Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers 12-13-2017

This week’s photo prompt is provided by yarnspinner.
 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 the….”

“Language!”

“Sorry.” Leaning closer, he studied the plate. “What in the… world… is that?”

She shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Does it matter! I’m not going to eat  anything looking like that!”

“Oh, come on, don’t be a whiner. We paid a lot of money to attend this event.”

“Wasted money, if this,” pointing downwards, “is the fare!”

He turned his head back and forth, bent over to look at the plate upside down. Nothing made the contents of the plate more palatable. Or recognizable.

“Nope, no way am I eating … whatever it is.”

He gave up, turning to look around the ballroom.

She hummed and hawed, cajoled and begged, but he remained steadfast.

“Oh, for good grief,” she finally said, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the exit. “This is the thanks I get for trying to expand our horizons!”

He said nothing. Steak and potatoes. A few green beans to cleanse the palette. Apple pie.

Why would anyone want to expand from the best?

(176)

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Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers 12-5-2017

 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).
This week’s photo prompt is provided by Enisa.


The kitten snuggled down in his lap, purring loudly, as if she knew they were heading to the barn. Most of her time there was spend snuggling on a hay bale in the breezeway, watching and listening and, occasionally, trotting off to deal with an errant mouse. She didn’t kill the mice; she wasn’t that kind of cat. What she did was scare their little mouse stuffings out so they never bothered to return.

Some of the horses snickered at her, but she paid them no mind. What did they know about catness? Most of the time, they barely seemed to understand horseness. Her person understood catness and she understood Joshness. For that, she was perfectly pleased.

Come nighttime, they drove back to their place, eating hot dogs and spaghetti in front of a tiny black and white TV, before curling up on their narrow cot. Tucked behind his knees, she purred them both to sleep.

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers 11-16-2017

 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).

This week’s photo prompt is provided by any1mark66 .


“Neolithic basketball?” Nathan asked, cocking his head to look at the ancient art carved into the rock face. “Could use some improvement on the net.”

“Is basketball all you ever think about?”

“Pretty much.”

Sandy rolled her eyes, muttered something too low to hear.

He smiled. “But you love me anyway, babe.”

This she couldn’t deny. “Yes, you big lug, I love you anyway.”

(89)

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers 11-10-2017

 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).
This week’s photo prompt is provided by Enisa .


“Can you believe we’ve come to this?” Candy asked, scratching her chin.

Humphrey humpted.

“I mean, come on.  Steel recycling.  What are we, chopped liver?”

“Humpt.”

“Of all the vaulted positions we’ve held. Heralds of War. Lords of Luxury. Eater of Virgins. Foe of knights.”

“Humpt.”

“After all that, ALL THAT, steel recyclers!

“Do you know how ugly I look without my skin? Just horrible! My beautiful, knobby, pink skin! Oh, how I miss it.”

“Humpt.”

“Oh, what do you know? Grumpy old dragon.”

Humphrey closed his eyes and snorted out a snore.

(101)

 

JSW Prompt Response 10-20-2017 for JSW Prompt 10-16-2017

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).

photo by csk

 

The highway seemed to go on forever, straight white lines boundaries of my world. I glanced over at the elephant and the horse. Me. The car. Two stuffed animals. All that was left.

She’d loved that damned elephant. Had cried when I’d given it to her.

Embarrassing, but a guy learns to handle those things.

How was I going to handle things now?

She’d been so pretty.  Ful of light and fun and laughter. My angel. Light of my life.

She’d been all that was left.

Behind me, distant but growing, I heard the sounds of the sirens. If I’d had the courage, I would have put the gun into my mouth and pulled the trigger.

When the cops surrounded me, I pulled to the shoulder. I couldn’t run anymore. I didn’t care anymore.

As they cuffed me, I looked back at my car. At that damned elephant.

This is what you’ve done, it seemed to say.

A State Trooper shoved me into the car, leaned in behind me. “I’m arresting you for the murder of your daughter.”

It was an accident, I wanted to say, but didn’t.

I never said it.

Dreamed of pink elephants ever night in prison.

 

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers 10-20-2017

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).

 

“Apparently, Mr. Happy lives here,” he commented, unlocking the door.

“In a cheesy hotel?”

“Maybe that’s why he’s so happy.”

It wasn’t a nice place. Two double beds, sagging in the middle; dingy, stained, bedspreads; an old TV with foil-wrapped rabbit ears. The walls, like the door, were painted pink.

She sat on the bed and started to cy.

“It’s not that bad.” Sitting, but not touching.

“It’s horrible.”

He couldn’t disagree.

“I want to go to the Hilton.”

He’d heard this refrain for hours. “Your father wants you safe until he testifies.”

Wailing, she threw her arms around his neck. When the door clicked, it took a moment to extricate himself. By the time he had, the intruder had fired two shots.

“You could have waited until I was out-of-the-way!” She wiped at the blood on her skirt, another stain on the bedspread.

“Nope.” He looked down at the dying man.

Grabbing her purse, she headed for the door. “Come on, I’m hungry.”

(164)

 

 

 

 

 

Friday Fictioneers 10-15-2017

PHOTO POMPT © Douglas M. MacIlroy

“He’s a squawker, ain’t he,” Bill asked over the baby’s frantic cries.

“You’re holding him too tight.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re going to hurt him.”

“I ain’t gonna hurt him. What’d you care anyway. It’s just a stinky bird.”

“It’s not……  it’s….” She didn’t know, but it had wings. One day it could fly away, be free.

“Dumb bitch.” He squeezed his fist around the baby bird then tossed it aside.  Onto the concrete. Walked inside.

She fell to her knees beside the tiny body, crying for broken wings.