Response – JSW 5-10-2021

The JSW Challenge is open to anybody who wishes to participate. Using the writing prompt, write a flash fiction no longer than 500 words and post 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.

Don’t have many of those any more. Memories, I mean. Got lost somewhere in my mind and they were gone.

Course, my mind is gone, too, so it wasn’t any surprise. But I miss them. Wish I knew what I was like as a six-year old, a twenty-year old, fifty. I’m 101 now, lots of memories gone. Sometimes memories, or the lack of them, are the worst form of torture.

You young folks don’t believe me, I know, but wait until you’re my age. Wish I could remember my wife. Assuming I had one. Maybe I was alone the whole time. If that was the case, I’m glad I don’t remember.

The attendant come up to say it’s time for dinner. I don’t want it. Why eat when you don’t remember it after it’s done?

But I gotta eat otherwise they fuss and fret and threaten. They say I’ve done that before, not eating. Called it a hunger strike, but, course, I don’t remember.

Bet I did some good things in life. Least I hope so. I’d like to be remembered as a good man. Remembered… huh.

Hilarious. Maybe no body else remembers anything either.

“Come on, Mr Connelly, dinner is waiting.” he starts pushing my chair.

Guess my name is Connelly. I wish they call me by my first name. I’d like to know that before I die.

“What were you doing over there, Mr. Connelly?”

“Over where?”

“There, by the window.”


“You looked like you were talking to yourself.”

“Phaw…. I ain’t gone that far.”

Friday Fictioneers 12-18-2017

PHOTO PROMPT by Sandra Cook

“And he said, ‘Let there be light,’ and it was so.”

“Working again, huh?”

“I thought I’d try this new concept. Stars-that-need-no-sky.”

“How about egos of epic proportions?”

“Please, this is nothing. Now, the sun, that was heroic. The moon exceptional and stars…what can I say about the stars?”

“And then you had to go ruin it with humans.”

“It wasn’t my best effort. I’ll fix them. Sometime.”


“Well, by… I’ll think of something.”

“Why don’t you make so many of those star-doodles, they’ll never see above them. If they can’t look beyond, they’ll have to learn to fix themselves.”

“That might just work….”






Friday Fictioneers 12-6-2017

PHOTO PROMPT  © Dale Rogerson

A Father’s Love

It’d been years since he’d been inside a school and the ice outside mirrored the cold inside his heart. He’d ruled school, yet lived against a backdrop of emptiness and fear and alienation. He hadn’t known it then, but it was true.

“This is a very serious issue.”

“I understand, however, I seriously doubt Sammy intentionally pointed his pencil at the student’s eye. Five year olds aren’t normally weapon-wielding maniacs.”

“We have to take ever incident seriously.”

“I understand. As do I.”

Taking his son by the hand, they walked out of the principal’s office.

Friday Fictioneers 11-25-2017

PHOTO PROMPT ©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Michael stood in the doorway, staring in at the wreck beyond. What the….?


A petite face peered around the door. “Yes?”

His eyes took in the mess again, then turned to her.  “Didn’t I ask you to clean your room?”


“And it’s not cleaned…. why?”

“I forgot.”

He closed his eyes, just for a second. “Have you remembered now?”

She pursed her lips,  shrugged.  “Maybe.” And disappeared back behind the door.

He walked away.  Daughters…. god’s way of saying you’ve lost all control of your life.

God bless, them.

Friday Fictioneers 11-19-2017

 PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

She ran towards the building, screaming.

A fireman caught her around the waist. “You can’t go closer, lady, it’s too dangerous.

“But, my baby!”

“Your baby is in there?”



She pointed to a window just above the raging fire.  That floor, too, would soon be engulfed in flames.

He ran towards the building, Half hour later, he walked back, a bundle in his arms.

“Oh thank you!”

He deposited the wiggling bundle into her arms. A little brown head poked from the bundle, licked her nose.

He just smiled and walked away, vanishing into the smoke

Friday Fictioneers 11-11-2017

PHOTO PROMPT ©Marie Gail Stratford



“Have fun,” he said, handing over his credit card.

“I want to buy you something!”

“With my credit card?”

“For being a smart-ass, yes.”

She pulled him up and down and around, picking out this and that, things he didn’t need, but the joy on her face was worth the spent money.

“I’ll need a fashion show,” she declared at the exit, his arms filled with bags. “Briefs first.”

“Briefs first, we won’t get to the rest for a while.”

She smiled mischievously.  “I know.”

Where were all the damn taxis?

Friday Fictioneers 11-4-2017

PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Ann Hall


“They’re all ugly.”



“The auctioneer might hear you.”

“So what? Not like it’s a news flash.”

She slapped his arm. “I want that one.”

“The big-ass ugly yellow one?”

She hit him again. “And the red one.”


“And the two blue ones… and oh…. that cute little multi-blue one right there.”


The lot was taken to the front.

“Buy them all.”


She glared.

He raised his hand. “Ten….ah…” Glanced over.  “Twe…..ah….. thirty!”

Taking his free hand, she smiled.

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.


Friday Fictioneers 10-20-2017

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Jay looked at the house behind the huge oak.

“My grandparents’,” Chris said. “Gramps and I built the wall.” Smiling.

‘”You did the top?”

“How’d you guess?”

Jay snorted.

“It’s gonna be hell selling this place.”

“Can’t your brothers….”

Chris gave him that look.

“Ah…okay. Gotcha.”

Chris hopped the wall. He’d spent many happy times here. Cook-outs. Water fights. Catching lightning bugs. Sparklers. Days before the fame, the wild life, the depression ruling his life. Happy, happy days.

Jay touched his arm.

“Come on,” Chris grinned. “Just gotta get something and then we’re gone.”

Time enough tomorrow for the sorrow.



The challenge for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner will open early Wednesday morning, May 24th. 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, June 2nd, 2017.

Flash Fiction for the Practical Practitioner


“It isn’t right,” he cried, frustration welling up in his words.

Tamereon grasped his arm, holding him back. “I know that and you know that, but saying that isn’t going to help anybody now.”

He looked at her and then away.  Deep breath. “It’s not right.”

“Agreed, but there is nothing you can do. Now.”

“They’re saying he was stupid, he shouldn’t have gone into the house, that he made a mistake.”

“He didn’t,” she said, voice softening.

“He went in because that was his job. To help people.”

“I know.” She didn’t dare show him how much it hurt.

“They shouldn’t have called it a mistake,” he said again, turning to walk away from the memorial. “They should have called him a hero.”