Archive for the ‘writing’ Category

FFF Prompt bay-windows

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/2015/09/02/4-september-2015/

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

Come, share some exhilaration.

Here’s my contribution:

Leap Of Faith

She taunted, “You’re too afraid. You can’t possibly love me.”

“Why don’t you believe me?” Philip called down from the third floor window. “Please don’t leave me.”

“You lack faith. And, sadly, it’s disturbing.”

She turned to walk away, but slowly. She was waiting.

“I can prove it.”

“You’ve had your opportunities, Philip, and you’ve squandered them.”

“Name it. I’ll do anything.” Bingo.

“Anything? Like wrestle an alligator?”

Philip was nodding emphatically, leaning way out, his face twisted in agony. “Yes.”

“Like eat dog shit?”

“Anything.”

He couldn’t resist. Her control overwhelmed him.

“Show me.

“Here boy.

“Go on.

“NOW!”

jKb

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FFF Prompt moths

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/2015/08/12/14-august-2015/

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

Come, enjoy another oldie. These bring back fond memories.

Here’s 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

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:

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/04/08/10-april-2015/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, see what lurks beyond the secret door.

Here’s my contribution:

Beyond The Secret Door

“When Marshal’s guys rolled the car back so the electrician could access the relay station underneath, some stones from the back wall collapsed in.”

Sheriff Shoemacher swung his finger like he was stealing a taste of cake batter. “Not that way.” The deputy climbed down into the 5-foot square hole which housed the circuitry. He directed his flashlight beam into a dark recess which traveled beneath the old Red Caboose Museum and platform on which the Sheriff was standing. “That way.”

Shoemacher circled to the far side of the hole. In the shadowy depths of the recess was a door.

jKb

FFF Prompt rachel-bjerke

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/2015/03/18/20-march-2015/

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

I wonder if they ever looked in the fountain.

Come, tell me if you can hear it too.

Here’s my contribution:

Listen

“It happened in a wooded area very near here,” Trish continued her tale, treading deeper into the woodland, a string of small children ambling in her wake.

“What happened, Ms. Trish?”

“The story goes that seven year-old Tessa was drawn into the woods by a life-sized raggedy doll. Her brother Jeremy saw it too, peeking around trees, smiling at her with stitched mouth and button eyes. It was calling to her and waving to follow.”

“Then what?”

“She went off down a trail like this one. Jeremy said he could hear talking just ahead.”

“What was that?”

“Shhhh.”

“Listen.”

Come!

jKb

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

FFF Prompt grapevine2bgoo1

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/2014/08/27/29-august-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, let me ask you. How’s your bones?

This bit is a teaser for something I’ve been working on.

Here’s my contribution:

Seekanauk

His jaw ached and two ribs were certainly cracked. Bradley swung his feet onto the wide-planked pine and sat at the bed edge. All for a girl, he thought feeling his nose. The pain was worse in his sinuses but he couldn’t recall the impacts, just voices, a sucker-punch from the side, and then cold salt-flat mud. He’d been thrown from the dock and left for dead but the rising tide had roused him. And now, as he looked upon his battered reflection there was a tickle, and he saw, what was that, a crab leg wriggling into his nostril?

jKb

FFF Prompt  parked

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/2014/08/20/22-august-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, tell us your hopes and dreams.

Here’s my contribution:

Target Practice

Dale’s head rumbled like the five pin on the last frame when everything was on the line. And everything was on the line. Bank took the house and Cherri ran off with the kids and the dog while he was swapping oil filters at the shop. He knew she’d be gone, too. She’d become quiet and cold and hell if she hadn’t voted for this guy with his hope and change. Dale squinted off the shards of light coming through the windshield of his new living arrangement and eyed a bumper sticker. Just politics he thought and squeezed the trigger.

jKb

FFF Prompt  antique-desk

I’ve been MIA and have no good excuse. I actually do but it’s a secret. Enough of that, let’s just get on with it, shall we?

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/2014/08/13/15-august-2014/

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

Here’s my contribution:

Till Death Do Us Part

Wick gathered the necessary: charred bones, tar, pitch, water. Parts when combined produced ink.

There were also variations to the formula, modifications which were designed to achieve desired results. For instance he could substitute water with tears to produce sorrow, or semen for love, or blood for, well, blood.

Of all these Wick had learned.

To complete this enchantment and thus set the snare Wick need only breathe the words of his desire across the drying ink, then deliver his impregnated letter.

He composed his confession of love, and as he did, he whispered of release. And of sweet death.

jKb

fridayfictioneerspromptcopyright-lura-helms-2-300x225

This prompt brought forth a story many of you have already read. It was placed into Madison Woods’ Anthology and selected as the Editor’s Pick. If you are unfamiliar with the publication here is the link:

http://www.amazon.com/1-x-50-100-ebook/dp/B00GU57UWA

I remember writing this story very specifically. My family and I had just finished with a research trip disguised as a vacation to Maine. So beautiful. I was typing notes into my laptop while sipping a thick cup of coffee on my couch. I flipped over to see the prompt for the week and this story fell on me like an avalanche.

So I say thank you to MadisonWoods for all her work.

She passed the torch to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields to whom I’d also like to say thank you for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/06/25/27-june-2014-summer-rerun-ii/

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

Here is my contribution:

Lover’s Knotty Tree

Seamus gouged letters into the body of the behemoth, his blade old but capable, swiped from the tool shed. Digging, twisting, he outlined with a heart, deepened the grooves, declared his love for Ginny.

He whistled.

He smiled.

He whittled away.

The outstretched arms above shivered as if capturing some invisible breath. Seamus, still working his knife, peered upward.  Leaves spiraled.

Seamus’ world trembled.

The tree groaned, arose, a bleeding heart pulsing on the sleeve of bark. Dirt and rocks flung high, roots poised like octopus tentacles.

A hush.

Seamus stumbled, fell. The giant pounced.

Horrid shrieks echoed through the woodlands.

jKb