January 31, 2019 by athling2001

Friday Fictioneers 1-31-2019

PHOTO PROMPT © Renee Heath

An InLinkz Link-up

The colored-blanket sky stretched out around him, weighting him down and back to earth. He liked the soft plushness of it; the tingling hint of chill creeping around the edges of the horizon. Out here he was so totally alone he was alien. Nothing else existed.

The hills reminded him of the Blue Ridge he’d left so long ago, back when he could barely remember. His cell lay on another chair, ever silent. No cell signal. No calls.

His ‘fuck-you’ to the world.

Tomorrow it would fuck him back.

September 23, 2018 by athling2001

Sunday Photo Fiction 9-23-2018

Sunday Photo Fiction

SPF 09-16-18 Anurag 1

Photo Credit: Anurag Bakhshi

Icarus

It was a familiar fantasy, one he’d had for years. Driving. Driving. Guardrails flashing past. Trees. Signs. Winds through cracked windows. Feel in his belly like a roller-coaster up the first hill. Clackety. Clackety. Clackety. Body filling with air, with fear, with joy.

Sweet fear as he raced forward. Faster. Faster. Inch by inch by mile. Feeling in his belly growing and growing….. faster. Faster. Expanding like a balloon until he would explode.

Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Fear. Steering wheel clutched in sweaty hands. Cold hands. Fear hands. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Faster. Faster. Faster. Then bump and trees and….. freedom!

July 28, 2018 by athling2001

Sunday Photo Fiction 7-28-2018

Sunday Photo Fiction

SPF July 22 2018 (2 of 1)

Photo Credit:C.E. Ayr

The ride wouldn’t be hard, not physically, but mentally? Frankly, I had no desire to bike across any state with Marcus. Who would? Not many people like to be controlled and Marcus was a whiz at control.

When he’d first shown up, I’d felt sorry for him and so I’d invited him to hang. I’m such a chump. All my friends say so.

We left at dusk, riding several hours into the night before he would allow a stop. The sky was a spectacle. The night cold. I lay all night fantasizing about sneaking away.

Did I?

Five days which would have melted the Devil was enough. After midnight, I rose, quiet, and snuck away, wheeling my bike beside me. Hitched a ride home after ditching the bike.

Never biked since.

Always told people he moved away, decide to bike the world.

Who knew?

July 3, 2018 by athling2001

Friday Fictioneers 7-2-2018

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

He sat frowning, frustrated, staring at the small workstation stuck in the corner of the room. It wasn’t like he couldn’t write here, but the lack of space, and freedom, irked his sense of creativity.

Picking up a guitar, he stepped onto the balcony and settled into a chair, strumming softly. Singing softer, words for his ears only.

The sky was bright blue, fluffed with clouds. A breeze nuzzled his hair and, for the first time in days, he was content.

Music rolled off his fingers, words from his tongue. Angels bending down around him, whispering in his ear.

June 17, 2018 by athling2001

Sunday Photo Fiction 6-17-2018

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.

June 14, 2018 by athling2001

Friday Fictioneers 6-14-2018

PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

Danny watched the quail pacing back and forth outside the screen, forehead scrunched in concentration.

“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.

“Quail.”

“Why is it on the window ledge?”

“Quail.”

“It doesn’t look injured.”

“Quail.”

“It’s not nesting season.”

“Quail.”

Mom looked at Danny and smiled. “You’re right, Danny. The quail has come to visit. We should offer it something.”

Danny took a slice of bread and shuffled out the door, flopping to the ground. With a hop, the quail bobbed over and pecked at the bread.

Mom smile. Thank heavens for small miracles.

June 12, 2018 by athling2001

Sunday Photo Fiction 6-12-2018

Sunday Photo Fiction

DSCF1060

Photo Credit: Susan Spaulding

“Metal flamingos?”

“Would you rather have real birds, feet buried in the sand?”

Susan sighed, watching the man buying lunch at the trailer beyond.

“Hungry?”

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“If I was trying to distract you, I’ll be heading you towards the bedroom.”

“If I wanted real flamingos, would you get them?”

“For you, darling, anything.”

She turned in her chair and looked at him. So handsome with his chiseled features and beach blonde hair. And his hands. She’d never known such magical hands.

“Anything in the world?”

Leaning over, he kissed her gently. “Anything.”

“Okay, then I want flamingos. A pair to keep in my garden.”

For a moment, he considered, pretty sure hijacking real flamingos was against the law. Besides, he’d never heard of captive flamingo except in zoos and he wasn’t much of a zoo fan.

He pulled her into his lap, lips caressing the soft skin of her neck. “How about a little before lunch fun?” His hands moved up her sides.

She wiggled. “You are trying to distract me!”

“Guilty as charged.”

She snuggled for a moment then rose, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside.

…..

.0.

June 8, 2018 by athling2001

Sunday Photo Fiction 6-8-2018

Sunday Photo Fiction

SPF June 3 2018 (1 of 1) Photo Credit: C.E. Ayr

The two men stood in front of what used to be a home, neither quite sure what to say.

“It was a nice house,” one said finally.

“Yep.”

“Real nice inside.”

“Yep.”

“Bill put in a nice new bar.”

“Yep.”

“Real shame.”

“Yep.”

“Wonder if he’d of rebuilt?”

“Nope.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?” He scratched under his ball-cap.

The other man just shrugged.

“He loved that house.”

“Yep.”

“I’d hate to see it burn again.”

“Yep.”

“You think it will?”

“Yep.”

“Well, he ain’t the best kind to have in the neighborhood.”

“Nope.”

“I guess we’d be better off if he moved.”

“Yep.”

“Don’t need nobody poking their nose into things.”

“Nope.”

“Think he’ll talk about things?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Kinda hard.” Uttering his first two words of the morning.

“Yeah.”

“Dead men don’t tell no tales.”

They stood looking at the ruins of the house.

“Yeah,” they both agreed. “Dead men don’t.”

…..

.0.

June 6, 2018 by athling2001

Question of the Day 6-6-2018

Please feel free to answer these questions on your blog or in the responses. If you leave me a link to your post, I will re-post it on my blog. You can also feel free to forward these questions to anybody who might be interested. Thank you to those who have already shared their thoughts.

Do you celebrate the things you have?

I like to think I do. There are times when I want something so bad I feel like crying, but I now realize that nothing, material or immaterial, is important enough for that. If there is something I want, it will come if I am meant to have it. If I’m not, then it won’t.

Celebration and gratitude thrive hand-in-hand. I can sit in my living room and be grateful for all that I have – celebrate all that I have – or I can think about the new chair I’d rather have, or the new rug or a new floor. The trick is to know that, yes, I may ‘dream’ about these things happening in my future, but I am not lacking for them now. If they are meant to come, they will. Simple fact. If I am not meant to get that new chair, then I’ll happily live with the one I own now. It may be old and look ratty, but it’s a place to sit, is comfortable and it’s here.