Grandma’s Birthday Party

jen

© Jennifer Pendergast

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The table had been set with elegance but was overwhelmed by the rather bizarre lighting appliance hanging from the ceiling.

“Do you really think Grandma will like it?” Karla’s voice carried her doubt.

“You know how the old girl adored the Avant Garde.” Cornelius had been the favored grandchild, so he had made all the arrangements.

“Mom, Dad, and the rest of the family will be arriving soon. Grandma aside, I don’t think they will like it at all.”

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My Personal Ecclesiastes

miles

© Miles Rost

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There is no me. There’s just doing the laundry, paying the rent, riding the bus, going to work, going to school. You know. Nothing that’s important. So here I am feeding coins into the washers and dryers at the laundromat, trying to read a book and realizing that I don’t enjoy it. In fact, I don’t enjoy anything. Not a damn thing. I eat good food. I mean, I live in San Francisco, so there’s a lot of good food. But so what? I’ve considered suicide for a long time. I walk out of the building and into traffic.

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Take Me Out to the Ball Game

royals stadium

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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A ball game’s a ball game even at “The K” in Kansas City.

Jeff scored a hot dog and watered-down beer and relaxed back into his seat. The Royals were playing against the Texas Rangers but that didn’t matter much to him. It was kind of strange to be watching baseball in February, but it was in the low 50s, so he thought a light jacket would do.

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Specter

fox

© Lisa Fox

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The building was old enough to have a fire escape. It was perfect. Now that Brian’s divorce was final, he was free to move back to the heart of old downtown and be nurtured by urban variations. He was so close to finishing that best seller he had always wanted to write. The sum he would be offered for the film rights alone would throw his ex into a spasm. He sat at the keyboard and tried to put his fingers to work. Nothing happened. A mist slowly seeped through the walls. The alluring ghost said, “Perhaps I can help.”

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Feelin’ Groovy

bench

© Roger Bultot

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Used to be called the 59th Street Bridge but that was long ago. Now they call it the Ed Koch Queensboro Bridge, whoever he was. At least one thing didn’t change. Like in the old days, someone painted a heart on this bench. It’s nice to see.

I’ve been walking up and down the Eternity Road a long time, but not seventy years’ worth. Sure I’m almost seventy myself, but how long…since I was forty-five or so? All my friends are dead, but if I go back, I’ll be so old to them. Being a time traveler is a pain.

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Last Exit to Babylon

© Fleur Lind

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Taylor knew she was in a different universe when she was driving on the wrong side of the road.

“It finally worked.” She was grinning and her heart was hopeful. Maybe she’d finally found the way back home.

But crossing the infinity line was only the beginning. She had to find and take the right exit, which meant using the wrong ones to change all history. Getting the Greek civilization off the ground in 1600 BCE, watching the birth of Buddha in 486 BCE, publishing Einstein’s theory of special relativity in 1905.

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The Price of Adventure

stop sign

© Björn Rudberg

“Sign seems a bit kloogie.”

“Maybe we should turn around, Randy.”

“Where’s the adventure in backpacking if you worry about every little sign, Marcia?”

“I’m just saying…”

“Come on. The sun will go down in an hour.” He grinned and then marched forward.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” she muttered and hurried to follow.

Then the world violently flickered around them. “What’s happening.”

“I don’t know. Maybe…”

The flickering stopped and landscape became heavily forested when it had been rocky before.

“Welcome.” There was a man calling to them from ahead. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Written for the Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday writing challenge. The idea is to use the image above as the prompt for creating a piece of flash fiction no more than 100 words long. My word count is 98.

I’m sure this sign is perfectly legit where ever it was taken, but it sure looks odd, especially the “leg” from my point of view in the U.S. Also, the “face” on the sign looks kind of alien. I let that rule my imagination when I crafted my wee tale.

To read other stories based on the prompt, go to InLinkz.com.

The Alchemist’s Orb

orb

© Sandra Crook

“I want my money back.”

“Why, Romano? I sold it to you at a bargain.”

“You’re a cheat, Valentino. The real Alchemist’s Orb should have turned my worthless lead into gold.”

During the argument, a street urchin slipped into Romano’s shop. “Excuse me, Sir. My Mother is sick and we have no food. Can you spare…”

“Out filthy beggar. Get out!”

As the child ran, Valentino knew the Alchemist’s Orb had worked again. Romano’s reputation was one of generosity and kindness but the Orb had changed his outward behavior to match the cold and miserly stone that was his heart.

