Little Sally looked at the cat.
The cat looked at Little Sally.
‘What is a cat doing in a library,’ thought little Sally. Little Sally didn’t particularly care for cats; she thought they were sneaky.
The cat didn’t particularly care for little girls; she didn’t think they were trustworthy.
“What’s that cats name?“
“Rainbow,” said the lady behind the desk.
Little Sally thought she looked unhappy by the door. She thought of all cats as girls, all dogs, boys.
She opened the front door wide and Rainbow dashed out, ‘Good riddance, no sneaky library cats while I’m reading.’
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February 20, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a library cat named Rainbow who escapes. Use this situation to write what happens next. Where does this e=situation take place, and who else might be involved? Go where the prompt leads!
Cat drawing by nef
Special thanks to Ula Grace of Rutgers U for proofreading my story and saying it was cute.
“Can’t get this song out of my head today. It’s driving me crazy.”
“I’ll give you a hint. Let me take you down.”
“Uh, not getting it.”
“Nothing to get hung about?”
“Why don’t you sing the tune and not just say the lyrics?”
Why didn’t you just say that? Strawberry Fields!”
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Want to take part in the WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT? Write a story or poem with just 56 words, no more no less, and send it to Sammi Cox.
Lots of stories at My Random Musings, click the badge.
“Cheryl, to what do I owe the honor?”
“Don’t be a smart ass, there’s a dog in my daisies, I’m not happy!”
“Sounds like it. What happened, why tell me?”
“It’s the dog you and Betty rescued from that shelter in Cicero. I still don’t know what the hell you two were doing in Cicero.”
“That was last summer. Betty heard there was a boxer, and we saw this little terrier that would be perfect to replace Marty’s Sweetie.”
“Well, I loved Sweetie, but this one’s in my garden and Marty’s not home. Get over here, Ethel!”
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Charlie Mills prompt caught my eye today!
February 6, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story to the theme “a dog in the daisies.” It can be any dog, real or imagined. Push into the setting and as always, go where the prompt leads!
Author’s note: The dog in the prompt photo looks like Betty’s dog Luna.
Mother’s holding Bobby’s hand as they ride up to the second floor. Mother is not happy, her daughter has disappeared. Again. She’d call once more, except she does not want to cause a scene in Nordstroms. This is their third trip from first floor to the fourth and then down again, waiting for Grandmother to finish her shopping in foundations. Grandmother is very picky when it comes to her drawers, and likes to take her time. As if anyone would ever see them, thinks Mother.
Mother hears snickering behind her and turns to see Little Sally, smirking.
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Here is where to find Friday Fictioneers and read leader Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog. I sent Rochelle this photo taken by Swedish photographer, Ulrika Undén who exhibits her works at INSTAOLOGY, because I knew it would make a perfect prompt for flash fiction.
Click this frog to read all the Fictioneers’ stories…
I remember riding the elevator with my grandmother in Hale’s Department Store in Sacramento in the ’50s, and I think it was the second floor, the operator would call out “Lady’s Wear and Foundations.” I alway’s though it was such a funny word. I wrote another story about ‘foundations’ you can find it here… Foundations Please!
Little Sally, face upturned, stuck out her tongue.
“Mom! I got a snowdrop in my mouth.”
“You mean a snowflake, Sally. That’s what they’re called when it’s snowing, flakes. Now come inside, it’s freezing outside. And, shut the door!”
“Well this must have melted because it’s a drop now.”
Little Sally runs out across the front lawn, twisting and turning, tongue skyward to catch more snowdrops. Mother, not happy, starts to follow. Grandma’s wellies, way too big for her, she slips out falls in the snow and hits her elbow. Mother’s closing in fast.
Sally decides she better start crying.
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WORDLE #166 @ MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie
This week’s Wordle listed 13 words to use in a story. I managed to use 4 words in this 100 word story. Little Sally is always 100 words.
“Hi, Cheryl, it’s me Ethel.”
“Okay, what do you want?”
“Cheryl, why do you always think I want something?”
“Because you always do, Ethel. I can tell by the perky way you say ‘Hi, Cheryl’. So, cut to the chase, what is it?”
“Well be that way, but since you ask, you have a snow shovel don’t you?”
“I do, and so do you. You got one when you worked at Wal-Mart, remember?”
“I can’t find it, I think I let someone borrow it.”
“That’s why I have mine, I don’t lend. Why?”
“My walk, could you shovel it.”
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Some 100 Word Flash Fiction based on the photo of Dale Rogerson’s front yard she sent Rochelle for this week’s story prompt. Do drop by Friday Fictioneers if you want to write a story, and click on the frog to read all the stories, some may feature snow:
Little Sally drug the kitchen chair across the linoleum, spoon in hand. She was positive she had seen a Ben & Jerry’s container when Grandmother had been putting away the groceries. She had been to market, that’s what she called it, market. Mother and everyone else she knew said going to the grocery store.
Little Sally did not like Mother’s new refrigerator. At all. She desperately wanted the old one back. She did like playing with the water thing on the door, and popping out ice cubes. But this freezer was on the top. What was up with that?
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Little Sally has stepped into it now. As those two words escaped her lips she froze. Afraid to look at Mother, she pretended to be busy fixing her doll’s hair, knowing full well the boom was coming. That’s what Grandma called it, ‘Lowering the Boom’. Little Sally didn’t know what the boom was, but it wasn’t good. She had had quite a few time-outs after hearing that.
Mother said, “I think I will fix parsnips tonight.” Little Sally hated parsnips.
In a small voice she said, “I’m sorry Mother.”
Mother just looked at her. Worse than a spanking.
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Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie… Sunday Writing Prompt: “Shut Up”
“Sally! I’m going to paddle your bare bottom if you don’t play fair.”
Little Sally rolled her eyes, which put Mother into even more of a tizzy.
“Don’t you put on an air with me, Sally, give Bobby back that pear right now.”
Bobby and Little Sally had been playing Fruit Stack when Mother saw her sneak one of Bobby’s game pieces.
Little Sally muttered something under her breath like “Such a flair for the dramatic, don’t be so square.”
Bobby heard her and his eyes bugged out big time.
Mother heard her too. “Fruit Stack is over, young lady!!!”
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Here was the challenge posed by weejars
I am not a
poet rhymer, but her words caught my attention, so I hope that Sarah does not mind if I used her words to write a story instead.
Ethel slips past the barricade, with Cheryl hot on her heels.
“Ethel! What the hell are you doing? We aren’t supposed to go in there.”
“Oh silly, you know I like to live dangerously.”
“I think I would say foolishly. And you don’t follow rules!”
Ethel, tired of discussing the matter takes off down the dark hall. “I want to see what they are doing.”
Cheryl catches up as Ethel is peeking around a corner into the lit exhibition hall. She peeks around too. People wearing white gloves are positioning artworks on the wall.
“That’s Andy Warhol. I didn’t know you were a big Warhol fan.”
“I’m not, Cheryl, but I’m a big Marilyn fan. You know that.”
“Oh yes, I remember your blonde phase.”
They didn’t hear the guard behind them.
“Look, there she is!”
If you like Marilyn as much as Ethel and I and happen to be in Chicago, you can see ANDY WARHOL – FROM A TO B AND BACK AGAIN at The Art Institute right now. I wrote this with my friend Aggie Reilly in mind, who lives in Chicago and loves Marilyn too.
Want to take part in the WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT? Write a story or poem with just 136 words, no more no less, and send it to Sammi Cox.