“Don’t give me that look.”
“That brow look.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your brow is furrowed and that upsets me.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t do things that cause me to furrow.”
“Right, my bad.”
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Want to take part in the WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT? Write a story or poem with just 40 words and send it to Sammi Cox.
Yes, the girls are back. Who else?
Jason rose from the bench, his teaching finished for the day. Bemused, he watches as she packs her sheet music in her bag and retrieves her cellphone; she is his least favorite pupil. Cara’s not a bad player, she works hard, and she’s better than most of his other students. It is the stench of patchouli oil that puts her in that category, so he holds his breath as much as he can while he watches her play the piano, giving advice from time to time. “See you next week, Mr. J.” “Next week, Cara, don’t forget to practice.”
The following week something is different. Same flowery sundress, same patchouli oil, same banging the keys, then it hits him. The hourglass has sand in it. “Cara, you have sand!” “I know, Mr. J, do you like it? I’m so glad you noticed.” How could he not, the tiny hourglass on the webbing between her thumb and index finger now contained sand, canary yellow sand to be precise. “Do you love it?” “I do, your hourglass has a purpose now.” “Time marches on, Mr. J.” As she packs her bag, Jason hands her a small gift box. “A little something from us to reward you for the time you have spent practicing and learning the piano. Open it when you get home.”
At her next lesson a delicate floral scent follows Cara to the bench. “Thank you so much, Mr. J, I love my gift. I thought it was time for a change too,” a knowing smile on her face, as she begins to play.
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Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie posed a challenge for their “5 by 5” Sunday Writing Prompt. Write a story or poem using one of five words in each of the following categories… a piece of furniture, a scent, a color, a shape, and an item carried in the pocket, wallet, or purse.
Ainsworth’s is the last of the old line department stores in Chicago.
One cannot blame the young man in the green blazer for looking perplexed when Ethel, upon stepping into the elevator, asks for ‘foundations’.
“Oh for God’s sake, Ethel, just say girdles! Foundations is what our grandmothers called them.”
In a whisper, “I didn’t want to say it out loud, Cheryl.”
“He’s going to think you want to go down. I’m pretty sure we need to go up.”
“Okay! Girdles please young man.”
“Ladies Undergarments, Fourth Floor, right away Madam.”
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Want to take part in the WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT? Write a story or poem with just 91 words and send it to Sammi Cox.
Send in the Clowns… 100 Words for FriFicSend in the clowns…
“Hey Cheryl it’s Ethel guess what?”
“Hi Ethel, what’s got you so excited today?”
“Guess what’s at the United Center?”
“OK, I’m waiting to guess, what is it!”
“You know I hate circuses!”
“But all the acts, the animals, the clowns are so exciting!”
“Especially the clowns, I don’t like clowns.”
“But these are special ones, the’re Okies, and they have red noses.”
‘Don’t all clowns have red noses? And what are okie clowns?”
“They’re clowns from the Ozarks.“
“Oh for God’s sake Ethel, Okies are from Oklahoma. Hey!!! Aren’t we supposed to be talking about Dale’s waterfalls today?”
With apologies to two of my favorite writers from the Ozarks.
Nikki stood looking at the tree stump for a very long time. Finally she turned and walked back to where we were standing, shaking her head.
Nikki sees things other people don’t see. When I asked her what she had seen she said, “I don’t know, but she was pretty.” I’ve learned to leave it at that and not ask questions.
We went and looked at the tree stump, but didn’t see anything. Didn’t hear anything either.
It was getting dark so we found Nikki and left.
Photo Prompt Artwork by Ingrid Endel ~ Thank you to Nekneeraj for the invitation to write.
Here’s a story I always liked…
“OF COURSE NOT, SILLY!”
“Until the day I die, I’ll never forget those glassy, unblinking eyes.” Her last words. She has been in a catatonic state since that day.
Elizabeth Grace had been a promising designer, and her sudden decline had been most disturbing to friends and colleagues.
After graduation, she had taken a position at Albrecht’s Department Store, as an assistant window dresser. She fared well under the tutelage of Miss Bethany, and advanced to first assistant in just months. Feathers had been ruffled.
It was just after Albrecht’s shipment of new mannequins arrived that it began. Elizabeth started talking to the old ones. People noticed. She had not done that before.
Hammered by younger hipper stores and internet shopping, Albrecht’s Department Store had been in decline for years, something had to be done. When Oswalt Albrecht III came on board, all department heads had been instructed to find…
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I do not reblog a lot of writer’s work, but I am so loving my friend Björn’s poem I wanted to share it.
The late Mrs. Emel Mackenzie
always came early to better
be able to notice
the lateness of others,
and hence at her funeral
the pews had started to fill
an hour before
the service had started,
but when she safely was buried —
A second Quadrille for Kim at dVerse.
October 22, 2018
‘He felt just a little more intoxicated than he’d planned.’… Excerpt from Police Report #YW384 9/4/18
Really? Bullshit! You never plan to get ‘intoxicated’, you always plan to get stinking drunk. Those cops must have had a good laugh over that one.
Local Florist Reports Break In… In the early morning hours someone forced open the rear door of Robin’s Floral Chateau, gaining unauthorized entry. According to the report Robin gave the police, they only took one bouquet. “The funny thing is, they left a handful of quarters on the counter,” she said, “can you fingerprint quarters?” Police are examining the surveillance camera from the nightclub next door. The Online Journal 9/4/18
It will be fun to see how that jerk delivers the flowers, I know who they’re for. Better not be in person either, he was so pissed when I got the restraining order, but he scares me now. So loving at first then the drinking started, I’d never been with a man before, it was different, exciting, forbidden fruit I guess. The guys at The Ramrod warned me, I didn’t want to hear it. Those flowers had better be for me.
Trail Of Petals Leads To Flower Bandit… “After reviewing the surveillance tapes from The Ramrod, we determined that Mr. Kite, known to the bar, was the culprit. Upon arriving at his residence, we noticed suspicious petals on the front seat of his vehicle. Mr. Kite admitted to the theft but could not explain the whereabouts of the floral arrangement. I booked him on breaking and entering and a DUI charge,” stated Sargent Lowe. The Online Journal 9/4/18
Still no flowers, after posting his bail, no flowers. Asshole!
I haven’t done a flash fiction forYeahWrite in ages. I thought it would be fun when I saw the prompt, this is what came out. Here are the instructions:
The first prompt is a mandatory opening sentence. This must be the first line of your story. The line, from YeahWrite #384 fiction|poetry winner Marcus Gustafson, is: He felt just a little more intoxicated than he’d planned.
The second prompt is the Narrator’s Point of View. The Narrator, from the YeahWrite editors, is: the main character’s ex.
Going Green… a Drabble for FriFic…A telephone rings in Chicago…
“Hi, Cheryl. Guess what, I’m going green.”
“Yep, I’m turning over a new leaf, no pun intended. I’m a recycler now.”
“Oh really? How long have you been green?”
“Three days. I’m building a compost pit too and need some help digging. I’ll need some worms.”
“Wait a minute. I’m not touching any worms, and what do they have to do with going green?”
“Less stuff in the landfill, the worms eat the stuff you put in the pit and make fertilizer or something like that.”
“Ethel, you have one planter box in your window.”
“I know, exciting huh?”
This story is dedicated to my sister Mariya…