I wrote this for the Rochelle Wisoff-Fields flash fiction challenge for 15 December 2017. The idea is to use the photo above as the inspiration for crafting a wee tale no more than 100 words long. My word count is 100.

The first thing I thought of when I saw the picture was that the object it depicted looked fake. From there, I thought of something magic and, realizing I had a scant 100 words to play with, told my small story of greed and charity appropriate for this “season of giving.”

To read other stories based on the prompt, go to InLinkz.com.

The New Home

shoes spider webs

© Sarah Potter

After he died, I put Dad’s old shoes in my closet and then forgot about them.

Come Autumn, I decided to clean out my closet and found them again. This time, they weren’t old shoes anymore.

“Grandpa, what’s that?”

My six-year-old granddaughter had caught me about get rid of the infested footwear.

“Just old shoes.”

“They’re filled with spider webs. Do Charlotte’s babies live there?”

I’d shown Mia the movie “Charlotte’s Web” recently. Now I knew what I had to do.

Mia and I found a safe place for them in my shed.

I’m still not getting a pig.

I wrote this for the Rochelle Wisoff-Fields flash fiction writing challenge. The idea is to use the image above as the inspiration for writing a piece of flash fiction no more than 100 words long. My word count is 99.

It is true that after my Dad died in April, I took a pair of his old shoes as a backup pair to the ones I currently wear. It’s also true that recently, I showed my grandchildren the 2006 live action version film version of Charlotte’s Web. The combination of the two, plus the photo, inspired this wee tale.

To read other stories based on the prompt, go to InLinkz.com.

The Minutemen of October

lights of sturgis

© Jan Wayne Fields

“I say we’re gonna get the code real soon. We’re at DEFCON 2. If the Commies run the blockade and the Navy tries to stop ’em, it’ll be nuclear war.

Despite his apparent anxiousness. Air Force Corporal Brandon “Red” Kowalski was still deemed able to man one of the 50 Minuteman missile silos on the Ellsworth Air Force Base complex north of Sturgis, South Dakota.

“President Kennedy won’t risk World War III over this. He’ll figure something else…” SSgt Tyler Lundgren stopped talking when the alarm went off. Lundgren decoded the message. Both men retrieved their individual keys. They were at war.

I wrote this for the Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers writing challenge. The idea is to use the photo above as an inspiration to craft a piece of flash fiction no more than 100 words long. My word count is exactly 100.

When I found out that the image is titled “lights of sturgis,” I looked that up and found out that Sturgis, South Dakota has an annual Parade of Lights. I also found out that “the vast Ellsworth Air Force Base complex, the land north of Sturgis was dotted with 50 Minuteman missile silos. The L5 is 3.5 miles (5.6 km) from the center of the town.”

That led me to think about the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962. Here’s a quote from that article:

“On October 25, the aircraft carrier USS Essex and the destroyer USS Gearing attempted to intercept the Soviet tanker Bucharest as it crossed over the U.S. quarantine of Cuba. The Soviet ship failed to cooperate, but the U.S. Navy restrained itself from forcibly seizing the ship, deeming it unlikely that the tanker was carrying offensive weapons. On October 26, Kennedy learned that work on the missile bases was proceeding without interruption, and ExCom considered authorizing a U.S. invasion of Cuba. The same day, the Soviets transmitted a proposal for ending the crisis: The missile bases would be removed in exchange for a U.S. pledge not to invade Cuba.”

But what if the Navy did try to seize the Bucharest and tensions continued to escalate? The Soviets might not have transmitted their proposal ending the crisis and nuclear war could have been the result.

While all this was happening, I was an eight-year-old boy resting in a hospital in Omaha, Nebraska after having my tonsils taken out. I don’t have a clear memory of Mom or Dad, but much later on, Dad told me that while Mom and I were in the hospital, he and another Air Force airman were manning a missile silo preparing to launch their Minuteman at their designated target. You may or may not know that after receiving the nuclear go codes from the President, each of the two men had to individually insert a key into different locks and turn them simultaneously in order to launch their  missile. This prevented any one person from being able to perform the launch.

Fortunately, in real life, none of that happened, but at the time, everyone thought it would, at least the adults.

I know. My story has practically nothing to do with the prompt photo. Normally, I’m pretty literal, but this time, I had a different idea and I ran with it.

To read other stories based on the prompt, go to InLinkz.com.