Tuesday Scribes – Three Days of Nothing But Fun and Music

A Six Sentence Story for this week’s prompt at Tuesday Scribes.

Danni went to Woodstock.
“Far out, man,” she said aloud to herself when she spotted the crowds milling in the mud below.
Telling her to stay away from the brown acid was like dangling a carrot.
You might as well have said, “do not press ‘this’ button” when you sit said button down in front of her.
Three days later, she remembered nothing except the clock.
She would always have the clock.


OLWG#63- One Pill Makes You Larger…

Written for OLWG#63

Alice slowly made her way between the barrows at the Farmer’s Market. She had time to kill. She enjoyed handling the produce, smelling the flowers, and planning her meals for the next few days. She had picked up and was fondling a large, ripe, red tomato when she became aware of a ruckus behind her. She turned and saw a short overweight white rabbit. He was kickin’ up a fuss and wearing a waistcoat as he peered at a large pocket watch through half-moon spectacles. He was also a little bit obese.

“Oh my,” he muttered, “I’ll be late yet again.” He was quickly coming up through the crowd; weaving, bobbing and pushing to get through.

Alice recognized him right away, of course, it had been his hole that she had fallen through all those years ago. She reached out and put her hands on his shoulders, slowing down his forward momentum.

“Rabbit? Is that you?” she asks him. “You’re always in a hurry, always on the run. It’s market day. You shouldn’t have anywhere urgent that you must be today?

“Why, yes! I do,” he replies, “I have a date, you see. Wait! Is that you Mary Ann? Goodness girl, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you. Where on earth have you been?” He looked at his watch again, “Oh my, I’m so late! Mary Ann, could I prevail upon you to run home and fetch my fan and white gloves?”

“I’d be happy to do that for you, Rabbit, but look at your watch first.”

“What?” he asked, “I am looking at my watch. I’m late! I’m terribly late!”

Alice gently reached out and turned the watch right side up for him.

“Look again, Rabbit. You’re not late, you’re early.”

The short, obese rabbit looked down at the timepiece he held in his paw and blinked. He pushed his specs up on his nose, he pulled them back down. He looked through the lenses. He looked over the lenses and then he blinked a few more times.

“Early?” he questioned, “I’m early? Goodness me, this has never happened! Whatever shall I do?

“I know. I’ll stop for tea. Mary Ann, would you like to join me for tea?”

“I’d love to, Rabbit. It’s been years since I’ve gotten really, really small, and I quite fancy the idea of having another go. Lead on, sir.”

The two friends linked arms and one hopped, the other skipped out of the market and down a tiny side street; in search of the white rabbit’s favourite tea shop.

“You are looking lovely, Mary Ann.”

“Why thank you, Rabbit, but I’m not Mary Ann. My name’s Alice.”

“What? Really? Can that be right?”

“Oh, your waistcoat is becoming a bit tattered, sir. I’ve been away for an awfully long time, maybe longer than I had realized. Perhaps I can mend it for you later… “

They turned right at the end of the lane.

This week’s prompts were:

  1. you’re early
  2. always on the run
  3. the way you sleep



The Lewis and Rebman Expedition

Written for the August 9th Flash Fiction Challenge

Lewis increased his pace to catch up and have a word with Rebman, “I expect our way will be blocked when we round the next bend. Have you seen them?”

“Seen whom?” Rebman asked. He glanced about, now noticing flashes of bright crimson and deep indigo between the dense trees. He asked, “Who are they?”

“The locals here are autochthonous,” Lewis advised. “The claim to be descended from Lellages, the purported elder son of Belabub. Who, in turn, was a Philistine god. The Hebrews called him Beelzebub, the Christians, called him Satan.”


“I believe so, Rebman. I believe so.”

The prompt and instructions were:

In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes  an act of “peering from the woods.” Go where the prompt leads.

OLWG#62- Krissy (with a K)- Unfinished

An unfinished story (I ran out of time)
Written for OLWG#62

Me, Stevie, and Mike were out cruising in Stevie’s 1959 Series 62 Cadillac convertible one night during our senior year in High School. I had just that afternoon shelled out ten bucks for a four-finger lid of pretty good Mexican herb rolled up in a baggie and stuffed in my right boot. Mike had a bottle of Blanco that he had taken from his Dad’s collection. We were drinking, smoking, and generally getting high.

Let me tell you about the car. It was red with tan leather upholstery. It was a heavy two-door convertible that probably weighed over two tons. Had to be more than twenty feet long, with a big 390 V8, and the back seat was large enough for you and a friend to make yourselves… comfortable in. It handled like a boat, a very powerful boat, and was easy to look at. It was a chick magnet; and that was the reason we were in the Caddy. There was an 8 track player mounted beneath the dash and we had the new Fairport Convention tape, “What We Did on Our Holidays”, shoved in and cranked.

We stopped in at ‘The Box’ and found some girls who were up for cruising downtown in the Caddy and I soon found myself sitting in the backseat with a girl named Krissy (with a K). She came with a joint about the size of her middle finger and we torched it off, passed it around. When Stevie pulled into the parking lot of the Montana Street Piggly Wiggly it was to get cookies and chips. We needed to feed our munchies. Krissy (with a K) took a cookie and began to nibble the edges, very lady-like.  She turned her head and when she thought no one was looking; she stuffed what musta been three whole Oreos in her mouth. Of course she didn’t get away with it. She laughed and a spray of cookie crumbs erupted which caused even more laughter, and in response she ate two more chocolate sandwich cookies. That was the kind of night it was, and we were all having a great time.

Long story short… It was about midnight when we found ourselves outside the U. We noticed a party at one of the “Greek Houses” and feeling no pain, we decided to stop in there. Maybe drink some of their booze. We told the guy at the door that Jimmy had asked us to come by, figuring there must be somebody in this frat named Jimmy. It worked and he stepped aside so that we could all come in. We got separated pretty quickly and me and Krissy (with a K) found ourselves in the basement seated at a U shaped bar with some other couples. There was this one guy just staring at me so I tried to avoid eye contact but eventually, of course, I failed.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” he snarled at me.

Now, I’ve listened to enough Country Music to know that there is no ‘right’ answer to this question when it is asked in that tone of voice, but the asker of said question will never allow you to ignore him. I took another approach, “Hey, don’t I know you?” I asked him. “Yeah, yeah, I do. You’re the guy who lost his job at the M&M plant for throwing out all the Ws. How’s your Momma?”

You could see the steam coming out of his ears. The boy was hot and I was beginning to worry about how I was going to get Krissy (with a K) out of there unharmed, but then he smiled.

This week’s prompts were:

  1. Jacks
  2. what’re you lookin’ at?
  3. they taught us to fear the dark



Tuesday Scribes – In Marlow

A Haibun for this week’s prompt at Tuesday Scribes.

“It’s a lovely little town, these days, but it wasn’t always so. They used to have a haunting problem. Every night, at about midnight, the High Street would fill with phantoms and spirits. They’d overrun the town till dawn, wreaking havoc, causing mayhem. Residents stayed inside, doors locked, sashes shut tight, curtains drawn. Few were brave enough to venture outdoors and those that did – usually didn’t return.

“The population dwindled till there was more spectres out at night than was good folk during the day. The village, like to’ve died. It’s coming back these days.”

There’s a churchyard that’s
by the bridge, o’er the river.
The gate’s kept locked now.