Archive for the ‘Heart Warming’ Category

FFF PROMPT frost-on-a-stump-sandra-crook

 

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction postings at:

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/03/11/13-march-2015/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. I tried for about 3 minutes to restrain myself to 100 words this week. Some stories resist control. Anyway, hope you enjoy. And do come in from the cold.

Here’s my contribution:

Eight Years Old

I first noticed my shine when I was just a wee little girl. I had this stuffed bunny, Isabella, Izzy for short, and I’d drag her ‘round with me wherever I’d go. Just the two of us, an inseparable pair. Bobby, my older brother, he’s long gone now, but Bobby didn’t much care for my liking of Izzy. So, on a hot August afternoon, when Ma was at the grocery and Pa was off working or fornicating with Ms. Mabel, or maybe just getting drunk, I don’t much recall that part, but I do remember Bobby had made off with Izzy and ran away faster than I could out into the deep part of the yard. I watched as, in one motion, Bobby lopped off Izzy’s head with ma’s sewing shears and tossed her, body and head, off into the woods that lined the property. I can still see through the eyes of a five-year-old as Izzy’s cotton guts stretched and became tangled on some branches. I shrieked. Bobby, he laughed and laughed. That’s when I felt the cold chill come over me. Well, it was more like it emanated ‘from’ me. Things started to frost over and wilt as it spread like spilt milk. I cried and shuddered and choked on tears and snot and the cold spread faster and faster. Poor Bobby. Poor, poor Bobby.

jKb

FFF Prompt campfire

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/09/03/5-september-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, you’ll never believe how hard 100-words can hit.

Here’s my contribution:

The Ballad of Jacob and Emma

The trek in was perfectly wonderful enhanced by the crispness of the day, the damp soil carpeted by moldering pine needles, and the beckoningly soft footfalls. He pitched their tent beside a burbling creek, set up the camp including a ring of rock and a romantic fire. Jacob could think of no better setting to make his proposal and Emma was his princess. He uncorked wine. He tuned his acoustic and strummed a serenade designed to enchant. Then, upon bent knee he pitched. Emma gave response. Without hesitation Jacob stood, instrument firmly in hand, and cut his most perfect swing.

jKb

madisonwoodsdilapidatedroom

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. And, a double thanks for this prompt which gave me such joy as I read through years of twisted postings. But back to it…you can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/06/18/18-june-2014-summer-rerun/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, enjoy a little push.

Here’s my contribution from back when:

A Gift

Boards long since pried from window casings, no longer barred entrance. Through the portal, shafts of moonlight pierced darkness, an opaline pool glimmered amidst abandoned filth. Therein, upon that stage, a pristine chair, wooden, hand-tooled, polished to high luster, iridescent in majesty.

Another gift from mother. A baleful reminder of lessons administered.

Beside awaited a sleeping candle and sooted spoon. Glazed eyes surveilled, the impotent King approached, claimed again his stony throne. Flame melted rock, barrel loaded, leather-belt secured with teeth.

Plunger depressed.

A blissful sigh.

An utterance as veiled death flooded his veins.

“Happy Mother’s Day.”

jKb

melting-wax-renee-heath

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/04/30/2-may-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, listen for the whispers.

Here’s my contribution:

Wick Whispers

Her honed blade easily divided meat and sinew from the gelatinous yellow fat, the result of sickening gluttony. She hummed as she toiled, tossing chunks into the heavy cast pot set upon a rendering flame. The mass would consume several hours before uniformly liquefying which afforded Marta opportunity to arrange her wicks and embellish the simple glass jars with her signature label, Spirit Essence Votive. These were her best sellers for how the melted wax seemed to stretch and reach and some clients would talk of wick whispers.

Marta understood.

Each votive contained a secret ingredient which yearned for escape.

jKb

 

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/03/25/28-march-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, then come again.

