Posts Tagged ‘child’

FLASHFICTIONPROMPT

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/2013/09/04/6-september-2013/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, eat your fill and more, so much more.

Here’s my contribution:

Gathering

Edward enjoyed pretty things, sparklies, toys and trinkets.

He would observe the children going to and fro while mopping up or emptying waste bins. They mindlessly clutched items which Edward believed to be unappreciated. They didn’t deserve the pretties.

So he gathered them.

And there was such a thrill in retrieving the prizes, late at night, slithering through an unlocked window.

Tonight, he stepped soundlessly, saliva flooding his mouth, full arousal in his trousers. The bedded child murmured, lips parted, then, her twinkling eyes fluttered open.

His hard hand clamped immediately over her cherub face.

“No. Shhhhh. You mustn’t scream.”

jKb

 

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FFF PROMPT Tree on Car copyright-roger-bultot

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/2013/08/14/16-august-2013/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, let us hold hands and tell stories, and share in the wrath of a child.

Here’s my contribution:

Her Name Is Jane

A plastic bag twirled across the unusually quiet Main Street riding a hot and sticky summer gust.

She’s a prima ballerina, isn’t she?” asked the child dangling bare legs over the side of the courthouse steps. In another voice she began to make the nappy, stuffed zebra sitting beside her respond but her happy place was dissolving; the ballerina had become snagged on one of the proud trees which lined the street.

This interruption angered the child and she shrieked.

Stop it!”

The tree was plucked and flung and in the commotion the zebra toppled off the ledge.

Zigzag, No!”

jKb

FlashFictionPrompt aqueduct-sarah-ann-hall

I lay in bed, reading a long lost friend. No. Nothing like that, not really. That sounds too fantastic, too contrived. I missed some modern greats in my youth for I was doing other than reading. What I was doing was living (something we forget all too often). I was by the sword which was a guitar and all that came with. Never the less, there I was not minutes ago, book in hand, two sheets to the wind, the courthouse tower ringing out the hour only steps away, and this thought would not settle, damn it, for all I wanted was to learn what the Gunslinger would do next and enjoy my sweet buzz. Someone (thing) was speaking. Get up you fool, the voice said. Not the first time in my life, I might add. And I know this voice, we’ve become enemies of a sort because I’m stubborn and don’t play by the conventions. But tonight I was moved, so I ventured down through narrow passage lighted by street torches beyond, fumbled the cork and poured, and then powered up the old faithful. So here I now sit, upon a bar stool, with a freshly poured Cab, pecking at the keys. By the time one reads this the cab will be dry and my neighbors might know my level of apnea induced by reds and pollen. Fair well and fear appropriately, my friends.

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/2013/05/15/17-may-2013/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, sneak a peek inside, what wonders you shall behold.

Here’s my contribution:

What Truth Awaits?

She fled through the window which once framed everything wonderful. Down the blossom covered trellis, her escape made.

Could hate be love deceived?

Twelve.

Mustn’t there be other?

Beyond white pickets and onward, nigh three crush petals and scattered memories, she ran, guided by the only lover she would ever know.

A prying light.

Another fence.

This iron, a barrier inward or out she cared not. She climbed, leaped. She crouched seeking shadow’s shelter.

In silvering moonlight she could just see the grid upon which she now stood, then, something moved. Nearby, a hungry grinding began to chew the earth.

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



I’ve been distracted. Here’s what happened. I walked up the hill to the library, checked out Charles Bukowski’s Hollywood, then back down the hill to my couch. In no time, maybe 5 pages turned, I felt the urge to have a drink. There’s something about Buk and this story. For me, I can’t read him during the daylight hours without risk of exposing myself as a laughing lush. That was a few days ago and I’m sobering up. Time to head back up the hill. This time I think I’ll try a nice Vonnegut. Some things warrant being opened again and again, don’t you agree?

I invite all of you to taste Bukowski’s words for the first time, or drink them up once more.

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

http://madison-woods.com/091412-2/

For those who are new, MadisonWoods shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers will compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come. Settle yourself and stay a while. Just make sure you bring a bottle with you. It’s the polite thing to do.

Today’s installment:

Dreaming

At the edge of darkness eyes glinted. Wetted pincers silently rubbed like a gold miser’s unsettled fingers. From this high vantage she observed the shallow rhythmic breathing, the softly cooing nature of the bedded cherub. Cheeks plump, lips slightly parted beneath upturned nose, curls of hair.

Her bulbous body, pointed appendages extended, approaching in fluid descent, entered a sliver of light. A gray pea was positioned beneath her abdomen. She stopped, hovered, as legs deftly worked. The sack was unlatched then meticulously tucked within the black hollow of the child’s ear, sealed with mucous.

The burbling host remained ever dreaming.

jKb