool in his blue striped suit; she’d be impressed.

Whew!  This was hard work, but he was almost to the edge. Then came the dangerous part, but, hey, a mouse had to do what a mouse had to do. Love was worth the risk.

“Okay … at the edge. Now, one big jump, and …”

“Hey, Sherry, your mouse just fell in the floor and broke into a dozen pieces!”

~~~

 

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Friday Fictioneers, 6/19/15 – ‘The Life You Save May Be Your Own’

Friday Fictioneers 100-Word Story Challenge

Why is it that it’s always on days when I have a thousand other things I’m supposed to be doing that the Friday Fictioneers picture grabs my imagination and won’t let go?  I really don’t mind, except for the fact that I feel to doggone GUILTY the whole time I’m writing the story because I know I’m supposed to be using the time for something else.  Aaahhhhh, I just had another thought: Perhaps that aspect of it adds to my creativity …….

ROCHELLE'S CHANDELIER
Photo Copyright: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


THE LIFE YOU SAVE MAY BE YOUR OWN

The image of that chandelier hanging from the scroll-work ceiling is emblazoned on my mind for life. My enchantment with the artistry of that ceiling was almost my downfall. I still don’t know what sound made me look to the right in time to see Sheila leaning over the top-floor banister, aiming her rifle at me. I choked on my questions — and my scream. But the railing broke away a mere second before she fired, so the bullet missed me.

When I’d filed through that railing, re-painting it, I’d hoped it would do the job when Sheila leaned on it as she loved to do. But I’d had no idea how much my own life depended on my success.

~~~

Friday Fictioneers, 5/8/15 — ‘Soul Ties’

This week’s Friday Fictioneers photo just pulled the following story right out of me. Had no idea it was in there, but that’s half the fun of writing, isn’t it? Photo is courtesy of Madison Woods.  My story is below the picture.

BUCKET WITH FAUCET
Photo – © Madison Woods

 

SOUL TIES

“Margo, you’ve been staring at that spigot for twenty minutes.”
“What?” Margo suddenly looked at Jane.
“Why are you just staring at that spigot?”
“I was … uh … I was remembering ….”
“Remembering what?”
“You know … the prison camp.”
“What prison?”
“We were each allowed only one small cup a day.”
“You were never in a prison camp!”
“Yes.”
“I’ve known you all your seventeen years. You’ve never been in prison.”
“The Nazis ….”
“That was your great-great-great grandmother. You never even met her.”
Margo turned questioning eyes back to the spigot. “But I remember … being so desperately thirsty … and how slowly the water ran out ….”

 

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