Archive for the ‘Holiday’ Category

janet-webbs-sangria

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/2014/02/12/14-february-2014/

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

Here’s my contribution:

The Toast

“Do you remember the sunset at that lovely winery, something Oak? It looked back across that ridgeline. The sky was like cotton candy.” Philemon swirled his Bordeaux, explored the sunlight through the goblet, inhaled the bouquet, sipped. “The wine was crap, but those views…breathtaking.”

Philemon rocked back and forth upon his patent leather loafers and chuffed his Romeo Y Julieta.

A gentle breeze swirled and tickled the nape of his neck. Philemon glowed, ever the gentleman, his glass raised. He unzipped his fly and let go his bladder upon the one black brick in the patio.

“Happy Valentine’s you bitch.”

jKb

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FFFPrompteiffel-tower-dmm

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/2013/12/26/27-december-2013/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, give us a merry hand.

This, a take inspired by Clive Barker’s The Body Politic.

Merry Hands

His body slumping from fatigue, hands bloodied and raw, Berwick managed another pull upon the life-boat oars and distanced himself from the horror which took his ship, his crew, and several of his closest friends.

Seven miles off the rocky New England coast and cruising smoothly beneath a waxing gibbous Berwick was bound for trade in Virginia when hell broke loose.

“It was in the hands,” said one. A loss of responsiveness at first, then no cognitive control, the hands lurched and reached and clawed and squeezed and rapidly all was lost.

Berwick, eyes downcast, beheld his own coming savagery.

jKb

 

FFF prompt BOOTS adamickes-childsboots

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/2013/12/11/13-december-2013/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, show me you’re brave.

Here’s my contribution:

Tuscarora Trail

This section of trail was overgrown having seen little use since the rumored incident some years back. Two boys had ventured along while earning points towards merit badges for mapping the lesser known crossings of the Blue Ridge; this one believed to have been used by Tuscarora warriors during raids on the settlement below. All that was ever found of those scouts was a strip of hair, some skin, and boots, the story went. Undeterred, and anxious to prove himself, Tate dared to hike along the same trail as a clammy wind began to stroke the base of his neck.

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

FFF prompt goats_and_graves_3_randy_mazie

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/2013/07/10/12-july-2013/  

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

Here’s my contribution:

Cometh The Gruff

Reap arrived on a cool breeze, accompanied by a looming harvest moon pregnant with Mother Earth’s bounty. As was tradition, the town-folk opened their coffers to celebrate. The folks dressed in their finest; the children wore masks and paint. Music played and rhymes sung, all the while the feast was being prepared in the town square.

There, a pit was dug, and the well-seasoned iron spit erected.

The lottery jar passed from child to child and numbered stones were drawn, each pull rewarded with a treat.

Then his number was drawn and the air suddenly thickened.

Oh, how he hungered.

jKb

ChildrenBlackAndWhite from internet

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/2012/12/19/21-december-2012/

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

I cheated this week. I did not follow. I chose something else. Rise with me. Heal.

Here’s my contribution:

Solace

One terrible day a sorrowful boy committed the unspeakable. The heavens trembled with cries, for on that day this boy laid waste the defenseless around him. And then, something unexpected happened. From the broken bodies of children angels arose and, with tears in their cherub eyes, they came to the boy. Tiny hands reached out to him, rested upon him. Then they sang. Withstanding all the anger, all the pain and fury, and fear, these children, these angels, gifted him solace. They comforted him, they guided him home. And with the most selfless act of all, they loved him.

jKb



FRIDAYFICTPROMPTthehallway

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/2012/12/05/7-december-2012/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, take my hand and walk with me. I have something to share with you.

Here’s my contribution:

Holiday Inn

Laughter.

Not the type you hear at a Christmas party or where teens roughhouse or even the kind that makes your ass pucker. It’s not anything like those. It’s more like a wispy echo and in the distance children are playing. Or maybe once were.

ashes…ashes…they all fall down.

My feet are cold, bare upon this sterile floor. I step toward the lighted end, my reddened night shirt gapes.

More laughter, I step again.

The familiar voices ahead, are they my own?

Another step.

My sticky hands tremble.

Laughter.

It does not wipe off.

My God, what have I done?

jKb



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/2012/11/28/30-november-2012/

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

Here is my The Long Walk inspired contribution:

Run Rabbit Run

Rapid footfalls, burning lungs and bile-choked throat, the rabbit ran against odds. Any moment, he knew, the muscles of his legs would seize into twisted knots.

Then did.

The Bludgeons were relentless, steady, methodical. More machine than man with fluid filled pistons pumping, gears grinding, iris enhancements straining. Their metallic appendages crushed the lame varmint.

Cheers arose; the thrilled citizens brimming.

The course, the same route as the earlier celebrated holiday parade, was a five mile sprint for survival. Never a hare went unharmed.

Hungry throngs cheered from their secure roof tops vantages as another rabbit unexpectedly entered the field.

jKb



Thank you again to MadisonWoods for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction Friday postings at http://madisonwoods.wordpress.com/flash-fiction/moths-at-the-drive-through/

For those who are new, MadisonWoods shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers will compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come and play, won’t you?

Here is my contribution:

Dust

The facility far beneath the vacant cinder-block structure had been closed two years, a defunct burger front above. This reticent spicule of urban sprawl on the edge of Harrisonburg forever unsuspecting.  Experiments, cries for mercy, now ghostly whispers wafting up twelve stories of cement throat, echoing into deserted prep zones once deploying manipulated strains of polyunsaturated fat. Something new flitted from the depths; like burnt smolders of paper, seething, came the vectors. Such lovely moths. Beautiful metamorphosis married biochemistry. Paralytic liquid secreted as wings unfurled, dried to dust, dispersed during gyroscopic flight.

Nearby, recess bells marked the beginning.

jKb