Sunday Photo Fiction 10-22-2017

The moyacht motored down the street attracting the attention of one and all, shining its glory in the mid-day sun. People stared.

“What the heck is that?”

“I’m glad you asked,” crowed the salesman. “This, my friends, is the newest in modern technical creations.”

“What does it do?”

“What does it do, you ask? This, my friends, is a moyacht. You laugh now, but when you are the only house in the neighborhood without one in the driveway….

“The moyacht, my friends, is a combination motor-home and yacht.”

More laughter.

“Imagine touring the country in your motor-home. One can only see the treasures of this great country so many times. Think how many other wonders are in this world!

“Suppose you want to visit Jamaica. To do so, you have to leave your motor-home behind. But with a moyacht, friends, you simple drive into the water and sail away for another beautiful adventure.”

People started to murmur.

“Line up, line up, my friends. First come, first served and there are only so many moyachts to go around.”

People started to crowd around him, fighting for a place in line.

Ah, a sucker born every moment!


(Many thanks to Ryan Stiles for coining the wonderful word moyacht.)


JSW Prompt Response 10-20-2017 for JSW Prompt 10-16-2017

Feel free to join in and respond to the prompt. Please try to keep your response under 300 words. If you reply, I will re-blog your post to my site (sometimes I am slow, but I get there).

photo by csk


The highway seemed to go on forever, straight white lines boundaries of my world. I glanced over at the elephant and the horse. Me. The car. Two stuffed animals. All that was left.

She’d loved that damned elephant. Had cried when I’d given it to her.

Embarrassing, but a guy learns to handle those things.

How was I going to handle things now?

She’d been so pretty.  Ful of light and fun and laughter. My angel. Light of my life.

She’d been all that was left.

Behind me, distant but growing, I heard the sounds of the sirens. If I’d had the courage, I would have put the gun into my mouth and pulled the trigger.

When the cops surrounded me, I pulled to the shoulder. I couldn’t run anymore. I didn’t care anymore.

As they cuffed me, I looked back at my car. At that damned elephant.

This is what you’ve done, it seemed to say.

A State Trooper shoved me into the car, leaned in behind me. “I’m arresting you for the murder of your daughter.”

It was an accident, I wanted to say, but didn’t.

I never said it.

Dreamed of pink elephants ever night in prison.


Response 10-15-2017 to JSW Prompt 10-9-2017

Feel free to join in and respond to the prompt. Please try to keep your response under 300 words. If you reply, I will re-blog your post to my site (sometimes I am slow, but I get there).

I know you might not believe me, but it’s true. Honest.

It was a moose who started the whole damn thing.

Okay, so I was home alone on Saturday night. I woulda been out with my friends, but I’d been grounded.

Grounded? Yeah, I know. So lame, but my folks don’t mess around with punishments. And if I left and they found out….. you don’t want to know.

It was Halloween and I was angry because I was missing all the candy, even with Cindy promising to bring me a bag. Sitting there, trying to figure out if I wanted to watch “Friday the 13th” or “Nightmare on Elm Street.” Freddy or Jason. I missed being too old for “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.” But if you ever tell anybody I said that, I’ll call you a liar.

Anyway, back to the moose.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever heard a moose, but they sound spooky as hell. They certainly don’t sound like any creature I want to meet in the dark.

About the time I popped “Nightmare on Elm Street” – sorry Freddy – into my computer, I heard it, sounding like it was just outside my window.  I jumped up to look but didn’t see anything and it’s hard to miss a moose.

This happened again and again. Moose call. Jumping up. No moose.

I lost track of the movie. I got pissed at the Moose. I know, like that’d do any good.

Around about midnight, I grabbed my jacket and headed outside, determined to find the damned moose or whoever was pranking me. It’d be just like my friends to do something like that.

Circling the house, I scanned the woods, wishing I’d thought to bring a flashlight. Nothing. Just as I came back around the front of the house, I glimpsed a flash of white in the darkness. At the same moment, the moose sounded.

A white moose? Ghost moose?

Shit. Now, I knew I was being pranked.

Taking off through the woods, I chased them, catching glimpses of white in and among the dark trees. But damn it if I could catch them.

Stumbling out into a clearing, I stopped suddenly.  Right in front of me stood a moose. A heck-of-a-giant moose. A freaking white moose. Glowing eyes.


The next second the moose vanished.  I mean vanished into thin air.  None of that turning and running away. Just gone. Poof!

I looked around, not recognizing the clearing. I must have run further than I’d thought.

Much further.

I couldn’t even remember which way I’d come.

Dad had taught me how to navigate by the stars and so I looked up.

Holy cow of a mother!

Not a single star looked familiar.

Where the hell was I? Not in Kansas anymore.

So, that’s it, I guess. I just walked. Hours. Days. Nights. Forever.

“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Thatcher cried. “Why would he run out into the road with a car coming?”

Her husband just shook his head, staring down at the grave-site where his son lay. Hours. Days. Nights. Forever.

Friday Fictioneers 10-20-2017

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Jay looked at the house behind the huge oak.

“My grandparents’,” Chris said. “Gramps and I built the wall.” Smiling.

‘”You did the top?”

“How’d you guess?”

Jay snorted.

“It’s gonna be hell selling this place.”

“Can’t your brothers….”

Chris gave him that look.

“Ah…okay. Gotcha.”

Chris hopped the wall. He’d spent many happy times here. Cook-outs. Water fights. Catching lightning bugs. Sparklers. Days before the fame, the wild life, the depression ruling his life. Happy, happy days.

Jay touched his arm.

“Come on,” Chris grinned. “Just gotta get something and then we’re gone.”

Time enough tomorrow for the sorrow.