“I need you to call Rick!!!”
“Ethel, what’s wrong?”
“My car broke, I’m on the expressway.”
“Oh no!” How are you calling me?”
“A man stopped and I’m using his phone. We put the hood up but can’t see anything wrong, that’s why I need Rick.”
“Of course you can’t, I’m surprised you got the hood up.”
“The man did it.”
“I told you not to drive on the expressways, now look where you are.”
“I know where I am, Smarty, on the Kennedy at Damen, now call Rick and have him come save me.”
“Okay, stay where you are.”
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Always fun to see one of my photos used for the prompt at FridayFictioneers. Be sure to check out all the stories prompted by this old Chevy, which was left derelict in the woods many years ago near my daughter’s house on San Juan Island. My story was #79. You can find all the other stories here.
“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.