Month: April 2023

Quote for the Day 4-29-2023

“I watched the early morning light pass over and through the windows of colored glass, leaving streaks of red and green and yellow on the stone floor. When I was little, I used to try and capture the colored light. I thought I could hold it in my hand and carry it home. Now I know it is like happiness– it is there or it is not, you cannot hold it or keep it.”
― Karen Cushman, Catherine, Called Birdy

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Response – JSW Prompt 4-20-2023

The JSW Challenge is open to anybody who wishes to participate. Using the writing prompt, write a flash fiction no longer than 300 words and post it 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 old, something new, something borrowed and something blue?”

“No, just something new. This isn’t a wedding.”

“Good thing because you don’t have a venue or anything else.”

She rolled her eyes. “Can you get weddings off your mind. What can I do new?”

“You could go on a trip someplace you’ve never been.”

“Gas is too expensive.”

“You could read a new book.”

“Not new enough.”

“You could cook a new meal.”

“Too much work.”

“Sounds like you want something new just handed to you.”

“That would be nice.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“It should.”

“But it doesn’t.”

“Then I don’t want anything new.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Good thing this isn’t your wedding then. You’d be breaking all sorts of traditions.”

“Good for me,” she replied sharply, “That would be my new thing!”

“

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Friday Fictioneers 4-26-2023

PHOTO PROMPT © Brenda Cox

 

“It’s a nice picture, but I wouldn’t want to be there.”
“What? You wouldn’t want a quiet evening on the water?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Who knows what is in the lake.”
“Fish.”
“Who knows what else!”
“Like the Loch Ness Monster?”
“Or Champ or whatever one of those haunts this lake.”
“Don’t tell me you believe in those myths?”
“Call them myths if you want. I’m not taking the chance.”
“Ah, Poopaw.”
“Poopaw all you want. I’m staying on dry land.” She walked away from the wall of photographs, heading back out into the sights and sounds of the fair.
A moment later, he shrugged and followed.

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Retro Tuesday 4-25-2023

 BY ATHLING2001

Sunday Photo Fiction 6-17-2018

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Sunday Photo Fiction

Photo Credit: Susan Spaulding

He sat quiet, watching the coming and going in the park, Alfred standing to the side, staring off towards the pond.

“After we eat, don’t worry,” he said, taking a bite of his biscuit. Sipping coffee. Tossing half of another to his friend. Alfred ignored the sharing.

He shrugged. It was early. Alfred wasn’t a morning bird.

Neither of them were young. Maybe that was why they were such good friends. Both of them looking at the world from the wrong end of the telescope.

He hope Alfred went first. Who’d take care of him if he passed first? Alfred was a quiet bird, a reflective bird, set in his ways.

Taking his last bite of biscuit, he crumbled the bag and tossed it into the trash bin. Two points. He still had it.

Glancing down, he saw Alfred eating his biscuit, settled back to wait. Friends waited for each other. Friends accepted each other. Friends were friends.

Besides, he enjoyed the quiet. The pond would wait.

Quote for the Day 4-25-2023

“Maybe each human being lives in a unique world, a private world different from those inhabited and experienced by all other humans. . . If reality differs from person to person, can we speak of reality singular, or shouldn’t we really be talking about plural realities? And if there are plural realities, are some more true (more real) than others? What about the world of a schizophrenic? Maybe it’s as real as our world. Maybe we cannot say that we are in touch with reality and he is not, but should instead say, His reality is so different from ours that he can’t explain his to us, and we can’t explain ours to him. The problem, then, is that if subjective worlds are experienced too differently, there occurs a breakdown in communication … and there is the real illness.”
― Philip K. Dick