Here’s my contribution:

The Lamb

The breeze was laced with damp earth and moldering leaves, the perfumes of early Spring flowers promised new beginnings, laughter chimed as the children played in the warmth of the sun, and Michael looked beyond the soft grass to the edge of the park and saw her standing beside an awakening Maple. She wore a thin dress, her shoulders bare and fresh. She smiled and raised a beckoning hand, then turned and entered into the woodland, giving provocative glances back, lifting her hem, revealing her want, her need. Michael left all behind. He followed.

Deeper she drew.

Deeper he came.

jKb

 

FFF Prompt tree-climbing-poppy

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction Friday postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/01/01/3-january-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, we’re having a swingingly good time.

Here’s my contribution:

In Good Company

The grand oak still commands the most prominent position in Bristleburg, not five paces from the courthouse stairs. Murderers, vagabonds, witches and even Union conspirators experienced the unforgiving strength within the limbs, and also beheld the knowledge, some for nearly twenty minutes, that in this town wrongdoers would not have the mercy of a proper Hangman’s Noose. The townsfolk were to blame, ever demanding of more playful public amusement.

These days are more civilized with Main Street parades celebrating seasons and history. During these  events children are hoisted among the great limbs, in good company of the death row ghosts.

jKb

FFF Prompt EMPTY DINER copyright-ted-strutz

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction Friday postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2013/11/27/29-november-2013/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, take what you need for there is plenty.

Not my typical story, but at times it’s important to reflect, and I am thankful.

Here’s my contribution:

Waiting For A Sign

Clouds seemed to press in from all sides as Sara trod down Bushwood Street, mulling over her available options. The rent would be due in just a few days. She was hungry and cold, hell, she was a mess both physically and emotionally. And there was no help, nobody to turn to. The old Sunday School mantra of “The Lord helps those who help themselves” rang in her mind and she would have laughed if she wasn’t already crying. She was trying as best she could.

She looked up. There, hung in the window was a Help Wanted sign.

jKb

Three Doors

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction Friday postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2013/09/25/27-september-2013/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, the reading is about to begin.

Here’s my contribution:

The Inheritance

The suit drove to the clearing off Marshall, the place where grandfather’s house had stood for two centuries until it was consumed in a suspicious conflagration.

“Why are we here?” Micah’s annoyance simmered as they exited the Suburban.

“For the reading of the inheritance statement, of course.” The suit swayed heel to toe, his hands in his pockets, his lips peeled back exposing two perfect rows of bony nubs.

“There’s nothing here but an empty lot and bad memories.”

“Hold out your hand, Micah.” The suit pressed a skeleton key into Micah’s palm. Suddenly, three doors arose from the earth.

jKb

 

FFF Prompt the_second_hand_shop-1

I apologize for being weak on interactions the past few weeks. I’ve recently been under the knife but am on the mend and will soon resume the dance of the jig.

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction Friday postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2013/09/18/20-september-2013/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, taste how sweet.

Here’s my contribution:

Second Hand Love

The promenade here was unchanged for nearly sixty years. Harold and Joyce first met on this stretch as teens, had learned the ache of a summer crush, had eventually found friendship which blossomed into love.

It was not the love enjoyed by youth, but something deeper and somehow ever more sustaining.

As they strolled a thought seeped inside Joyce, wishful thinking really. Now that they were each widowed and had reconnected their second hand love, that maybe the magic here could gift them something special. She entered the store of castoffs looking for new life and beckoned Harold to follow.

jKb

ICE CREAM MAN

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction Friday postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2013/06/26/29-june-2013/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, the carnival awaits.

Here’s my contribution:

Good Humor

Chimes rang in the distance as the children lined the streets. The pitch and tempo of the rag-time tune continued to grow as thoughts of soft serve swirls, push-ups, and red, white and blue rockets transfixed those gathered.

An approaching white box-truck dressed with multicolored streaks and topped with a rotating, guffawing happy-man head revved up Middle Street.

The quintessence was jarred by a sudden backfire.

The melody modulated into something that tasted like twisted steel and broken glass as the happy-man head melted to reveal a dripping, gapping skull.

The deranged clown driver bellowed his sinister, yet, good humor.

jKb