House of Flawed Flowers — Friday Fictioneers 6/5/19

I haven’t played “Friday Fictioneers” in a long time, but today when I saw the picture I couldn’t help myself. I take no responsibility for the subject matter. It was the jacket hanging on the end of the banister that did it. Honestly — I couldn’t help it.  🙂  And the weirdest thing is that it came out at exactly 99 words without any editing. Go figure.

Here’s the picture prompt courtesy of Ceayr

ceayr-3

HOUSE OF FLAWED FLOWERS

It was a unique little operation. Nothing like the “red-light” districts Derek had been used to. No money actually changed hands here. Men who used the service hung their jackets on the end of the stair banister with the fee in the pocket. Once they were ensconced upstairs, Madam Beatrice relieved the jacket of its contents, and replaced it for the client to retrieve when finished. She even included an innocuous receipt for tax purposes: “One House Special – $100.” Derek had a desk drawer full of those receipts, but he couldn’t use them. His wife was his accountant.

 

 


 

Letter To Naughty Nita — Daily Post Prompt: Sympathy

 

Dear Nita,

PAPER AND PENCIL

I simply have no sympathy for you.
You’ve played loose and wild for many years.
Stolen hearts and broken homes amassed;
You’ve been the fear of many wives for years.

I simply have no sympathy for you.
In my opinion — and in those I hear —
You’ve fin’ly gotten justice rightly earned,
And you’re the one, at last, drowning in tears.


Daily Post Prompt: Sympathy

 

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100-Word Challenge for Grownups, Week 149: ‘A Dirge for April Fools’

Well, I seem to be in some kind of MOOD today. Julia posted her 100-word story challenge this morning, and chose a light, springy, happy subject: April. So what did I do with it?  See below, but please don’t ask me why?  I simply have no idea.

Exif JPEGA DIRGE FOR APRIL FOOLS

April. Marcus had promised to come to her in April. She’d have a white gown and bouquet of pink azaleas.

February. She’d believed Peter when he’d told her of Marcus’ infidelity and comforted her grief. So she’d married Peter on the last day of March – mere hours before Marcus’ brother arrived, bringing her the coffin containing her beloved’s body – slain at Peter’s hand.

April 1st. She buried Marcus and planted a pink azalea bush upon his grave. That night, as Peter slept, she drove a knife into his heart – and then into her own – her final breath a benediction: “Rest in peace, Marcus.”

 

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