Friday Fictioneers, Father and Son. #flashfiction

PHOTO PROMPT © Alicia Jamtaas

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“Oh, look! An overgrown house!” Billy called.

“Look closer, son,” Dad replied.

“Hmm.” Billy stopped. “It looks small. Was it a
doghouse?”

Dad sat down on his heels. “That’s what they say.”

“Where’s the house for the people?” Billy asked.

“It burned to the ground. Miraculously, the dog’s house didn’t.”

“So, the family didn’t live?” Billy asked.

Dad shook his head.

“And the dog? Maybe he was in the doghouse,” Billy inquired.

“They never found the dog,” Dad answered.

“I think he ran off. I hope he found a new family.” Suddenly, a
bark made Billy jump.  “Let’s go now.”

(c) 2021, by Pamela Schloesser Canepa

 

 

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A New Alliance. #flashfiction

Photo credit: Louise at Storyteller’s Abode

A New Alliance, by Pamela Schloesser Canepa, (c) 2020

She walked over and Henry bristled. “I’m here to be alone,” he said, curtly.

“Oh, I’ll just have a seat. You won’t bite. I can tell. Your body language says it all.” She set down her huge bag and sat, carefully holding her dress down. “You’re definitely overdressed.”

“So are you,” Henry said, realizing he’d been sized up. He moved his equally stuffed bag to the other side.

“How long since you cut yourself loose of your chains?” She asked.

“A year,” Henry replied, smiling. He thought he’d figured her out. “How about you? A pretty young woman, walking the beach, overstuffed bag. Do you sleep here?”

“Do I look crumpled and wrinkly? Of course not. This is how I pass the days. Two years.”

“Sorry, no offense.”

“Okay. Are you free for lunch?” She replied.

“Why not?”

Two years and twenty beaches later, Henry was still wandering the shores with Kaitlynn.

**A repost from my archives, from the challenge hosted by Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2017/05/22/fffaw-challenge-week-of-may-23-2017/

Waking up.#writephoto

Waking Up (c)2020, by Pamela Schloesser Canepa

 

We were pushed out of our homes.

pushed into the night

a sudden awakening

where there had been no light.

Triggered, incited

forced to move on.

It seemed I breathed fresh air

for the first time ever.

Everyone looked on me in scorn

as I rolled down the window

saying Goodbye forever.

I was what they said I should be

But I’m now my own version of me

Grateful for change when they only

saw catastrophe.

 

Stopping by the Highway. #FFfAW. #amwriting

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Jodi McKinney.

The air was crisp and cool, and Mom started the heat.  We had stopped twice already for hot chocolate.  Brent kept complaining about the cold.

“Come back here, Brent,”  I called.

I put my feet up on his legs and he grimaced.  “Oh, they’re not that heavy,” I insisted.  “It’ll warm you up.”  My strained neck leaned on a pillow by the window.  It was a long ride, but soon, we would see snow.

“There are snowflakes on the windshield!” Mom exclaimed.

We gazed out the window.

“I wanna make a snowball!”  Brent shouted.  Small patches had gathered.

We stopped on the shoulder and got out.  Brent collected a handful of mostly dirt and threw it at me.  Mom sighed.

What else could I do but collect my own and throw it back?  He giggled.

“Okay, you’ve had your first snowball fight.  Time to go,” Mom instructed.   “There will be enough for a snowman where we’re going.”  (approx. 163 words)

**Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers provides a weekly prompt for inspiration.  Writers must create a story of 100-150 words, give or take 25.

 

 

 

Bridging the Transition. #FridayFictioneers #FlashFiction

PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn M. Miller

Desmond starting signing the song, “Bridge over troubled water.”

“I hate bridges,” Chastity interrupted.

“It’s getting us to the other side.  Be thankful.  What if you were alone when that old car broke down?  Out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Just know, Desmond, when we get to civilization, we go our separate ways. I didn’t leave John just to be harnessed to another guy.”

“You are quite progressive for 1972.”

“Better late than never,” she mumbled, missing his point.

Desmond had no tricks up his sleeve.  Is that why she enlisted his help?  He braced himself for goodbye.

~98 words (story only)

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly prompt challenged presented at rochellewisoff.com

I encourage you to visit and read other responses.  Consider joining the fun!

 

 

Roam. Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers.

This week’s photo credit goes to Jodi McKinney.

At dawn, she felt freer than ever.  The dew would dampen her hair, and her spirit could soar.  It had been this way since her youth.

