Posts Tagged ‘MadisonWoods’

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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

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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

It’s Flash Fiction Friday time and we’re at our new home. A big thanks goes out to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for taking over the helm.

Please take a few moments to acquaint yourself with Rochelle by visiting her About page listed here: 

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/about/

The story sharing page for this week can be found here:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/friday-fictioneers-2/

And here’s my contribution:

 

Competitive Edge

Rock. Paper. Scissor. Shoot.” Two hands stuck forward, a fist, a flat hand.

Looks like it’s my lucky day. I’ll start the car.”

The remaining two, one eleven, the other fifteen, looked nervously around. The lunch ticket on the table still untouched.

What now?”

Quarter toss,” answered the other as he launched the coin end over end with the back of his thumb. The first called out ‘tails’ and snagged his fate. In the distraction the other made his escape.

Only one remained.

Hesitation.

A breath.

The race was on.

And, boy was he quick.

jKb

 

Thank you again to MadisonWoods for all her work and organization. This group is great because of the talent and friendship, the sharing and contributing, and it wouldn’t have gotten this far without your faithful commitment to us.

Thank you.

Visit Madison’s blog and read through the other Flash Fiction Friday postings at:

http://www.madison-woods.com/Wordpress/101912-2/

For those who are new, MadisonWoods shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers will compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Get on the bus and ride.

Here is my contribution:

Well Earned

Welcome winners. Mind your step.”

Isn’t this great?”

I’m not really certain.”

Seats. Then tickets. We have a schedule.”

What’s the first stop?”

Everybody buckled? We wouldn’t want an accident.”

How long before Vegas?”

Is this the right bus?”

Let’s get those tickets punched.”

Vegas? Yes. This bus does make a stop there. Check your ticket.”

This isn’t a bus pass. It reads like, like I’m in confession.”

Tickets, please.”

Let me off.”

Oh, no sir. We couldn’t do that. Your ticket’s been punched. No refunds.”

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://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



My mind’s been elsewhere. I wonder if when my mind travels, when I leave out on these magnificent adventures, is it just a whimsical fantasy, some lingering adolescent drivel? I believe no. Such is the language of the naysayers, and to them I ask: Is something not real because it escapes another’s sense of tangibility?

Evolve. Open your heart and open your mind.

If I journal the events and another reads and now two have shared the experience, and then a third and another, how can it be said that the dream is not real? You live how you wish, freely restricted, within your self-imposed walls of delusion. I will travel down the rabbit hole and there I shall meet others like me, again and again, for we are brothers and sisters and what we share is nothing less than magical.

Poof.

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://www.madison-woods.com/index-of-stories/100512-2/

For those who are new, MadisonWoods shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers will compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Now the pitch. Go ahead. Choose the red one.

My contribution:

For Love

He dreamed it would be done here. Eventually. In this safe harbor of peace and union; where their family nurtured their bodies as well as their souls; where struggles were confronted and solutions devised, together.

Here, a pact was forged; another bled.

She sought a love. Other than that which arose beside her each morning, labored daily to provide comfort, fed and bathed her when sick, which kept her true, only, contained within his walls.

In this room, upon this shared table she stretched before the other, revealed her passion, explored places all together new and unknown.

But, for what?

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://madison-woods.com/index-of-stories/092112-2/

For those who are new, MadisonWoods shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers will compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come out, come out, wherever you are.

Here is my contribution:

I Still Love You

It wasn’t a mistake. I loved her.”

This is your apology? You think these words you’re shitting will make me stay?”

I love you, too. I’m not asking for forgiveness. I want you to understand me. Then, maybe, you can accept me.”

Fuck you. And, fuck that whore.”

Yes. That is your position. Love, try to understand mine.”

I don’t give a flying fuck about your position.”

I’ll go then.”

Good riddance. Shit. Get down from there.”

Sorry.”

Come down. Stop!”

So sorry.”

DON’T!”

I still love you.

Postscript

Stripped out was the roof top gathering of friends, of peers and those who you couldn’t care less about, who fed upon another’s misfortune and pain, hangers-on who lacked original thought, who contributed nothing but parasitic gorging. A trio played Blue Moon. City lights and a smattering of celestial bodies graced the brisk evening. Champagne flowed and accompanied the feathered masks and formal dress. And their private discourse became ever so public.

The railing was low, cold. He climbed with specific intent, to grasp her in the last moment, jerk her into his reality, to carry her with him, homeward bound. Almost like the way he bore her across the threshold into wedded bliss some years before.

He missed, he flailed, he failed to counter the mystery of gravity.

Spectators gasped, some even marveled, and only one heard the scream. I still love you.

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



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/083112-3/

For those who are new, MadisonWoods shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers will compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come. Let us take a little stroll while we commiserate.

Today’s installment:

Unlearning To Fall

From the balcony, perching her frailness upon bony hands, Lenore peered past her clutch through lush canopy and recalled her fall. In memory, each eternal clock tick seemed like flying rather than her actual descent into this roiling hell.

She wept until tears turned to dust.

Come.

The gentle breeze wooed again, offering solace if Lenore would leave the metal bar to plunge once again.

Die.

She would rise again, and again; there was no reprieve. How she hungered, not for sustenance, but for sweet death.

She shuddered.

She leaped.

She flew.

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://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