UGLY FRUIT? NO, GUAVA!
“No way am I trying that!”
“Come on Cheryl, its delicious. Don’t be such a baby.”
“I’m not a baby, Ethel, I just don’t like the looks of it.”
“But Guava’s rich in vitamin C and helps cure bad breath.”
“So, now you’re saying I have bad breath? That’s rich coming from you, Ethel.”
“No! I mean it’s good for you.”
“Never, it’s an ugly fruit.”
(My apologies to my friend Suzanne for not writing something Ghoulistic in my first post at the GGP)
The Prompt for Chimera 66 Micro-Fiction Challenge #4 is:
An edible pale orange tropical fruit with pink, juicy flesh and a strong, sweet aroma.
- • Challenge submissions must be fiction or poetry.
- • Submissions must be exactly 66 words.
- • Submissions must use the prompt as specified.
- • Submissions are written for this challenge, and do not pre-date the kickoff post.
- • One submission per spectre.
- • Please put lengthy explanations at the end of your post, not at the beginning.
- • Don’t forget to add the code for the challenge badge to your post.
- • And don’t forget to have fun!
- Here is where to find out about THE GRAMMAR GHOUL PRESS and read other stories… They are scary, not like mine.
THE BOOK OF THE MONTH CLUB
“‘Diamond Jack had his hideout next to the Rattle Snake River’. Ethel, I’m not reading this trash?”
“It’s historical fiction, Cheryl. Set in the Old West.”
“Historical fiction, my ass! Look at the tv antenna on top of the house on the cover. How old is this West? Are they riding horses and robbing stagecoaches?”
“I haven’t gotten that far yet, they’re just hiding out.”
“Well, that’s what hideouts are for. When you signed us up for a book club, I thought we would be reading best sellers, not dime novels that cost $15. And you know I don’t like Westerns.”
“That’s not so, you like Clint Eastwood.”
“I love Clint Eastwood, but not because he was in Westerns.”
“Well you have to be in the book club. Just pretend he’s Diamond Jack and read the damn book! There’s sex too, and don’t tell me you don’t like sex. You read Lady Chatterley’s Lover.”
“That was historical, Ethel, no television antennas!”
Trying to make time to write some stories again and thought I’d try this group my friend E. A. Wicklund of Momus News writes with.
Here are the instructions… “Are you ready for Mondays Finish the Story challenge? This is a flash fiction challenge where we provide you with a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story.Your challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided. Don’t forget to use the opening sentence…“Diamond Jack had his hideout next to the Rattle Snake River”. Get creative and have fun finishing the story!”
Look here for other stories for this week’s… MONDAYS FINISH THE STORY
Photo by Barbara Beacham
MUCKING OUT …A Drabble for FriFic
At a brownstone in Wicker Park, the new apartment manager goes to work…
“Where do we start?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, ‘What do I mean’, Ethel? You asked for help, this place is a disaster! Who the hell was this Doug guy, look at this junk!”
“He was a sweet guy, very poetic, and he loved the sea. Did I tell you he was a submarine commander once?”
“Didn’t look the sailor type to me, Ethel, more of a mountain climber, and definitely not a poet.”
“That’s why he moved to Hawaii, to live on a mountain. Pick something out, Cheryl.”
“He took all the good stuff, Ethel!!!”
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STOP THE MUSIC!!!… A Drabble for FriFic
“Hi, Cheryl, it’s me.”
“I know it’s you before I pick up the phone, stop telling me every time.”
“Well get over here, the shit’s going to hit the fan!”
“What the hell are you talking about, Ethel?”
“The kids, the kids downstairs playing music! I’ve called the cops!”
“No. I thought they were pretty good.”
“Well, you don’t live above them and have to listen to it night and day. Besides, I seem to remember you were pretty pissed when we were watching Big Brother, and now you won’t come over for Survivor.”
“Oh Yeah!!! I’ll be right over.”
♬ ♪ ♫ 𝄫♩♩♬ 𝄆 ♪ ♪ ♫ ♭ 𝄡 ♪ 𝄫 ♩ ♪ ♬
A 100 Word Flash Fiction for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers, based on her photo.
DIVING by Ula Grace
As we put on our bulky Scuba gear I smile in anticipation of the underwater trip we are about to take. I haven’t been diving in a couple of years so I’m a little nervous. But as soon as we get in the water that all goes away, and I immerse myself in the beauty and mystery of the ocean we are part, if only for a short time. We swim deeper and deeper toward our destination: a sunken ship. I am so enthralled by the fish that I fail to notice the huge shadow in front us until it looms up ahead recognizable as a boat. We swim over it. It is it’s own whole habitat, separate yet in union with the ocean. There is all kinds of coral and underwater plants growing on the hull and deck, and along the railing of the ship. Fish are everywhere, miniature purple ones swimming in schools, and large ones swimming solo. It makes me sad to leave this underwater paradise.