This place was always her home, the one she hoped to return to again and again.  Now, she had done her time and run her race.  Given the world all that she could.

Her babies had grown and didn’t need her anymore.  Though she couldn’t run through the fields as she used to, she’d sit and imagine the blades of grass crunching beneath her as she ran.

Here she would retire, an old gray mare, but here, she felt the most beautiful of all, because here, her spirit could soar.

**Find out more about this weekly photo prompt challenge at Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers

 

The Scene. #FFfAW #flashfiction

Thank you, Yinglan for the photo prompt!

The Scene, (c) 2018 by Pamela Schloesser Canepa

“No, young lady, you must move to the right an inch.  Like so.”

The woman kindly obeys.

“So, I’m just looking down admiringly, right?”  The other man, Yung, inquires.

“Yes.  At her shoes, or feet.  Whichever.”

The young woman, Clara, looks around her, then shudders.

Yung looks at his watch.  “Soon.”

“Nice work, stay still.  Everything should be just as I saw. ”

Yung could not stop blinking, yet he didn’t want to miss a thing.  Was this man, this stranger, the soothsayer he claimed to be?  He showed up and claimed Yung’s wife was in danger.

“Now, Clara, on the count of three, kneel down.”

Quietly, she watched him mouth 3, 2, 1…then knelt as a shotgun blast from the street rang through the quiet store.

The bullet hit the glass case behind Clara.  Papers told of an assassination attempt on the political actress and her husband.  Samuel knew it was just a random drive-by.  No one could question Samuel.  He disappeared somewhere in Europe the next day.

~174 words

**The challenge is to take a photo prompt and respond with a flash fiction story of 100-150 words, +/- 25 words.  Please visit and follow https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/ to receive the weekly photo prompt and/or view other flash fiction responses!

 

Escape Hatch. #FridayFictioneers

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Have you ever wanted to get away?  Your stepdad is too bullish, your mom never comes home,  your family just hates you…

Our neighbor, Mr. Stevenson was in our house cleaning the carpet.  He told me to look out at his roof.  “When you see a bluebird on the windowsill, jump to that roof and slide down.  There will be a truck below, no, wait…you will slide into a magical jungle underneath.”

“You’re full of it,” I said, heading out of the room to play video games in the basement.

He shrugged.  “How do you think I keep on smiling?”

~100 words

Find the weekly prompt, instructions, and other prompt entries at: Friday Fictioneers, 7/20/18

In and Out of Sync. #FFfAW #FlashFiction

Photo credit @wildverbs

Jody would not take his young eyes off of the sky.  Birds were flying in perfect sync.

“Birds are very intelligent,” Jody said, squinting.  He was quite a prodigy himself.  “I don’t know how they learn to fly so perfectly in sync with each other.”

“Amazing, huh?”  I chuckled.

Just then, one of them squawked.  Severals others called back.  “They’re talking to each other,” Jody cried excitedly.

Speechless, I stared at the sky.

“He said there’s a fire.  The leader, he said….”

From the east there appeared a dark column of smoke.  Did Jody actually see that before me, or was he right about these darn birds?

“We have to go back, Jody.  The birds will be alright.”

“I know,” he replied with his head down, turning with me to head home.

~131 words

Visit Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers for more responses and to view the rules for the weekly writing challenge!

Adapting. #amwriting #FlashfictionforAspiringWriters

Photo credit, @yarnspinnerr.  Thanks for the image prompt!

“Adapting”, (c) 2017, Pamela Schloesser Canepa

Katarina Jenkins sat the plate down.  She had eaten the meat and left what looked like bones.  She was still unsure what kind of meat it was.

Still, any food was a plus right now.  The ship carrying her mother, father, and her had been smashed against the rocks.  She arrived alone at this island full of purple people, wary, fearful, and starved, her parents carried away on the waves.

These people were nice enough to offer her food.  Now, they stared with eager eyes, and one of them pushed the plate back toward her.  Am I supposed to eat the bones too?  Who are these people?  Where is home?

Another, painted with war stripes like a leader or hero, pushed the plate away gently.  Thank God.

Instead, he offered a seashell full of  purple moosh, pointing at it, then motioning to spread it on her face.

Gladly, Katarina accepted.

*150 words

Each week, a photo prompt is posted at Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers with a challenge to write a flash-fiction story within the parameters.  

For a variety of responses to this week’s photo prompt and/or the rules of the writing challenge, visit https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2017/12/11/fffaw-challenge-week-of-december-12-2017/