Response 12-11-2017 – JSW Prompt 11-6-2017

20170711_180535.jpgPhoto by csk
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).

The tunnel opened up to curving road, a half circle here, almost-full circle there, knotted twists and turns between. Like always, he was driving too fast, the need to test the limits of his car, his reactions, his fear, drowning him. He’d done it before and he’d do it again. So far, he’d survived, a realization to which he rarely paid attention.

He sped around another curve, tires sliding towards the edge of the cliff, heart pounding with the thrill of almost destruction.

His phone kept ringing. And ringing. He didn’t answer. It would be Jay or Kerry or one of the others, not knowing where he was, but knowing what he was doing. Teasing death. Taunting. Longing. Always on edge.

He’d always known he’d die young. Geniuses did. Look at Kurt Cobain.  Jimi Hendrix. Chopin. Mozart. Schubert. Billy the Kid. Joan of Arc. Okay, so the last two weren’t musical geniuses, but that wasn’t the point. The point was they died young.

And yet, here he was. Twenty-five and still alive. Not that, in the overall scheme of things, he wanted to die, but he didn’t see any alternative to the cold edge of darkness sliding knife-edged through his veins.

Jay again on Voice Mail. “Where are you? Don’t do it. Please, Chris. Don’t.”

It was the fear and pain in Jay’s voice that reached him. He could hurt himself without fear, but to hurt his friends? He couldn’t do that.

Slamming on the brakes sent him skidding sideways, struggling for control, seeing the guard rail looming closer and closer. And, for an instant, fear.






Response 10-23-2017 JSW Prompt 12-5-2017

I apologize for my laxness with JSW Prompts in the last few weeks, but here’s hoping that I’m better and ready to go again.
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).

The door slammed behind me as I sank back into the seat, tossing my briefcase beside me. By the time I stepped into my penthouse tonight, I would be millions of dollars richer. Not bad for a single day’s work.

With a swoosh of tires, the cab drew away from the curb, heading downtown.

“I need to go to 12th and Madison,” I said, leaning forward. Which was the exact opposite direction.

He didn’t acknowledge I had spoken.

Pulling out my phone, I dialed my assistant.  “I might be late. I’ve gotten one of those drivers who can’t speak a word of English.”

“This isn’t the time to be late,” Andy reminded me.

“Don’t you think I know that?” I shot back, “but I can’t do a thing until I get the idiot to stop.” Hanging up the phone, I started back on the driver, asking, demanding, and then cursing, for him to stop immediately. Nothing seemed to penetrate his foreign haze. When I attempted to reach through the interior window and grab him, he slammed the glass shut.

Pulling my phone back out, I called Andy and then the others who would be present at the meeting. Who would already be at the meeting.

If this driver screwed the deal…….

We seemed to drive forever, deeper and deeper into a part of the city that I did not know. Nor, having looked out the windows, did I care to know it. Run-down buildings, burned out cars, trash everywhere. Dark shapes of boys in the shadows, watching the taxi cruise by like lions waiting for the gazelle at the watering hole.

Finally, the taxi pulled to the side of the road, behind a trashed car. The driver turned to look at me, motioning for me to get out.

“I am not getting out here,” I shot back, “you imbecile. I don’t know what you think you are doing, but you’ll lose your license for this.”

He stared at me with empty eyes.

I looked back at his face. Not empty eyes; empty eye sockets.

I almost fell out of the cab, stumbling to the cracked sidewalk to land on one knee.

The taxi pulled away, disappearing into the night.



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.)