FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~According To Plan~

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/2013/03/27/29-march-2013/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, the flame can only linger a short while.

Here’s my contribution:

According To Plan

“The thing about magic,” Sophie shared while setting two oil lamps upon the table. She produced a lighter, brought life to one and repositioned the hurricane glass.

“…not the slight-of-hand stuff, I mean the real thing…” She exhaled a kiss against the glass and the flame shimmered. “Pay attention.” Sophie began to blow and the flame quivered, then, simply snuffed out.

With a finger snap another flame licked to life in the second vessel, only this conjured tongue cast thick shadows.

“…it doesn’t always go according to plan.”

The shadows melded.

“And sometimes, it does.”

jKb

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~Maddening~

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/2013/03/06/8-march-2013/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, hurry, you mustn’t delay.

Upon viewing this weeks prompt a thought struck me…What if Ray Bradbury had penned something like The Wonderland Chronicles. A tinny taste arose. I began.

Here’s my contribution:

Maddening

This seemed all too familiar, almost a dreamscape. I felt awake. Wasn’t I?

Standing upon the riser, unable to recall if I were rising or descending, I was struck by such an absurd impression: I had been captured or restrained within a conch shell.

Preposterous.

I reasoned this the throat of a tower and dared tread lower to effect my escape, and glancing behind, discovered I was directly where I’d begun.

Indeed, curious.

Pondering, unable to recall events prior, I elected to climb.

A white light throbbed as a digitized voice prompted, “Hurry ahead, Alison. You mustn’t be late.”

jKb

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~Stories In The Attic~

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/2013/01/16/18-january-2013/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, let’s play up in my attic.

Here’s my contribution:

Stories In The Attic

On Saturdays Bubbe would have tea with her friends in the front formal room, a handful of gossiping ladies in nice dresses and conservative cloches eating rugelach. Eventually, they’d circle around to Zayde. He had adored Bubbe and for all her pain she certainly had enjoyed a lifetime of good fortune.

My brother and I would escape to another world, up to the attic with its odd slanted ceiling boards and stacks of dusty boxes. We never knew the joy of knee bouncing or tickle wars, but one Saturday, while we played in Bubbe’s attic this old phone rang.

jKb

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~No Longer Carnival~

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://madison-woods.com/101212-2/

For those who are new, MadisonWoods shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers will compose a 100-word flash of fiction. If you would like, come dancing.

Here is my contribution:

No Longer Carnival

Night became day. The echoes of Carnival receded, driven by the rising sun, like some ebbing tide chasing its mistress moon. No longer were the celebrators adorned in fanciful costumes. No longer did they roil in the streets and alleyways. The music had stopped. The dancing ended. Feasting ceased. The tangle of gyrating humanity which seemed to be copulating as one was now gone.

Peter strained against the light, his eyes wrinkled to slits.

Confusion settled in as his senses returned nothing. No sounds. No smells. Nothing remained but a blinding white wash.

He stood alone.

Something was terribly wrong.

jKb

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~To Decide~

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://madison-woods.com/index-of-stories/082412-2/

For those who are new, MadisonWoods shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers will compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come. Would you like a piece of candy? How about a nice balloon?

Today’s installment:

To Decide

Nailed to the town center post was a stretched vellum bearing proper seal and ink. Rose came upon the misty square at first light while bringing eggs for the market. She paused at the notice, lips slowly shaping words, her palm mindfully caressing her protruding belly as she read a second time with narrower eyes. Her grasp weakened, mouth slackened. The woven basket slid then crashed to the ground. Another government decree, this time declaring only one child per marriage, effective immediately. The most chilling word printed in boldest red stated ‘Retroactive’.

“Oopsy daisy, mommy. You had an askident.”

jKb

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~Lover’s Knotty Tree~

Finally finished with my travels (a vacation disguised as a research trip) and I must say, if you haven’t ventured to Maine, do it. Now. And support your local farmers and fishermen, but I digress.

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://madison-woods.com/index-of-stories/081712-2/

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, 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.

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~Lover’s Embrace~

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://madison-woods.com/index-of-stories/outside-pecos/

For those who are new, MadisonWoods shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers will compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come. Follow me into the desert as thirsty as you are…

Here is my Sound Garden inspired contribution:

Lover’s Embrace

“Come. Follow me.”

“The sun’s still high, mate. Not going out there. I need another drink.”

“But she’s hurt.”

“A girl? You saw a girl?”

“I left her in the sand.”

The unlikely pair exited swinging doors, raising hands, warding off the boiling sun. Just beyond the marker of town’s limit lay a blackened heap. Sand hissed beneath their running soles.

On one knee he rolled her, found bleached teeth, blistered skin, once beautiful eyes withering. “Worthless.”

“No, you’re not. Now she can feed.”

Tendrils wisped forth, pulling, constricting. The final lover’s embrace.

jKb

Free Form Poetry ~finding way~

Finding Way

Paths selected in favor of the more passable.

I clutch these choices to my breast, they cannot be stripped.

Whether worse or better, I claim thee, mine alone.

I own nothing if not my choices,

Or, they own me.

I cherish, I honor, I love, in my way.

But, I am tempted, and I am weak.

I am human, still.

Confident and capable, just not so as they believe.

Once I wished, in earnest prayer to be.

No longer.

I have my choices, my decisions.

And here, this lane.

For me, not them.

And then something else.

My match met, we know.

My stride broken, pride taken, I think.

Or simply given away?

Mistakes made, we were not mistaken.

Nothing to regret.

Was true, all, fierce indeed, and unknown in this pass before,

and Is Love.

Suffered yet, I died, and, I lived.

Upon this mirror I witness a slower and different being.

Persisting here, but not alone.

Feeling here, I am unwhole.

But I am no longer worse.

I am finding way.

jKb

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY ~The Gospel~

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/vertigo/

 

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. Do it. It’s fun.

 

Here’s my contribution, again, somewhat early. But, I’ve limited internet and must make hay when the sun shines.

 

The Gospel

“Here comes another.”

“Thought we’d seen the last.”

“Coming to port.”

“Feeble. Adrift in this destitute ether, and we an almighty battleship, reduced to scourging the flotsam. The indignation.”

“In range of flame-jets in ten seconds.”

“Don’t they understand the world? We’re of science, not superstition.”

“In range, Sir. Awaiting orders.”

“Open port torpedo portals. Make ready.”

“Sir. she’s coming about.”

“What’s this new game?”

“She’s broadsiding. Her guns are hot. Orders, Sir.”

“The Gospel?”

Expanding flash, ship ablaze, puckered flesh.

One parched whisper.

“Good Heavens.”

jKb

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY

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/rainbows/

Here’s my contribution…I hope you enjoy.

Glass-Craft

The old people centuries before were shipwrecked upon this world, their cryptic glyphs and schematics lasered in stone. Icarus labored to decipher those foreign characters. He gathered rare desert sands, combined valuable gems, as instructed. He melted, fused, tempered the glass. A hull fabricated. An engine constructed, to be fueled by light itself.

The new people gathered under seasonal rains, they celebrated. Icarus boarded his glass-craft. Clouds parted, sun blazed, engines roared. His ship stretched skyward, took flight, bent light.

The crowd cheered as the ship rose.

Icarus bowed forth. Then, gone.

He visits frequently, just after rains cease.

jKb