A Couple of Live Ones

Integraton, Landers, California

Integraton, Landers, California

“Names please?”

“Hanson. Bob and Betty Hanson.”

The receptionist squinted at her monitor and then looked up. “From Duluth?”

“Right, that’s us.”

“How lovely. May I have your credit card please?”

Betty fumbled in her carry-on for the Visa. The receptionist swiped it and swiveled the monitor around. “I’ll just need your PIN.”

Bob and Betty shared a look. “But I–” Bob said.

“It’s customary,” the receptionist interrupted smoothly. “You want the treatment, right?”

Bob grumbled and entered the number.

“You’re all set then. You’ll want to disrobe in the changing area. Leave all your clothes and personal items in the baskets. Then, proceed down the curved hallway to the chamber. Once inside, lie down and put your blindfold in place.”

Betty shouldered her bag and the pair toddled down the hallway. As the changing door closed, the receptionist hit the intercom. “Got a couple of live ones for you, Benny.”

This has been an edition of What Pegman Saw. To read more flash fiction inspired by the location or to submit your own, click the blue froggy button.

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The Three Bears

Sunday Photo Fiction

Sunday Photo Fiction

“I won’t, Mummy.”

“Darling, please. We can’t. Not today. Mummy doesn’t get paid til Friday.”

“If I can’t have it I’ll scream. I’ll know you don’t love me.”

“Oh, precious. Mummy loves you very much. Look, we’re getting the bear.” She flipped the tag to check the price and handed it to the boy. He hugged it close and pressed his face into the fluffy white fur.

It would be fine, she supposed, smiling. There was a bone of beef in the freezer to make a broth. She could stop at the market for carrots and peas and perhaps some barley. And flour for bread. Her stomach lapped at the thought. Belly-filling meals for the pair of them for the next five days, if not hearty ones.

The boy looked up. “White bear says she wants the tan one,” he said. “She told me.”

She eyed the price tag. “Very well then.” There would be soup, but no bread, she decided.

He wrapped his arms around both bears and squeezed. She turned to go.

“But Mummy! I want the brown one too.”

She let out an exasperated sigh and tightened her stomach. “Very well then.”

There would be broth.

199 words

To read more flash fiction inspired by the prompt or to submit your own, click the blue froggy button:


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This has been an edition of Sunday Photo Fiction, hosted by the gracious Al Forbes. Al has been generous enough to host this weekly 200 word fiction challenge in spite of ongoing health issues. He’s now asking for participants to submit pictures of their own in order to continue the challenge.

Al, Thanks for your generosity. I love the luxury of 200 words and the chance to share stories with this lovely group. Look for photos coming your way!

 

This Forgotten Place

Google Street View of Burhhanpur

Google Street View of Burhhanpur

 

Eat, pray, love, my ass. I’d picked up Delhi belly in Kochi that had taken me until Mombai to shake. I’d been infested by some water-borne parasite doing sunrise puja at Surat. The handsome Brit I’d met in Ahmedabad had stolen my passport and wallet, and I’d spent eight days waiting at the embassy.

By now, there was nothing left to lose. Even my sandal had given out on the walk from the main road. Every possession I had left fit into one canvas bag that I had slung over a shoulder.

I’d been ‘looking for something’, a thought that made me laugh now. There was nothing to find in this forgotten place—just one more thing to check off a bucket list that no one followed.

I padded to the open-air window and looked out past the river, and squinted at the rising sun.

And realized, finally, what I’d found.

..

This has been an edition of What Pegman Saw.

To enjoy stories inspired by the What Pegman Saw prompt or to submit your own 150-word story, visit the inLinkz button:

For guidelines and rules for the What Pegman Saw weekly writing prompt, visit the home page.

The Miller’s Turn

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

They say he milled diamonds from stone, but I never saw it. The river had run dry for an age by the time I came upon the mill.

The old woman stood in the doorway, one gnarled hand blooming atop her cane. She nodded at the thing. “It’s yours now.”

