Yes. It’s me again. Double dipping. It seems my first story is only understood by a few. So I decided, by divine right of flash fiction queens, I’d write another. Thank you for understanding. 😉
AUTUMN HOUSE CLEANING
“I’m not a hoarder. I’m sentimental, that’s all.”
True to her words, Carolyn kept a clean, albeit, cluttered house.
“You could eat off my floors.”
“If we could find it.” Megan rolled her eyes as she rummaged through her mother’s kitchen cabinets. “Maybe. But baby bottles? What do you need with these?”
“Mama?” The towheaded toddler in the high chair reached out his arms and whimpered. “Ba-Ba”
Carolyn patted his hand. “Aaron. You’re too big for a bottle. Megan get your baby brother his sippy cup.”
“Mom. Stop!” Megan’s tearful voice startled Carolyn. “Aaron died fifty years ago.”
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.
Before continuing I have to share my happy news. My novel “Last Dance with Annie” is now under contract with literary agent Diane Nine! www.ninespeakers.com
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
COUP D’ETAT 1898
Easter and me’s both six years old. Her daddy owns a shoe shop in Wilmington. He made my Sunday shoes. He’s really nice.
Easter’s funny and she draws real good. Her skin is pretty. It’s as brown as chocolate so she don’t get sunburns like me.
Day before yesterday, Easter’s daddy went to vote in the ‘lection. Someone said white men in red shirts shot him in the street. Easter cried and cried. I cried, too.
Easter, her mama and lotsa other black folks moved away sudden like. I don’t understand why people are so mean. I miss my friend.
For the most part, 2020 art fairs, concerts and festivals around town, large and small, have been cancelled. These cancellations include a few I’d planned to participate in. Heavy sigh. Potential for sales out the window.
However, 2019 wasn’t exactly a great year for us and outdoor fairs. In June, at Corks and Canvas, it took an hour to set up in intermittent rain. Happily the rain stopped. Unhappily it gave way to stifling heat and humidity, coupled by high winds. I spent a lot of time chasing my note cards across the pavement.
Corks & Canvas June 2019
Corks & Canvas June 2019
In September there were two fairs. The first one was Independence Uncorked. One would think my wine glass pictures would go well there, right? Not so much. People seemed more interested in wine than art. To be fair (hee) I did fairly well at that one. The wine note cards were my best sellers.
The next September fair was the annual UNPlaza fair, not to be confused with the Plaza Art Fair held the same weekend. Torrential rains washed out our hopes for decent sales.
This year, You-Know-What washed out hopes for this year’s UNPlaza renamed PeaceWorks KC Local Art Fair. However, the wonderful board of directors at PeaceWorks decided to try something new. A virtual fair! Each artist will have an online booth. There will be video chat rooms to speak with each artist. Artists’ web pages will give attendees an opportunity to shop in the comfort of their own home.
I am excited and nervous at the prospect. Save David Bayard, who’s heading the planning, none of us really knows what to expect. At any rate, it is an opportunity for a broader audience. You don’t have to live in Kansas City to come, browse and buy. 😉
While you’re in the neighborhood click my art tab at the top of the page. Thank you.
The fair goes live Saturday and Sunday, September 26 and 27
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 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.
The sun has long set on Glasgow. My eyes are weary from study and my heart is heavy with longing for you and my sisters.
My mind swirls with new knowledge of the human body. How fearfully and wonderfully made are we. My cup overflows.
Precious Father. Had it not been for your encouragement, becoming a physician would be an impossibility for a wee lass in this man’s world. As God is my witness, it shall not always be so. I promise to do my best to make you proud.
Your loving daughter,
Elsie Maude Inglis
With her many accomplishments, it was difficult to squeeze the magnitude of her influence into 100 words. So I chose a small but important piece of her life. To quote Elsie Inglis
“If I have been able to do anything—whatever I am, whatever I have done—
I owe it all to my Father.”
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 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.
“Oy the pain.” Jonathan Charasuchin would moan when his mother gave boarders his room, relegating him to sleep on dining room chairs.
“Quit your kvetching,” his mother would say. “We need the money.”
His sympathetic father introduced him to opera on the radio and took him to Yiddish theater productions.
The boy fell in love with the stage and dreamed of someday becoming an actor. Diligently he worked on losing his thick Bronx accent, imitating British film stars.
Forty years later, Jonathan Harris delighted Lost in Space fans with quips like “You bobble-headed booby” and “Oh the pain. The pain.”
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.
Once more this prompt took me down Memory Lane. Whether deserved or not, my Aunt Edith was a legend in our house. Hers was my first experience with the death of a loved one.
L’DOR V’DOR*
When I was eight Aunt Edith passed away. My mother’s sister lived in the house behind ours.
Memories. Faded impressions. Passover seders at Grandpa’s. A gold demitasse cup she kept just for me. The prayer book I wish I’d kept. I’ve searched for it online. Out of print.
I still remember my aunt’s attempts to teach me manners. “Ladies say ‘yes’ not ‘yeah.’”
She made an impact.
*From generation to generation.
My mother is the short lady on the left. Aunt Edith is the bride. Sometime in the late 1930’s or early 1940’s.
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 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.
PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
CLICK THE DANCING FROG TO ADD YOUR LINK
Welcome to another week of SUMMER RERUNS. This week the story and prompt are from 14 November 2014. If you were with us that week, feel free to take a break and post your own rerun. 😀
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
FIRST DRAFT
“Can’t you imagine little Harry trying to climb the fig trees?” Ida’s eyes glittered. “He would’ve been three this year.”
“I miss him, too,” Harvey whispered.
Although his heart ached with loss, Harvey still counted his blessings. What could such a vibrant woman possibly see in him, a wheelchair bound invalid thirty years her senior?
“Maybe we’ll have another son. For now we have one hundred twenty acres of prime, undeveloped California land to subdivide.” He brushed a tear from her cheek with a kiss. “What shall we call our little town? Harryville?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Let’s call it Hollywood.”
.
.
.
Daeida Hartell Wilcox Beveridge “The Mother of Hollywood”
CLICK to JOIN!
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple 