Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner 9-27-2017

The challenge for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner opens early Thursday morning, September 21st. Allow the prompt to take you anywhere you want to go! (Limit your stories to 200 words.) This challenge is open until 11:00 pm Friday night, September 29th, 2017.

Flash Fiction for the Practical Practitioner


 

He leaned back in the taxi, ignoring the glitterati of the city around him.  It had been a long day, dawn to dusk, full of horns and exhaust and the low, steady, rumble in the heart of the city.

Beethoven sounded loud in the cab – Dun Dun Dun Da – and he pulled out his cell.

“Yes?”

“The vote came in about fifteen minutes ago, Mr. Dunbar.”

“And?”

“Sandy Thompson won.”

“I see.”

There was a long pause. “What did you wish me to do, sir?”

“Nothing at all.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Mrs. Jones, I am.”

He clicked off the phone.  “Nothing at all,” he repeated to himself. He had Ms. Thompson right where he wanted her.

The sounds of the city were music to his ears.

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers 9-27-2017

This week’s photo prompt is provided by shivamt25.
Guide for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
1. A prompt photo will be provided each Monday pm to be used as a base to your story. Please include photo prompt with your story.
2. Linking for this challenge begins on Monday pm and runs to the following Monday pm.
3. Please credit photo to photographer.
4. The story word limit is 100 – 150 words (+ – 25 words). Please try to stay within this limit.
5. Please indicate the number of words in your story at the end of your story. (It doesn’t count into the amount of words).


“What?” he asked as if in dismay.

Giggles. “You…..” A fit of giggles.

He hid a smile, loving the light in her eyes, the strands of ash-brown hair drifting across her forehead. Laugh lines crinkling around her eyes.

He faked a frown as if her giggles insulted him. This just made her giggle harder.

Raised his hands in a ‘what’ gesture.

“Oh, Chris!” She laughed, pointing at his coffee cup upon which he’d rested his sunglasses. Lennon glasses, he called them.

“What? You don’t like meeting Mr. Lennon?”

Reaching out, she grabbed his hand from across the table. “You are horrible!”

He chuckled, twining his fingers with hers.

“So I’ve been told.”

They drank their coffee in easy conversation, as if they’d known each other all their lives, not just met at the counter less than an hour ago. They spent the day pretending to be in love. Pretending they had a life-time before him. Making memories they would both forget tomorrow.

Response – JSW Prompt for 9-18-2017 on 9-25-2017

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).

 

Sandra snapped the book closed.  “What an ass!”

“Hummm?” David barely looked up from his paper.

“The nerve of that guy. ‘I don’t exactly hate you but if you were on fire and I had water, I’d drink it.'”

“I thought you didn’t like water?”

She shot him the stink-eye, but he never looked up.

“Actually, I love water,” she said sweetly. “Would you get me a glass?”

She hated the taste of water.

“Hum… in a minute.” He flipped several pages. “Did you know the damn Red Socks lost again?”

She rolled her eyes. “Really? How boring.”

“I know, you’d think they be able to get one damn player who knows how to play.”

“Hum… you think if one of them was on fire, the others would drink the water?”

He shook the papers in irritation. “What is it about you and water?” he growled.

“I thought you were getting me a glass?”

“Oh, for crying out loud, get your own damn water!”

Sinking back in her chair, one leg thrown over the arm, she sat in silence for a few moments, dangling foot swinging.

“I just might,” she replied coolly.

“Get me a glass while you’re in there.”

Stomping to her feet, she swished to the kitchen, angrily clanking glasses as she poured water into both.

Walking back into the living room, she stood over her husband’s chair for a moment, waiting fruitlessly to be acknowledged. The paper rustled as he turned another page; scratched his ear and sniffed.

Turning both glasses up, she dumped the water over David’s head.

“What the hell,” he sputtered, shooting out of his chair.

Cocking a hip, she smiled.  “By the way, if you had been on fire, I would have drunk the water.”

Turning on her heels, she stalked out, leaving David staring after her.

What the hell was wrong with that woman?

 

 

JSW Prompt 9-25-2017

Feel free to join in and respond to the prompt. Please try to keep your response under 300 words. Well, this time 30 words. If you reply, I will re-blog your post to my site (sometimes I am slow, but I get there).

Sunday Photo Fiction 9-24-2017

Walking in fall was the best, he decided, scuffing his boots through the leaves. He liked the nip in the air, the cold night, the shortening days.

“All right, time to walk on your own,” he said, lifting Andrea off his shoulders and to the ground.

Off she went, tottering and laughing at the crunching leaves.

He hadn’t wanted to take her when her mother died, hadn’t wanted the responsibility. She wasn’t his child, but he was as close to a father as she had ever known.

She tumbled, silent for a moment as if not sure whether to laugh or cry.

His heart melted. A career was a career. This was….

This was….. well, he didn’t know what this was.

Scooping her up, he lifted her above his head, spinning wildly to her shrieks and laughter.

She’d changed something inside of him, something vital, something he’d never wanted but now would never let go.

Dropping her down, he hugged her tight.  “Don’t you worry, baby girl. Daddy’s here forever.”