Posts Tagged ‘nature’

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

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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  FENCE copyright-erin-leary-2

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/2014/05/21/23-may-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, join us, we are wide awake, and dreaming.

Here’s my contribution:

If Only It Were A Dream

My fever had lifted. At first light I left the coolness of my sheets to venture outdoors thinking fresh air would revive my soul. The scent of damp earth, the chortle of morning birds, dewy grasses licking my ankles, tickling sunlight upon my cheeks, all sensations of joy and living, yet all were unattainable.

Today there stood a fence, foreign to me, extending beyond my sight and which was certainly designed to contain. But what? I glanced down. In one hand was a can, the other a thick dripping brush, and it was clotted red.

From above a blackbird mocked.

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:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/03/25/28-march-2014/

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

Here’s my contribution:

The Lamb

The breeze was laced with damp earth and moldering leaves, the perfumes of early Spring flowers promised new beginnings, laughter chimed as the children played in the warmth of the sun, and Michael looked beyond the soft grass to the edge of the park and saw her standing beside an awakening Maple. She wore a thin dress, her shoulders bare and fresh. She smiled and raised a beckoning hand, then turned and entered into the woodland, giving provocative glances back, lifting her hem, revealing her want, her need. Michael left all behind. He followed.

Deeper she drew.

Deeper he came.

jKb

 

adamickes-boardwalk

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/2014/03/12/14-march-2014/

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

Here’s my contribution:

His Due

Brackish water swelled on the coming tide, choking the river basin, black as the moonless night, and full of dark terrors. Emory settled into his wooden chaise-longue at the dock termination, and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply the thick, humid night, tasted the salt and decay, and reveled in his remembrance of that long ago St. Augustine night. He recalled the clinging dress, the slow gyrations of her sinful hips, sweat beads like diamonds upon her neck and breasts, her full and hungry lips, and the jazz so sultry. He still owed that debt and how Ol’ Tick thirsted.

jKb

 These widgets have not been my friend. Just don’t seem to want to link up and work. Sorry.

FFF Prompt SpringHouse

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/2014/01/22/24-january-2014/

 

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, and you’ll need a shovel.

 

Here’s my contribution:

 

The Spring House

 

Trace toiled by hand and with the assistance of his mule, Gerald. While excavating the water source and preparing the ground for a stone foundation the mountainside wall dissolved revealing a deeper hollow.

 

Having retrieved his flashlight, Trace leaned inward exploring the darkness. Not ten feet away from his outstretched arm and previously concealed within the depths of the mountain was something huge, seemingly metallic based on how the light danced upon the surface, with a subtle curve, which his single light source could not fully expose.

 

Trace pushed through the opening and approached the strange thing.

 

What the hell?

jKb

Rising Water copyright-erin-leary

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/2014/01/15/17-january-2014/

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

Here’s my contribution:

Hold Your Breath

The throbbing behind his eyes seemed to grow as the morning sun angled higher, partially concealed behind the haze of an early morning shower. The earth was soggy behind his matted hair and cold beneath his bound body. He struggled against the cord – something electrical, a wire of some sort he recollected through a haze of his own.

Pieces came together: a land deal and contaminated water. His vision focused on the muddy edge of the hole he was in. And then the water, it spilled over the edge.

It rose slowly.

It wet his body.

It filled his ears.

jKb

 

FFF prompt ROOM with a view

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/2014/01/08/10-january-2013/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, enjoy a night in The Room With A View.

Here’s my contribution:

The Room With A View

The warden simply said, “you’ve won the lottery, Nolley. Parole came through.”

Nolley peeled a faded photo from the wall, tucked it inside his breast pocket, then offered his bare wrists to receive the iron manacles beginning his out-processing. He was guided through several doors, down a long corridor, then out an external passage to a soggy, sandy expanse.

The surf churned hungrily.

Your room with a view.” Upon an obviously man-made boulder sat a single, barnacle-covered cell.

Haven’t noticed this from the yard.”

Yea, Can’t see it at high tide, and she’s a comin’ in.”

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