The Virtue of Silence
“Hi Cheryl, guess what?”
“I’m taking the vow of silence!”
“You’re becoming a nun?”
“No, silly, I’m not going to talk for a day.”
“Wow, that’s one big vow of silence, Ethel. I’m afraid to ask, what prompted this?”
“You remember my interest in meditation?”
“Right, Betty got you onto that. It still bugs me that you won’t tell me your mantra.”
“The Maharishi says ‘to speak your mantra aloud is like pulling a plant from its roots’.”
“A vow of silence is another form of meditation.”
“Well Ethel, it will be a sweet twenty-four hours.
Another 100 Words with the girls. This time for Sunday Writing “It’s all in the title.” by Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. They asked for a poem or story using one of the 10 titles they offered. I chose ‘The Virtue of Silence”
“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.
‘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.
THE REMODEL… Six Sentence Stories
She had telephoned full of excitement, the work finally finished, the long wait over, her complaining turned to exuberance, and Cheryl was on her way over to see Ethel’s new kitchen remodel.
Cheryl was determined to be supportive, no matter what, in spite of Ethel’s half-baked decorating ideas.
“Ta da, what do you think?”
Can lights in the ceiling illuminated black lacquered cabinets with polished brass handles, highlighting opalescence tile walls, floor and sweeping counter tops.
Gasping, Cheryl took a step back, leaned against the door jamb for support, and asked her friend what she was seeing.
“Marble, Cheryl, marble.”
This week’s cue is MARBLE
NO SHOE PRINTS?
“So what were they doing again?” asked the Sergeant.
“They were running around.”
“Running around. Naked, you say?”
“Yes, running around naked!”
“So, they didn’t have any clothes on then?”
“No, they didn’t have any fucking clothes on, they were naked!”
“Sergeant, we’ve finished checking the area and judging by the footprints in the garden there may be as many as six trespassers.”
“Based on the different shoe patterns?”
“No sir, no shoe prints, just bare feet prints.”
“So no shoes then?”
“Oh for fucking Christ! I told you they were naked!!!”
“Oh right, you did. We’ll look into it.”
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This is one I wrote based on the artwork above for another writing group I was in and have not been able to find who made the image. I would love to know who did it so I could give proper credit, but as soon as I saw it the story seemed to write itself.
It is a take off on Salvador Dali’s famous work.
Walter took the stage to perform the deadliest feat of his career… The Wall of Water!
The audience gasped as he started to drown, but the ring of his bedside alarm saved him.
Yesterday I came across this story written last July. I was in the mountains and was not able to publish by the Trifextra deadline due to spotty internet. I was ticked, since I thought this was a good one. I decided to let it see the light of day and add to The Trifectra Writing Challenge, even thought it is a little late. Maybe they won’t notice it’s not following this week’s prompt.
The illustration is a still from the 1953 film ‘Houdini’, starring Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh.
IT’S BEEN 1 YEAR SINCE I WROTE MY FIRST FICTION PIECE… HERE IT IS…
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“Coffee, Tea or Me?”
Oh God, Renee’s in her stewardess mode again. She should know by now I don’t like to play “Fly Me to the Moon”.
“Come on, let’s get you undressed Mr. Grumpy-face”.
Ooh… watch it with the arm, bitch. Why can’t Jan do this? I hate Renee’s baths, she gets the water too cold, and leaves me sitting too long.
“Big day today, sweetheart. Do you want to wear the blue shirt or the tan one.”
Why does she always ask me? I don’t even remember what blue looks like.
“Okay then, the blue one.”
Big thanks to Rich Voza for taking this week’s Photo Prompt for the Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Flash Fiction.
If you want to join in with your some of own writing, see Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple