A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in Sammi’s Comment Section.
My husband and I raised our purple canopy for the weekly farmer’s market. A breeze cooled my back. “At least it’s not as hot as last Tuesday.
Jan mopped sweat from his eyes. “Still warm and windy, though. Wish we’d brought weights to hold this thing down.”
Then, he stood back and admired our handiwork—gridwalls loaded with framed works, tables full of books, notecards, and prints. “Nicest setup here.”
Perching on my purple chair, I posted pictures and greetings to Facebook and awaited prospective customers. Suddenly a strong gust upended my tent. How quickly triumph can turn to tragedy.
To my honey who puts his heart and soul into the setup to make me look good. Note the gridwall. Some of those frames bit the dust, but the artwork is intact.
Moments before disaster struck.
We still carried on without shade. Next week will be better, right? New tent in transit. Plan B in progress. 😀
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
Avraham set the seedling in the hole he had dug. “Blessed are You, Master of the Universe, Creator of life. May the memories of my Sarah and our little Isaac be blessed.”
Hannah helped Avraham cover the tender roots with sandy soil. “May the memory of my Shmuel also be blessed.”
Under Israel’s hot summer sun many others had come to plant. Their goal was to raise six million trees, one for each life taken.”
Avraham placed his hand on Hannah’s belly and smiled through his tears when their unborn child kicked. “By their deaths, they commanded us to live.”
The six million trees, planted in 1951 by Jewish National Fund, World B’nai Brith and immigrants, are a living monument of eternally green memorial candles for the six million of our people who perished during World War II.
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
I came upon Noah and his crude cabin quite by accident while hiking in the Adirondacks back in 1938. Hospitable fella. Self-proclaimed mayor of Cold River City. Population: one.
“I left home as a youngster.” He puffed on his pipe. “I had my fill of American industrial slavery and highway carnage.”
“Don’tcha miss people?” I asked.
“Not much. I got my little garden. Fish in summer, venison in winter. An elegant sufficiency.”
In 1967 I read in the newspaper of Noah John Rondeau’s passing at the age of eighty-four in a hospital room. Not exactly the sendoff he’d hoped for.
A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in Sammi’s comment section.
BEFORE WE WENT THERE
“I bet I can make this one reach the stars.” Eight-year-old Alan spun the propeller of his latest model airplane. “Maybe it’ll even fly across the whole galaxy.”
“Aw, you’re goofy.” Bobby caught a firefly and dropped it into a fruit jar. “It’s just a toy.”
Alan dropped down on the ground. Cool grass tickled his neck. He gazed at the stars in the dark summer sky. “Someday. You wait and see. I’m going to fly clear to outer space.”
“Say hello to the little green men for me when you do.”
Alan Shepard was the first American to travel to outer space in May 1961. So began the Space Race.
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
“Tang. NASA sent it to outer space.” Russell stirred orange powder into his water. “Remember the commercials when we were kids? I wanted to be an astronaut like John Glenn.”
“Just like I remember. Fortified with vitamin C and full of sugar.” Rochelle raised her glass. “To William A. Mitchell, the Montana farm boy who grew up to be a food chemist and invented not only Tang, but Cool Whip and Pop Rocks as well.”
“A toast to our maven of trivia,” Russell took a sip and grimaced. “Blecch! Gimme a beer instead. To quote astronaut Buzz Aldrin, ‘Tang sucks.’”
A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it inSammi’s Comment Section.
Sidewalk art fairs
A leap outside my comfort zone.
Either ego boosting.
Or ego busting.
Braving iffy weather,
Vendors compete for sales.
Yet bond
Over common aspirations,
Will it end in a joyful crescendo?
Or crushing disappointment?
***
This weekend turned out to be a good one weather-wise. Made some lovely connections and sold a lot of note cards. Getting involved in these vendor events is definitely like a box of chocolates. 😉 Ya never know what you’re gonna get.
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
For as long as I can remember Dad took certain girls under his wing wherever he worked. It’s not like he preyed on young women. He simply saw a need and answered the call.
I accepted them as friends and sisters. One of them still is. She introduced me to her brother. I married him.
“Donna’s daddy passed away when she was a little girl,” said Dad. “She says I’ve filled her dad-shaped void.”
I’ll never forget the devastating phone call in the middle of the night. A drunk driver snuffed out seventeen-year-old Donna’s life and shattered my father’s heart.
The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
Millie Levy loved to learn about inventors. Famous or obscure. It didn’t matter.
“I wonder what Alexander Graham Bell would say about the iPhone.” She mused. “Or what Edison would think about LED lights.”
Millie’s brother Eli rolled his eyes. “Who cares?”
“I do. Get this. Maria Beasley invented a barrel-making machine in 1878. And J.F. Glidden was first to patent barbed wire in 1874. He made a fortune off cattle ranchers and farmers.”
Grandma Rachel pointed to the tattooed numbers on her arm. “I wonder what Mr. Glidden would say if he knew how Hitler used his precious invention.”
A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in Sammi’s Comment Section.
The Ruskin Heights tornado claimed 44 lives and injured 531 more on May 20, 1957.
Although I wasn’t quite four, I will never forget the eerie yellow-green sky or thick hush the day a tornado demolished a nearby community.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple 