First Date

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photo credit: A Mixed Bag (Al Forbes)

“Are you kidding me! This has got to be the worse movie ever!”

Deb’s remarks vibrated throughout entire theater, answered with a resounding ‘SHHHHH’.

Wyatt tried to calm her down.

“Baby, please, you’re disturbing everyone.”

Deb lowered her voice but not her insolence.

“I can’t believe you brought me to this…. whatever you call this movie.”

Plan 9 from Outer Space. It’s a classic.”

“It’s crap Wyatt. OMG, do you see the strings attached to the planets? What kind of person brings a first date to a movie like this?”

“I thought you’d like it. You said you liked Sci-Fi.”

“I like Star Wars. Real science fiction. My little brother could do better with his Legos and a point-and-shoot camera.”

A few moments later, Deb stood up and announced she was leaving.

“Can you get me some popcorn when you come back?”

“No Wyatt, I’m leaving the theater. For good. And don’t bother calling me again.”

After Deb walked out, the man in the seat behind Wyatt tapped him on the shoulder.

“Man, tough break, but good riddance is all I can say. How could anyone not like this stuff.”

 

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a 200-word story based on a photo prompt. As a fan of horrible science fiction, this was a no-brainer. 

 Old Crow

Kika and his brother Hakan were walking through the woods in search of blueberries for Grandmother’s pie. Across the stream, Hakan noticed a bush ripe with berries.

“There are enough berries for two pies on that bush,” said Hakan, stepping into the stream.

In the tree above sat Old Crow, cawing “Danger, Danger.” Hearing the warning, Kika pleaded with his brother to return. “Do you not hear Old Crow?” he asked.

“That old bird is a trickster. He wants the berries for himself.”

Old Crow persisted with each step Hakan took, but the berries were too inviting for Hakan to return. When Hakan safely reached the other shore, he turned to Old Crow and laughed.

“Maybe I will leave a berry or two for your dinner.” He then filled his basket with the juicy berries.

By now Hakan was hungry and it would be hours before Grandmother baked the pie. As Hakan placed a handful of berries in his mouth, Old Crow cawed even louder than before. But his warning was unheeded and within moments, Hakan’s stomach burned in pain, causing him to fall into the stream. The berries had been poison.

With that, Old Crow flew away.

 

I hope you enjoyed my story. Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner is a weekly challenge to write a 200-word story, inspired by a photography. Stories for this week can be found at flash-fiction-for-the-purposeful-practitioner-2017-week-32

 

The Coming Storm

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PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Tornados rarely formed during the hot Oklahoma summer, but the still, humid air signaled a coming storm. Joe stood on his porch, watching. Hearing footsteps, he turned and saw a man standing a few feet away, a baseball bat in hand.

“Jesus Boone, you scared the shit out of me. What’s up with the….”

The bat connected with Joe’s head before he could finish the sentence. Toppling off the porch, Joe landed in the dirt, blood pooling in the dead grass. As thunder clapped, Boone raced toward the road.

Standing in the shadows of the front door, a small figure watched everything.

<<count 102>>

This story was inspired by Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneer’s . Thanks to Rochelle for providing this week’s photo.

 

Sunday Photo Fiction: The Red Rider

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Photo Credit: J. Hardy Carroll

Marcus Darksmyth, the Wolverine of Wall Street, eyes the tele-monitors hanging on the walls of his massive office. A brilliant man with a tenancy for evil, Darksmyth craved chaos. Today, using his influence with the corrupt police department, he placed off-limit signs on a perfectly good stretch of a busy sidewalk. Darksmyth chuckles as he watches countless commuters approach the barricade, override their instincts to continue and instead race across the busy street.

“This town needs are more men with balls,” Darksmyth would often say to his boardroom minions.

How he hated the lemmings of the world.

Darksmyth soon notices a young female strangely dressed in tight black leather pants, knee-high boots, and a bright red hooded cape approach the sign. If nothing else, she was pleasing to the eye. Unexpectedly, she looks straight into the camera transmitting the images to Darksmyths office. With a smile and a wink, the woman tosses the sign into a pile of rubble and marches down the sidewalk, followed by a throng of others.

The bristles on the back of Darksmyth’s neck stand up as excitement fills his being. Life suddenly became more interesting now that he was aware of the Red Rider.

 

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a short 200-word story inspired by a photograph. This week’s photo is provided by J. Hardy Carroll

 

Flowers on the Corner

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PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Pretty flowers for a pretty girl.

Every day, the old Chinese woman squatted on the same busy street corner, calling to all who walked by. Vases filled with tiger lilies surrounded her. Seattle overflowed with street people selling what they could, begging for the rest. Most people walked by without notice, as if she were part of the street lantern her back propped against. The old woman sold flowers to survive, but she waited on the corner for the young daughter she gave up for adoption 25 years before. She would know her Tiger Lily when she saw her.

 

This story was inspired by a photo prompt posted on Friday Fictioneer’s , a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less. Photo Prompt provided by Dale Rogerson

Sunday Photo Fiction: Secret Agent Man

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Photo Prompt by Al Forbes

After months of secret negotiations, we reached an agreement. The information I held was so top-secret that the only logical place for exchange was in plain sight. Concerned for my own safety, I insisted on a place public and what’s more public than the London Eye. I arrived early, suspicious of a set-up. I may just be a reporter but I’ve read enough crime fiction to know that ‘come alone’ is just a suggestion. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary, I entered the glass pod as it slowly inched its way above the London skyline. My contact stood next to the window railing. The pink flamingo tie gave him away. I moved next to him and we exchanged pleasantries, as tourists do. Then came the fun part. I reached inside my jacket for the envelop. Proof that could destroy democracy. My hands shook and the coolness on my brow came from sweat.

Crime novels don’t lie. I felt the sharp stab at my left side, producing a slight dampness near my ribcage. To my right, pink flamingo tie whispered, “You’re coming with us.”

I looked through the glass at London below, knowing it would be for the last time.

 

 

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a short, 200-word story inspired by a photograph. Many thanks go to Al Forbes for supplying this week’s photo.

200-words

 

Regrets

Photo Credit: Ken Bonham

This story takes place in the 1940’s and should not be judged through 2017 eyes. Back then women had few rights when it came to their children, marriage, and divorce.

Rose left her children before they formed memories of her.  At 16, her step-dad arranged a marriage, a means of ridding himself of her. By 18, she was the mother of two healthy boys: a perfect baby-making machine.  The marriage soured like the alcohol on his breath and at 21, Rose walked out the door, leaving her babies behind.  Because this is what the women in her family did. They moved on. But before leaving for good, Rose sat in her car, across from the school yard, watching her boys play; hoping she did the right thing.

 

This story was inspired by a photo prompt posted on Friday Fictioneer’s, a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less. Photo Prompt provided by Ken Bonham.