I moved closer, ran one hand along the beam, the wood worn to a sinew of grain, the stone beneath it polished smooth. I looked back at her. “I can’t see getting a diamond from that.”

She laughed, crackling and smoky. “And you won’t, son. Not unless you turn.”

99 words

This has been an edition of the Friday Fictioneers, hosted by the gracious and talented Rochelle. This week’s photo courtesy the amazing Sandra Crook. To read more flash fiction inspired by the prompt, or to submit your own, click the blue froggy button:

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She Left Edinburgh a Widow

2016-12-26

No one could say what happened at the flat on Giles. Not the neighbors who heard her sobs at night. Not the postman who saw the bruise at her throat. Not the boy in the flat below who felt the ceiling shake with the blows. Not the ladies who smelled the whiskey on his breath seven days a week as he staggered past their shop. Those days a man did what he pleased with his wife. People kept quiet.

And when that day came when he stumbled up drunk to the rooftop, past the locked gate and through the bolted door, and then managed to pitch head-first over the wall nearly as tall as he, well the people kept quiet about that too.

She left Edinburgh a widow.

128 words.

This has been an edition of What Pegman Saw, a flash fiction prompt inspired by Google Maps. To read more flash fiction inspired by a tour of the location prompt or to submit your own, click the blue froggy button:

If you’re wondering where I got the inspiration, click on the photo prompt and look down. This was one of those crazy discoveries on Google Street view. For more, visit

80 funny, creepy, strange, disturbing Google Street View Images

I must confess I had a hard time with this one. I was ready to dispense of the thing with a five-word unpublished story, but my dear husband was having none of that.

I gotta quit killing off my characters.

PS If the inlinks code isn’t working, try copying and pasting this:

<a href="http://www.inlinkz.com/new/view.php?id=686669" rel="nofollow"><img src="https://www.inlinkz.com/img/wp/wpImg.png" /></a>

You Can Get it Yourself

Google Streetview of Gulfoss Waterfall

Google Streetview of Gulfoss Waterfall

“It’s a $3,500 camera Stu.” The woman stood on the mossy outcropping, her back to the roaring falls and stomped her foot.

“I told you we shouldn’t climb the railing,” he said, his voice quavering.

“Well, you wanted to get a good shot, didn’t you?” Without waiting for a response, she plucked her way down the grassy path, down to the sheer cliff at the edge. She looked out over the falls.

He followed her the entire way, always a few paces behind, head down. As he reached her, she looked back at him. “Now we’ll have nothing to remember this with.”

“We’ll remember it.”

She turned around. “It’s a $3,500 camera Stu. You’re so worthless.”

For a moment, he watched his toe sweep sided to side on the skim of tiny gravel on the granite. He looked up. “I have an idea then. You can get it yourself.”

==

150 words

This has been an edition of What Pegman Saw, a Google Maps inspired flash fiction prompt. To read more flash fiction or to submit your own. click the blue froggy button:

This week’s location was suggested by gifted writer and photographer Graham over at grahamisjustmyname.com. Graham, I have to confess that I had WAY MORE fun writing this one than anyone should. It was quite cathartic throwing that shrill woman off the cliff.

I wonder if she’s me?

PS

To anyone who has been kind enough to read and comment on my stories here lately, THANK YOU SO MUCH. I have been buried with a big project at work and putting in extra hours and have little time to reciprocate. Trying to catch up!

Have a Merry Merry and a Happy Happy of whatever it is that you like to celebrate. Wishing everyone peace, prosperity and happiness in the New Year.

Oh, and fuck you 2016.

PPS

I hope that woman was 2016.

What Would You Change About Me?

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

“That’s not how the game is played. You have to answer the question.” She sat back and clattered her freshly manicured nails on the Formica table.

He shifted on the seat and instead watched the steam rise from his coffee. “I don’t want to play.”

“Come on. It’ll be fun.”

