Bobby and Little Sally are playing in the backyard, it’s been raining something terrible for a week now and this was the first sunny day.
“🎶Ring around the rosy,
A pocket full of posies,
We all fall down! 🎶”
“Sally!!! You didn’t fall down!.”
“I don’t wanna get my dress dirty, Bobby. No one says you have to fall down.”
Enter Mother, who puts something in the birdbath as Bobby and Little Sally start going in a circle agin.
🎶Ring around the… Mother! What’s that water doing there?”
“The sun is finally out, my new Solar Garden Fountain™!”
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Little Sally thought you might like to see Mother’s new birdbath fountain, so she took a photo for you with her new camera.
When I saw this photo of the fountain, by C. E. Ayr , I immediately thought of a photo I have of my father and his siblings gathered around a pond in their backyard in the 30’s. Like everyone else at that time they did not have a ‘pot to piss in’, but they did have a large garden where they grew food and shared with the neighbors. My father is the big one, Emily to his right and Bill, Laura and Gary to the left. There were goldfish in the pond and they are posing for Pops, I imagine.
I have one other photo, I would like to think it was a fountain, with my Uncle Gary, the youngest, maybe he played Ring Around the Rosy with Emily.
Friday Fictioneers’ Stories Here:
Mother’s putting a pie into the oven. Little Sally enters…
“Mother, what big eyes you have.”
“I think it’s grandmother what big eyes you have, Sally.”
“I’m not red riding hood, silly. I mean you, you had big eyes.”
“What are you talking about? And don’t call me silly.”
Little Sally holds out a photograph. Mother stares at the photograph.
“Mommy, why are you crying?”
“Where did you find this, Sally?”
“Sticking out of a poem book grandma has. What kinda picture is that?”
“It’s called a polaroid. First time I met your father, I’m looking at him.”
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The Sunday Muse is weekly photo prompt site for writers, poets, and blogging enthusiasts. Our goal is to keep you inspired and keep you writing.
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I was reading Björn Rudberg’s blog and saw his story, Hardwood Floor, an excellent piece of science fiction. I had not seen The Sunday Muse prompts before and this photo mesmerized me, I had to write a story. Not sure what to do, is it right for Little Sally or maybe Ethel & Cheryl? I thought of Ethel buying a print of one of Margaret Keane’s children and Cheryl being a bitch about it, dismissed that, and from big eyes I had a story. Let me know what you think if you have followed LS. Is there more than meets the eye in this story?
“Sally, when you are done I want you to put those crayolas back in the box and onto the shelf. I won’t pick up after you today, young lady,” said Mother.
“Put those crayolas away, young lady. Okay snooty,” whispered Little Sally.
“What did you say?”
“I said I will be happy to put the crayons away. They’re called crayons.”
“That’s not what it sounded like to me, did you call me snooty?”
“They were croylas in our day, little miss,” from Grandmother.
“Whatever, it’ll be my duty to put the crayolas away then.”
“You are on such thin ice.”
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Fandango’s One-Word Challenge Today’s word is “snooty.”
🎶“Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love” 🎶
“Sally, stop it!”
🎶“Just a… “🎶
“Stop it now!!! Do you even know what you’re singing? Mother are you playing records for Sally again?”
“Sure I know, it’s the king.”
“Elvis, yes. But do you know what a hunk of burning love is?”
“No but I like to sing it, and grandma said that’s what he was.”
“Well he sure was that. Please, try to learn some more verses.”
Little Sally went looking for Grandma.
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Kristiana Reed is a writer and English Teacher and likes to prompt writers. Burning is her March Writing Prompt #1. I thought of Little Sally when I saw it, and her she is in 100 words of flash fiction.
The first record I ever bought was a 45 rpm of Hound Dog. I had just been given a record player, and went to Tower Records, before it became Tower Records, and got it. I had been listening to it on the radio and like everyone else, well maybe not Ed Sullivan, loved Elvis Presley. My father told me to turn it down and go get some more records, I was 13.
The writer desperately struggled to write. The word he was supposed to use was Epoch. Unfortunately Little Sally had never heard of that word.
So, no story.
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Want to take part in the WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT? Write a story or poem with just 27 words, no more no less, and send it to Sammi Cox.
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.
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.
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”