Oldtimer

It was that hazy time of day when it’s just beginning to darken but there’s still plenty of light to see where you’re going. And I was heading out. The interstate was just about the only way out now that wasn’t standing under water.

The last heavy rain had flooded the town for one last time for me. Most everyone had already gone anyway. Our small town had been steadily declining for years. The young folk had moved elsewhere to find jobs and start families. There were just a few of us “oldtimers” left and now there was one less.

PHOTO PROMPT © The Reclining Gentleman

Photo Credit:  The Reclining Gentleman

Join us at Flash Fictioneer Friday with Rochelle Wisoff-Fields and write a story in 100 words:  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/09/23/25-september-2015/

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Estate Sale

Copyright Dawn M. Miller

The lamps had been collected from every room in the sprawling mansion and placed on a long table on the porch. Everything was being sold. The elderly woman-of-the-manor had finally passed away leaving her heirs to disburse her belongings.

Some had been found in the attic which hadn’t seen light…lamp or otherwise for decades. I perused the offerings. Most were too out of date for my taste but one stood out…I lit up when I saw it. Dusty but with no cracks in its pale pink glass, the delicate oil lamp was now mine.

Rochelle has another photo to inspire our 100 word fiction over at Friday Fictioneers: https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/02/05/7-february-2014/

Hope

Copyright, Erin Leary

Copyright, Erin Leary

The year before had been a continuation of a drought of the last several years, this year had seen an almost monsoon-like summer. It had rained the entire month of June. The pasture was underwater; the cattle were unable to get out and graze. The crops were ruined…flooded…lifeless.

This summer had been the last of the attempts to save the farm…the family heritage that had been handed down for generations. All things have a beginning and end…was this ours?

One last morning’s hike along the fence…watching the sun valiantly rising through the dense fog and rain, I still see possibility.

Trying my hand at a new prompt (using the above photo) with the Friday Fictioneers joining Rochelle Wisoff in telling a complete story with 100 words: http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/01/15/17-january-2014/

Cinderella’s Close Call

          She had only her memories of that astonishing time, as she perched on what was once the magical carriage which had transported her that night long ago to that fateful ball.   She sipped her raspberry leaf tea and reflected on the state of events that had led her back to her roots and ultimately to her peace.

          Yes, she had met her Prince Charming and yes, they had tried to make a go of it, but she soon realized that she preferred an unfettered life.   She had left the palace in spite of loving the Prince. Her overbearing and tyrannical mother-in-law would have kept her enslaved and downtrodden as she had once been before.   No, thank you!

          She lived alone and was free of the manipulation and control of her step-sisters and selfish stepmother.   She enjoyed tending the pumpkin patch and had no one to answer to.

          Now her days were spent as she chose, leisurely and lovingly tending her pumpkins, sipping tea and having all her needs met through her own hands.   The glass slippers, hung from a low tree branch–are a reminder of what she almost lost…again.

Entry for Bluebell Books:  Short Story Slam # 17:  http://bluebellbooks.blogspot.com/2011/12/short-story-slam-week-17.html

Flash Fiction 140

Five flash fiction stories of 140 total characters using the words:  “exposure”, “punch”, “clothes”, “advantage” and “change”:

Capsized five days prior, a bottle of water keeps him living; exposure will soon win.  He hallucinates a tropical isle; people on the beach.

Punching his chest hard, she blows into his open mouth and continues compressing his chest and blowing–relentless, she knows aid is coming.

As she hangs clothes on the lines outdoors, a dark, shadow dives overhead.  The hawk is back, searching for its next meal at the birdfeeder.

Meditation brings clarity, focus and calm to my life.  It may not bring less trials to face but the way I handle them is of great advantage.

The transformation in her appearance was astonishing but even more so was the change in her personality.  She was now free to live and love.

Surfing

He loved to surf.  He felt as if the sea was his home.  Each break of day found him at the edge of the tide pools.

He lay on his board and with smooth strokes made his way out to the swells.  He sat up and looked up at the sun and felt its warm glow on his face.  All was good in his world.

His chance came–the wave built and he kept pace with it as its force grew.  He stood up and rode it with skill and grace–the deep sea held him high–its curl arced…

Flash Fiction of 100 one syllable words:  Here’s to you Rama!

Madness

She wore her heart on her sleeve.  It was there for the world to see.  It beat with warmth and kind thoughts for all.  She would not dream of harm to a soul.  And yet– you could sense dread.

She played the harp.  A pluck of the strings brought her peace and ease.  She read books–books of farce with daft plots.  They held her rapt and gripped her with their wild scenes.

Years of a life of tight and fixed views soon led her to go mad.  She snapped one day when her much loved harp lost its tune.

I came across a prompt that suggested writing a 100 word story using only one syllable words.  If you give it a try, let me know; I would love to read yours.

Ouija Board

Planchette

Image via Wikipedia

     We had been up in the attic all day going through old boxes of stuff and looking at magazines dated from the ‘50s.  It had been interesting looking at the LPs we found and myriad other knick-knacks from our family’s stored history.  We even came across an old game–a Ouija board.  I had vaguely heard about this game from our parents years earlier and was curious to give it a try.  It was getting dark though, so we decided to call it a day.

       We brought the game downstairs, dusted it off and started reading the instructions.  We sat in the living room with one light glowing overhead.   We found that it’s used as a divination to attract spirits.  Wow!  Now we were really captivated.  To be more “intimate” we decided to rest the board on our knees and sitting close to each other, placed the planchette on the board and made a couple of sweeping motions across the board to get it “warmed up”.  The planchette, we learned, is the heart shaped device used to lightly rest your fingertips upon.  The spirits called forth would move it from letter to letter or the “Yes” and “No” choices to transmit the messages.  My sister was opting to go first and ask her questions of the spirit and I would write down the chosen letters.

       We sat with quiet but excited anticipation as my sister asked a spirit to join us.  The instructions had suggested asking easy yes or no questions or those easily verified.  It also said you may start receiving thought forms or images as you progressed with the session.

     “Do you have a message for me?” she asked.  The planchette remained motionless for several moments before slowing moving toward the “Yes” on the board and then rested there.  “Can you identify something in this room?”  The indicator went slowly from letter to letter spelling out the word “incense”.  It’s true, incense was burning!  “How old will I be when I marry”, she asked.  The indicator moved to “No”.  “Well that’s odd”, she said, puzzled, “I wonder what that means?”

       Suddenly an uneasiness swept over her.  She complained that her head hurt and that she had experienced a quick vision of something that she couldn’t quite make out but it had left her feeling edgy and anxious.  “I don’t want to go on with this game; I don’t feel comfortable.”

     “Sure”, I replied, putting it away, “no problem.”  But it certainly was intriguing, “let’s try it again sometime.”

     “Okay, sure,” she answered, “but I’m heading out first thing tomorrow morning, let’s get some dinner and turn in early.”

     Morning broke sunny and clear.

     “Have a safe trip, Sis”, I said, as I hugged and kissed her goodbye.

     Not an hour had passed when I received the call–a tragic accident on the highway.  No other cars had been involved.  My sister’s car had inexplicably gone over a steep ravine.  Even the safety guard rails couldn’t stop the car.

500 Word Fiction based on a prompt to write about a game that goes awry.  I never posted it after I wrote it.

Pa-pa

Saatchi Gallery - Young & Old

She was a sweet and tender child and wise beyond her years, already knowing the importance of connection to others. Her delicate features, with excitement-blushed cheeks and bright, curious blue eyes made her sensitivity even more apparent.  Innocent, rosebud lips finished off the charm.  Long, honey-colored hair, worn parted in the middle, fell past her shoulders and hung straight and loose, complementing her slight frame.  She was prone to brushing straggles of hair out of her eyes when it was worn down this way. Along with her favorite pink suede cowboy boots, her mother had allowed her to pick out the multi-tiered, purple, gray and white skirt that she loved.  Her brown corduroy jacket topped it off because of the chill in the air.  A tiny dab of her mother’s Shalimar perfume behind her ears made her feel extra special.  The mild amber fragrance created a subtle aura around her.  They were off to visit Pa-pa today.

She was only six but loved her Pa-pa devotedly.  They had come for a visit today to the nursing home where he now resided.