This installment in Ula’s Cuba Stories takes place in Playa Girón.
To read other stories… THE CUBAN DIARY
Photography for this story courtesy of Steven Gutmann
A CAUTIONARY TALE
Cook County General… Chicago, Illinois… Room 317… 11:30p.m.
Everything hurt. Cheryl looked at her friend and that’s what she saw. And that is what she would probably say when she awoke.
It had all started with that damn PennySaver ad. “Why waste money on a repairman when You can fix it?” “Let us show you the easy way to Do-It-Yourself!” She had told Ethel there was no easy way, and that a few online classes wouldn’t make her an expert on fixing things. But Ethel had replaced the cord on her window shade and fixed her blender, though she was out of her protein shake phase, so she had to give her credit for that.
Earlier that day, Cheryl had just fixed lunch and was going to watch the Big Brother episode she had recorded when the phone rang.
“Is this Miss Cheryl?”
“Hi Dominic, why are you calling me?”
“It’s Miss Ethel. She is going to hospital and you should know.”
Cheryl shifted in her chair and continued filling out the crossword in the Trib. ‘What the hell was Ethel thinking? Well this should teach that do-gooder a lesson. Let the landlord fix the damn dryer.’ Cheryl immediately felt sorry for that thought. ‘But really, any damn fool knows you unplug something before working on it. It says so on the back of the machine. Maybe they didn’t teach that in their fix-it class.’
The nurse had looked grave when Cheryl got to the hospital. Nurse Betty explained that her friend had received a serious electrical shock, but was expected to live. She was sedated and would sleep for sometime, they would call when she was awake. The doctor hoped there would be no lasting effects, but you never know. Cheryl thanked her, and said she would wait with Ethel, if that was okay. ‘It would serve her right if she got one of those white streaks in her hair like Angela Lansbury had in that movie.’
Cheryl was wishing there was another bed in the room when Ethel moaned, stirred and her eyes popped open.
“Where am I? What are you doing here?”
“I’m doing my crossword while I wait for you to wake up. Your dryer repair job didn’t go so well. Do you remember what happened? How do you feel?”
“Ooh, everything hurts.”
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The Speakeasy is back from summer vacation!
- Submissions must be 750 words or fewer.
- Submissions must be fiction or poetry.
- The following sentence must be the FIRST line in your submission: “Everything hurt.”
- You must also include a reference to the media prompt.
A RIDE AROUND THE CITY… by Ula Grace
The wind rushes through my hair as if in a hurry. We breeze down the ocean side highway in our neon pink Caddy at the start of our tour of Havana.
Our first stop is the Hotel Nacional, a hotel built in the 30’s and famous for housing people like Al Capone and others. We speed toward our next destination: Vedado. On the opposite side of Havana as Old Havana, otherwise known as Habana Viejo in Spanish. Next the Plaza de la Revolucion, with the black outlines of Cuba’s greatest now dead heroes: Ché Guevara and Camlio Cienfuegos. Below Ché there is his famous quote “Hasta la Victoria Siempre” (in English “For Victory, Always”).
We leave the plaza and drive onward. My favorite place is next: The John Lennon Park. I had been waiting to go here throughout the whole drive. We arrive at the park to find dry, scraggly, yellow grass and burning bronze benches, one of which a bronze statue is lounging with the words “Ustede puede decir que soy soñador pero no soy el único” (in English “You may say I’m a dreamer but I’m not the only one”). I rush out of the car to sit next to my Idol for a picture, but I have to sit on my bag because the bench is too hot. As we reach the bench we are met by an old man holding a pair of eyeglasses for the bronze John. He carefully places the glasses on the statue and waits for us to finish taking pictures. As we walk back to the car, I look back and smile to see how carefully the little old glasses man handles the little bronze glasses.
We go next to a lush green park and stop for a beverage. When we leave I decide to sit on the back of the seat and my auntie Krissy sits up with me. We ride like that to our next stop: a green house that my mom specially requested to see. But we couldn’t go inside. To end our tour, our guide took us through a tunnel under the ocean to a castle. All in all it was a fantastic tour in a ridiculous car and was thoroughly enjoyed by all.
Another installment from our Foreign Correspondent, Ula Grace, as she recalls her visit to Cuba with her parents Krista and Steve.
To see other stories… THE CUBAN DIARY