“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.
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.
‘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.
FOLIAGE… a Drabble for FriFic
A telephone rings in Wicker Park…
“I’m pissed, Cheryl.”
“Well helloooo to you too. What’s up now?”
“You know the pretty foliage I like to look at? They’re cutting it down!”
“You got me. Where?”
“Outside my kitchen window!!!”
“That ratty ivy next door? I wouldn’t call that ‘foliage’, Ethel. Why?”
“They’re going to paint the bricks!”
“But, Cheryl, paint? I complained to the painters, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“For crying out loud, Ethel, that’s not who you talk too.”
“I was told ‘time marches on, lady’, so rude! It’ll be ugly.”
“How ’bout getting a window shade?”
“I should have called Betty! Good-bye!!!”
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Loved this week’s photo prompt, by Roger Bulltot, of the Renwick Ruins on Roosevelt Island. Originally a smallpox hospital built in 1856 and claimed to be the most haunted spot in NYC. You can read such a story right here… Tour Guide at Roosevelt Island.
(I trimmed Roger’s photo a bit since brownstones in Chicago don’t have lawns that large)
BOXES! … a drabble for Fri Flic
The light is blinking on an answering machine in a Chicago third floor walk up.
Click… ‘It’s me Ethel, call me!’
“What’s up now, Ethel?”
“Get over here right away, Cheryl!”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down, what’s the rush?”
“Boxes, Cheryl, boxes full of food.”
“Oh for crying out loud! I’ll be right over.”
It’s times like this that Cheryl wished they didn’t live so close. Ethel had recently gotten an iPhone and was going crazy ordering things on Amazon. ‘Boxes of food?’
“Thanks for coming, what am I going to do, they’ll spoil.”
“Better put your Blue Apron on, Ethel.”
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Get Off The Pot! A drabble for Friday Fictioneers
‘What is taking her so damn long?’, thought Ethyl. She had to pee and was dying for a cigarette, having just taken up smoking recently. “Cheryl, hurry up!!!”
“Hold your horses, Ethel.”
Ethel was tired of holding her horses. And there it was again, those tones, very faint, so familiar. Just then it dawned on Ethel. “Dammit, Cheryl, I know what you’re doing. You are sitting there playing Trivia Crack on your phone with Frances while I have to pee!!!”
“I’m doing no such thing!”
“I can hear the frigging wheel go round”
“I’m… dammit!!! Now look what you’ve done!”
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A JUKEBOX AT EVERY TABLE… a Drabble for FriFic
A telephone rings on the Northside of Chicago…
“Hi, Cheryl, it’s Ethel.”
“It’s December 21st, I assume you want me to help you with your Christmas decorations again. Why can’t you do them early like everybody else? I’ve still got shopping to do.”
“No, no, I’m done with them. I’ve got a hankering for a chili dog, and there’s a new place in Cicero I want to try.”
“For God’s sake, Ethel, just go to the Devil Dog on the corner. You know how far Cicero is, right?”
“Yes, but this place has a jukebox at every table. And, there’s a WalMart next door.”
“Oh… okay, I’ll go.”
Roger Bultot’s photo reminded me of fun times and good eats in the past and prompted the girls to take a trip. Thanks to Rochelle for prompting me to write a story.