His head hung slightly down as he sat in his motorized wheelchair, impeccably dressed in his black pin-stripe suit with pristine and starched, long sleeved white shirt and boldly striped tie.  Still after all of these years, his black leather shoes were polished to a high gleam–important when callers came.  His tall stature was evident even though he was sitting.  His snow white hair and beard intrigued her and his wild, wooly eyebrows made her giggle.  His aged face was speckled with numerous sunspots and the lines of years of hard work raising a family, ill health and losing his wife two years prior.  A silver band still worn on his finger signified their long union.  She loved to examine his elderly face and look into his wise eyes that still cheered up when he caught sight of her.

He offered her a peppermint from his pocket–he always smelled of peppermint and Old Spice aftershave.  She ate the candy immediately–feeling the sensation of the cooling mint in her mouth–savoring it slowly.

She made sure his hearing aids were still lodged gently in his ears and brought him a pair of scissors he had requested that he used to cut the tags off the gift he had ready for her.  It was a stuffed black and white striped zebra.   She clutched the toy, her small hand encircling its body, feeling quietly delighted at the surprise.

She thanked him, speaking up as she knew to do, so he could hear her clearly.  He hugged her gently and smiled, his voice a gravelly rasp, responded to her; “I love you.”

Monday Morning Writing Prompt:  Description;   http://liv2write2day.wordpress.com/2011/05/01/monday-morning-writing-prompt-description/#respond

Indigo Sky

Wordle Cloud Definition of Social Commerce - A...

Image via Wikipedia

INDIGO ~ AMBROSIA ~ SCENT ~ DAUNTING ~ SHIMMER ~ BLAZE ~ WHIMSY ~ WHISPER

 

The day was a hot blaze.  The ambrosia scent of jasmine was still imbued in the air when leaving the house this morning.  The aroma had been so strong the night before.  An indigo sky hung heavy and the road was shimmering ahead of me as if a mirage.

A daunting task lay before me.  An important presentation was due at work but my voice had been reduced to a mere whisper–laryngitis.  At a stoplight, my thoughts turned to whimsy as I imagined our clients straining to hear as I croaked out my words.  Surely someone could replace me.

Monday Morning Writing Prompt:  Using a wordle.  Flash Fiction.

http://liv2write2day.wordpress.com/2011/04/17/monday-morning-writing-prompt-the-infamous-wordle/#respond

Pain Held Tight

He was slight and short for twelve years of age.  His rust colored hair and freckled pale skin was the bane of his life.  His eyes were a deep brown with flecks of carnelian–beautiful really–framed with long, feathery lashes that blinked with mischievousness and always-looking-for-a-joke curiosity.

His sweet vulnerability was overshadowed by a dark secret and shame.  He wore a mask of jovial pretense and protected that place with ardent determination.

No one noticed the quick flash of anguish that passed across his face from time to time or the somber pauses, between the wittiness, that told all.

pain held tight inside

please look deep, not just the shield

hope that someone sees

I took Victoria up on her Monday Morning Writing Prompt of a Haibun.  See her page for definition.  I blended a Flash Fiction story of 100 words with a haiku.http://liv2write2day.wordpress.com/2011/04/06/snowbirds-lament-a-haibun-napowrimo-day-6/

The Pistol

Glock 26

Image via Wikipedia

I groggily awakened and at once became aware of a dim, glow under the closed door coming from the hallway.  Hushed, muffled mumblings brought me to alertness.  My husband was away on business and I was alone–or so I thought.

Panic now washed over me.  I reached for the phone to dial 911 and simultaneously opened the drawer of the table next to the bed and slid my hand inside and around the handle of the Glock 26.

Soon a commotion outside the door told me the police had arrived and I was safe.

The pistol remained unused.

Flash Fiction of 100 words.  No, I know nothing about guns–it’s just a story.

Elusive Ape Man

The sunrise was brilliant that morning. Such an odd day for them to be looking for the elusive ape man known in these parts to have only been spotted in the wee hours of morning before daybreak.

They set up their high-tech equipment that would provide them with the sounds that the creatures made that were inaudible to the human ear.  Each, with earphones tightly covering their ears and concentrating intently, was caught totally unaware when brutally grabbed from behind.  The last thing they heard was a piercing, howling snarl as they became early breakfast for the mysterious ape man.

 

My first Flash Fiction using 100 words and a prompt through Victoria’s Monday Morning Writing Prompt

.http://liv2write2day.wordpress.com/2011/03/07/monday-morning-writing-prompt-flash-fiction-3/#respond

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