Response – JSW Prompt 6-25-2018

Feel free to join in and respond to the prompt. Please try to keep your response under 300 word (recommended, not law). You can write a story, poem, essay, anything which strikes your fancy. I will re-blog posts to my site.

An apple a day keeps anyone away if you throw it hard enough.


Truth. Particularly when you core the apple and fill it with lead. Apple bombs, Jason calls’em. Biggest part of our arsenal, but then again, we was squatting on an old apple farm. You learn to use what you have until you have nothing.

Then you run like hell.

(Don’t tell no one I said that last. Don’t want my ass whipped into next Sunday.)

Guess you’ll want to know why we was squatting on the apple farm, lobbing apple bombs at them law folk. Well, they wanted us out. Wanted to arrest Jason. He’s the oldest, 17 now, though he acts more like 7 sometimes.

Can’t blame him. He shot them cows cause we was hungry. Gotta take care of family whether you like’em or not. It’s in the Bible. Least wise, I think it is. Don’t read so good myself.  Susan is the reader, reads to us most nights, just before dark.

She’s next oldest. Almost 16. Old Maid territory, but that ain’t worth mentioning either less I wanna get whipped.

I’m Teddy and I’m ten. Too big to be a baby and not big enough to do the heavy work. So, guess who gathers the apples, makes them into bombs?

Right. I’ve gotten damn good at it. Ain’t cut myself once.

Been awhile since Momma and Pa died. Got the fever both of’em and was gone just like that. Just Jason, Susan, me and the baby. Addie. She’s too young to do anything but burp and poop. Susan takes care of her mostly.

They come after supper, just when dark’s settling over the dying trees and the fallen rocks of the old wall. Weren’t different from any other night. Them lawmen sneaking up, trying to slip into the perimeter.

Perimeter. I like that word. A grown up words, one Pa might have used when he was in the army.

Course, I’m waiting for’em as always. Piles of apple bombs ready to go.

The sky’s pretty tonight. Lots of them stars. Brighter than I remember. Wondering why I’m lying here, looking at stars.

Is it raining?

I don’t feel none on my face, but I can feel the wet on my belly, hands clenched, holding in the rain.

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Response – JSW Prompt 6-18-2018

Feel free to join in and respond to the prompt. Please try to keep your response under 300 word (recommended, not law). I will re-blog your post to my site.

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picture by  csknotts

The office was empty, workstations abandoned as if the workers just up and left, taking nothing with them. Lights burning for nobody. No sound anywhere. Not the scuff of a shoe against carpet, the click of keys or the hum of a printer. No phones, no low voices, no laughter or joy.

Only quiet which went beyond silent. The quiet of emptiness, the quiet of lost hope. The quiet of abandonment.

Tomorrow would be Monday, but nobody would come. Nobody was left to come, only a long, dark, slide into oblivion. Dust and the creeping fingers of ivy, back to claim their own.

 

 

JSW Prompt 7-2-2018

Feel free to join in and respond to the prompt. Please try to keep your response under 300 word (recommended, not law). You can write a story, poem, essay, anything which strikes your fancy. I will re-blog posts to my site.

 


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JSW Prompt 6-25-2018

Feel free to join in and respond to the prompt. Please try to keep your response under 300 word (recommended, not law). You can write a story, poem, essay, anything which strikes your fancy. I will re-blog posts to my site.


 

 

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers 6-20-2018

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Enisa.

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 in the amount of words).

 


She sat at the rickety table, staring at the one thing she had left (besides the crappy furniture and the cracked mirror in the bathroom). A fake crystal vase. He’d given it to her once upon a time, with a single peach rose inside, a token of his love.

A love that hadn’t lasted long until the lies started and never stopped. Bad enough a divorce and then the medical problems and now bankruptcy. Where, and how, had she gone wrong?

Was it wrong to want to live a normal life? To experience love and happiness? To honor truth? Sometimes, she felt that it was, at least for her.

Maybe, she didn’t deserve a normal life, even if she wasn’t sure why. Something had to be wrong with her, didn’t it?

Didn’t it?

Rising, she walked to the back door and stared outside.

Sunset, a beautiful sky.

The last day of despair?

Or, simply the last day?

(157)