Friday Fictioneers 8-4-2021

PHOTO PROMPT© Jennifer Pendergast

“Poor Harold.”

“Who’s Harold?” the children asked.

“The giant who lived across the lake.”

“Was he a real giant?”

“All one hundred and ten feet of him.”

“What happened to him?”

“He was crossing the lake one winter day, early in the morning, when he fell into a hole.”

“How big of a hole?”

“One hundred and ten feet deep hole!”

“What happened?”

“Before he could climb out, the lake froze and all that was left on the surface were his eyes.”

“Ohhhhhh!”

“Could he still blink?”

The speaker looked at the children. Kid’s asked the darndest things.

Response – JSW Prompt 8-2-2021

The JSW Challenge is open to anybody who wishes to participate. Using the writing prompt, write a flash fiction no longer than 500 words and post to your page. The Challenge starts on Monday and runs through Sunday each week. Please remember to link your story back to this post so everyone can read your entry.    

Something bad things happen. Sometimes bad things are meant to happen. It’s nothing against the person you understand, just things happen to some people and not to others. I’m ‘Not Others,’ myself, but I’ve known a great deal of ‘Others’ in my life. Watched them drown in their own bad things. Or not. Just depends on the person. And I’ve known some ‘Others’ to fight so hard they become ‘Not Others.’

But why am I saying all this? Mostly to make talk, you know. Gets lonely here all by myself so I find myself talking to myself out loud more and more. Casual quips. Comments upon life. Discourses on silly subjects such as this one. Thought I guess I shouldn’t call it silly. Those ‘Others’ sure don’t think it is silly.

Have you ever known a person like that? Someone to whom everything bad which can happen, seems to happen? Maybe they are ‘good people,’ but that doesn’t seem to matter to the world at large. Breaks your heart sometimes, seeing them struggle. But you asked me if I ‘saw something bad happen and I could stop it, why wouldn’t I?’ Because I believe what is meant to be is meant to be, good, bad or indifferent. Them folks might have a hard yard to hoe, but they are stronger for it. Much stronger than us ‘Not Others.’

And sometimes folks just need to learn their own lessons.

Seems easy for me to say these things, being as I’m ‘not others,’ and it is. Doesn’t mean its not truth. I’ve come too far to be telling lies. No time for that any more.

So what would I say to the ‘Others?’ Suck it up and take it like a man. Everything comes to an end eventually, even the shit buckets life throws our way. Do you want to know how I know? Really know?

I used to be ‘Other,’ but now I’m not. Guess life got tired of throwing things my way with me dodging and ducking and powering through. So, you see, the shit isn’t inevitable. Which is how I came to be here, all alone. Used to be people here, but they are gone now.

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“Mr. Green, it is time to take your medicine.”

JSW Prompt  8-2-2021

The JSW Challenge is open to anybody who wishes to participate. Using the writing prompt, write a flash fiction no longer than 500 words and post to your page. The Challenge starts on Monday and runs through Sunday each week. Please remember to link your story back to this post so everyone can read your entry.    

Response – JSW Prompt 7-26-2021

The JSW Challenge is open to anybody who wishes to participate. Using the writing prompt, write a flash fiction no longer than 500 words and post to your page. The Challenge starts on Monday and runs through Sunday each week. Please remember to link your story back to this post so everyone can read your entry.    

copyright csknotts 2021

He turned into the driveway. Home at last! Relief swept over him as he glanced back at the remnants of his little family. What the hell would possess her to die, for one thing, and, secondly, leave the kids under his guardianship? He was barely more than a kid himself and, frankly, the responsibility of a family scared the crap out of him.

Later, as the two toddlers played in the living room, standing in the door of the kitchen watching, he asked his mother the same question.

“I’m sure she didn’t plan to die,” she said flatly, “But she made plans for any eventuality, knowing she could trust you to take care of them.”

He shot out a laugh. “Then she didn’t know me very well at all.”

“I think she knew you quite well, Chris, whether you want to admit it or not.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I just don’t have the time, Mom,” he said, eyes still on the children. “Things are going so well. I can’t stop now.”

“No one is asking you to stop,” his mother said, “only to divide some of your time.”

“Divide my time? It’s so divided now that I don’t know if I am coming or going.”

“Surely some of the others can handle some of your responsibilities?”

“No,” he replied just as flatly. They each had their own responsibilities in the band, but if he wanted things done right, he had to do them himself. So he did and nobody else seemed to mind.

“Don’t put them in foster care.”

“Mom, I wasn’t planning…”

“But you thought about it?”

“Yes.”

“So don’t. You can’t come back from that. For the rest of their lives, even if they never meet you, they will wonder why you deserted them.”

“I’m not planning to desert them, I just need… someone to take care of them while I work.”

“Hire a nanny,” his mother advised, “unless you are planning to move back here so I can help.”

“I can’t do that. I have to be in California right now.”

“Then hire a nanny.”

Later that night, he stood in the doorway to his old room, watching the two of them curled up in his big bed, asleep. No, he hadn’t seriously thought about putting them in foster care, but he had thought about it and that made him angry. Not at them, or her, but at himself. He could handle this. Just like everything else, he would handle it.

Moving back to the living room, he sat down at his keyboards, slipped on his headphones and started to work.