He looked up. Her lipstick was smeared and the wrong color for her, she was wearing his shirt again. She’d ruined his favorite last week. Her side of the table was littered with torn sugar packets and a mosaic of  leftover breakfast.

“Okay fine. I’d change everything about you.”

This has been an addition of the Friday Fictioneers, hosted by the kind and generous Rochelle. To read more flash fiction or to submit your own, click the blue froggy button.

Thanks to all who stop by, and a big special thanks to Rochelle for all the writers who participated in the What Pegman Saw Google Maps prompt this week. There’ll be a new one posting at midnight Friday.

It Starts With a Breath

Sunday Photo Fiction

Sunday Photo Fiction

“That’s all there is to it. You take a deep breath and visualize.”

“I fail to see how visualizing will help.”

She leaned against her locker and looked up to meet his eyes. “Lots of people do it.”

“Lots of people visualize meeting girls?”

“Well maybe not that. But people use visualization all the time. Like athletes, and… people in the Oprah Book Club.”

Tyler rolled his eyes. “What exactly am I supposed to visualize?”

“Visualize yourself being confident. Visualize the girl responding in a positive way.”

He stared at his feet and butted his toe against the baseboard. “You mean like girls actually speaking to me, and not running away screaming?”

“You’re too hard on yourself, Tyler. You’re a nice guy. Any girl would be lucky to go out with you.”

He went to speak but choked on the words. He cleared his throat, took a deep breath and tried again. “Any girl like you?”

This has been an edition of the Sunday Photo Fiction Prompt, hosted by the generous Al Forbes. To read more fiction or to submit your own, click the blue froggy button.


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Population 0

Bonaparte

Bonaparte

“These farm towns always have the best restaurants,” he’d said.

It had seemed like a refreshing break from the freeway. All she’d wanted back then was an open-face sandwich like her gran used to make. But so far, they hadn’t found so much as an open gas station. The gas gauge hung an eyelash over empty.

“Maybe we should ask for directions.”

His jaw thrust out.  “I’m not lost.”

“No, I know you’re not. It’s just that—hey look, an antique shop.”

“Thought you were hungry,” he said.

She was hungry to see another living soul. “Just park,” she said.

As she walked up the quiet street, under the sagging awnings, to peer in the filthy window of the vacant shop, she started to realize: there was no one to ask. She turned around and noticed the film of dust layered on all the parked cars. “Does something seem wrong to you?”

This has been an edition of What Pegman Saw, a new weekly 150-word fiction prompt based on Google Maps. To read more or to submit your own, click the froggy button:

 

You never see it coming

182-11-november-20th-2016

It happens on a Sunday. You slept late and you’re just getting up, reaching for that first cup of coffee and then you see the flash reflected on the cabinets—and as you turn around, you’re trying to remember if there was supposed to be a storm—but then you hear a boom so loud and crack it’s the last thing you’ll never hear again and just then you feel the great and terrible wave of it bone-thrumming-through you, and every other living thing and dead and just as—

This has been an edition of the Sunday Photo Fiction Prompt, hosted by Al Forbes. To read more flash fiction or to submit your own, click the blue froggy button:

Now a confession: this was actually a piece I wrote over the summer while attending Anthony Varallo’s 500-Word Story workshop at the Iowa Summer Writing Festival. It was the first thing I thought of when I saw the prompt. The piece is a little experimental, what with the second person and the use of a run on sentence that turns into train of thought, but I was inspired after reading the many superior examples in Micro Fiction: An Anthology of Fifty Really Short Stories (a book I highly recommend for the flash fiction lover in your life).

Apologize for the rerun to anyone who reads my blog the person who reads my blog. I’m trying to limit my blogging time in order to finish my novel The Kwan Factor. I’ve got an editor lined up in early 2017 (the amazing Kelly Dwyer!) and need to wrap it up before the end of December. Much to do!

Anyway, all best my lovelies. Thanks for stopping by and have a cozy holiday season.