Arrow



“I were with the Admiral at the pole in ‘09. ‘Course he weren’t yet an admiral then.

“It weren’t our first try. First time was Greenland, dogsleds.

“We failed.

“We tried agin thru Greenland and we failed agin.

“We kept trying, three more times, least.

“Thrice we failed.

“The last time we won.

“We wintered on Ellesmere but pushed on at the end of Feb when the weather were right.

Me, Peary, and four Inuit made it in April.

“We knowed we was there when the arrow on me compass spun in circles; round and round, like a top, it spun.

“When we got back home, that bastard, Cook, tried to claim he beat us.

“We knowed he didn’t beat us.

“He couldn’t talk to the compass readings.

“He weren’t never there.

“He weren’t there.”


OLWG#73- A Legend in His Own Mind

Flash fiction written for OLWG#73



“Have you written anything I may have read?” She flirtatiously grins, and flashes pearly whites

“Well, at the beginning of the year I published something; not sure if you would have read it or not. Do you read children’s books?” He affects pretentious boredom

“Well, yes; I’m a teacher. I read a lot of children’s books. Will I know yours?” Wearing her professional hat

“Well, my most recent book was an alphabet book. I’m told it’s my best work, to date. The opening line is killer: ‘A is for apple.’ Then I follow up with, B is for bicycle and, C is courgette. I did the illustrations myself as well.” Aggrandizing

“Where did the idea come from? What was your inspiration?” Intrigued

“I was sketching and drew a few parallel lines of decreasing lengths. I thought it looked a bit like a xylophone, and the idea grew from there. I eventually refined the sketch and used it for my ‘X’ page.” Minimizing

“Can I get your card? I’ve got a few ideas myself but I’m not sure what to do with them, yet.” Fishing

“I’m working on a sequel now, a counting book.” Still full of himself


This week’s prompts were:

  1. bicycle
  2. xylophone
  3. courgette

OLWG#72- One of the Girls

Flash fiction written for OLWG#72



Bitsy clasped the pile of dungarees and gabardine to her breast and announced to everyone within the sound of her voice, “There’s been a mistake, I shouldn’t be here.”

A big girl who looked a bit like Betty Page and wore a blue uniform yelled from the door, “Move along, ladies. We ain’t got all day. Move it, move it.”

Another girl, with a blue Mohawk haircut and a lot of piercings put her hand in the middle of Bitsy’s back and shoved, “You heard her. Get moving’.”

“Jeeze, OK, OK. I’m going.”

As Bitsy moved on down the line she received a stack of white t-shirts, and a web belt. She got a pair of black round toed boots, and two plastic packages of white granny panties. All of these things she pushed into the green duffel they gave her when she first entered the long hallway-like room.

Drawing closer to the Betty Page look-alike, by the door, Bitsy found herself facing a redhead with a mermaid tattoo on her forearm. She barked, “Cup size?”

“I beg your pardon?” Bitsy asked back?”

“Cup size? Cup size?” she stared at Bitsy’s eyes.

Bitsy looked down at her chest, “Uhm, B?” she said. “Thirty-two B.”

Mermaid tattoo reached over and grabbed a handful of white underwire bras and thrust them out.

“Don’t you have something lacy?” Bitsy asked; which drew another shove from ‘blue Mohawk’. “Please don’t do that again.”

As they came abreast of the big girl, who somehow seemed to be in charge, Bitsy stopped and said with her most polite manner, the way her abuelita taught her. She said, “’Scuse me, there’s been a terrible mistake. I’m not supposed to be here. Can you show me the way to the office so I can get this straightened out?”

“What’s your name, Princess?” the Betty Page girl asked.

“Bitsy,” smiling. “Bitsy Bustamante.”

“Well, Princess Bitsy, why don’t you just fall in outside there with the rest of the girls and we can talk about this after we all get our makeovers?” Then she whispered out of the corner of her mouth, “new hairdos.”

Bitsy was about to express her approval when Blue Mohawk shoved her for the final time, this time though, Bitsy spun around and latched onto a heavy ring that Mohawk Girl wore in a piercing through her left nostril. It ripped all the way out and even Bitsy was amazed by the amount of blood produced.

“I asked you nicely,” Bitsy said.

Betty laughed, “I think you do belong here, Princess. I think you’re going to fit right in.”


This week’s prompts were:

  1. If it’s too perfect
  2. move along
  3. one of the girls

Unlock



I explore the ambit of my science
my mythology, my Gods, and beliefs
ever seeking my Magnum Opus – My
Philosopher’s Stone, My Elixir of Life

My
Flame, my
Dirt, my
Aqua, and my
Breeze

I have read the wordless book
Studied the plates contained therein and
unlocked the secrets of base metal transmutations
My name will live forever and my legacy is secure


anadiplosis

TBP


You came home to a house filled with strangers,
strangers with all of their dangers,
dangers they bring to your door.

You reach for the strap at the small of your back and
back, right back outside.
Outside into the gloom

Where the moon is a cat’s smile,
A smile holding water,
water that ebbs; becomes a low tide.

You and a house full of dangerous strangers – low tide ‘neath a bright crescent moon.


I took a few liberties with the prompts, sorry.

Tuesday Scribes– An American Sentence is a Pretty Short Story

A short story, written for this week’s prompt at Tuesday Scribes.



We came back to town after the storm, but all we found was Mama’s couch.

Photo courtesy of “Tuesday Scribes”

The challenge is to write a short story.
It can be as short as you like but no longer than 200-words.

Mine’s 17 syllables

OLWG#71- Cowboys Bikers and Queens

Flash fiction written for OLWG#71



“Of course I do, everyone knows that Queen Victoria smoked herb for menstrual cramps. ’Least that’s what they say… Not everyone knows though that she always carried a knife in her boot.”

“What? She wore boots?”


This week’s prompts were:

  1. a knife in her boot
  2. art deco
  3. start with baby steps

Submerge

Writing to a prompt



When I was a younger man, I spent my days submerged.

No doubt, many of you did too.

See the difference is that most of you, were likely to have submerged yourself in books,

or sports,

food,

or drugs,

sex,

or religion.

I submerged myself in the sea,

and I lived underwater for months at a time.

I mighta went a lotta places I hadn’t oughta gone;

done a lotta things I mighta not oughta done.

Maybe not though. Maybe I just bored holes in oceans.


 

 

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