His First Sleepover

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields

Martha and Joseph woke up suddenly, to find their entire home shaking violently.

They looked at each other and then cried out together, “The sleepover!”

They ran out, only to find their yard looking like it had been struck by a tornado.

And then, they saw the kids, crowded together, but safe. She checked once again, and then cried out, “Where’s Dorothy?”

“I don’t know Mom,” her son replied meekly, “I was fast asleep, when she tickled my nose….and I sneezed.”

Martha shook her head, and sighed, “Clark Kent, what am I ever going to do with you?”

**********************************************************************************

99 words.

Written as a part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE).

Note: The State of Kansas has given three notable figures to the literary world- Dorothy (of Wizard of Oz fame), Clark Kent (the mild-mannered reporter who’s the secret identity of Superman) and our illustrious host, Rochelle!

Just Jammin’

Photo by Wal_172619 @ picabay.com

The jam stretched on for miles, but there was no honking of horns, no loud grumblings of frustrated drivers or impatient passengers.

Everyone was just staring out of their windows, mouths wide open.

You would think that they’d never seen giant sloths crossing the road before.

***********************************************************************************

279 characters.

Written in response to Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales #149 – 13 August 2019.

The Makeover

Photo from Morguefile

My face lit up with pride as I watched Anne write.

When I’d found her running cheap scams on Pub Street, she couldn’t even spell her name, let alone being able to write it. But I’d seen something in her…a hunger – to succeed, to leave this state of destitution behind, to live life on her own terms.

Convincing her to allow me to change her life was the easier part. But grooming her, teaching her how to stand, sit, talk, even eat and drink, took a lot out of both of us.

I would be lying if I told you that I didn’t contemplate leaving this crazy project of mine unfinished numerous times, but one look at her face, and I doubled down to trying even harder than before.

For it was her face that had worked its magic upon me, right from that night on the street when I first saw her.

The face that would make all this blood and sweat worth it in the end.

The face that was an exact replica of the missing heiress of a multi-billion dollar empire, a spitting image of the girl buried in an unmarked grave in my backyard.

*************************************************************************************

199 words.

Written as a part of Sunday Photo Fiction – Aug 11 2019.

 

 

 

Think of the Devil

“Eat it, you know that you want to,” the Devil whispered in Eve’s ears.

Eve looked apprehensively at the apple and replied, “It…does look delicious…but Adam told me not to accept anything from strangers.”

The Devil plucked the apple from the tree, and said, “Let ME have a bite first, so that you know it’s safe.”

He smiled as he bit into the apple, he knew it was unsafe only for humans.

Eve smiled as the Devil clutched at his throat, it was a good thing she’d had the foresight to poison the apple the night before!

************************************************************************************

99 words.

Written in response to the Carrot Ranch August 8: Flash Fiction Challenge.

Braveheart

 

Photo prompt courtesy Sue Vincent

“Are you sure he’s going to come this way?” I asked my best friend.

“Absolutely, I have it right from the horse’s mouth,” came the reply.

I shifted slightly within the narrow confines of the space under the stone, and said, “OK, so we wait.”

My friend said apprehensively, “Is this really the only way? Can’t we talk to him or something?”

“No,” I replied grimly, “this is our land, and we will not allow him and his ilk to despoil it anymore.”

“But….he’s so much bigger than us,” my friend stuttered. He seemed to be developing cold feet as our wait increased.

“Don’t worry,” I assured him confidently, “my Dad always used to tell me- Real power lies within.”

A resolute look came on his face as he heard that, and he said, “Yes, together, we can take him on. He’s powerful, but so are we.”

Suddenly, we heard a rumble, and the ground beneath us started shaking.

“That’s our sign. NOW!” I shouted.

He jumped from the small ledge, landing on the ground, and shouted majestically, “STOP! We will not allow you on our land from now on. My friend and I will….”

And it was then that he noticed that I had not joined him, and was still hiding under the stone.

“He’s almost here. What are you doing?” he cried out.

“Following my Dad’s advice,” I replied, “real power lies within…within this hiding hole, that is. So I’ll be damned if I’m coming out to face that….”

My words were drowned out as the rampaging herd of horses finally passed by, squashing my best friend to a pulp.

I guess my friend should have remembered, however hard you might rattle, at the end of the day, we’re still snakes.

***************************************************************************************

Written in response to Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt: Within #writephoto

 

 

Childhood Crush

PHOTO PROMPT © Randy Mazie

Panting heavily, Mary rushed into the abandoned building, and banged the door shut behind her.

Tears ran down her eyes as she recalled how everyone used to comment on how inseparable both of them were.

But then, they grew up, and it was fun and games no more.

He refused to leave her alone for even a second. She felt like she was being smothered mercilessly.

And so, she ran, away from him, towards freedom, and safety.

Suddenly, she heard a scraping at the door, and her face went white.

CRASH!

Mary’s little lamb had followed her here too!

*************************************************************************************

99 words.

Written as a part of Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Bang for the Buck

Photo by David Reed at Pixabay.com

“Mom, can I please go back to my Video Game now?”

“Just a few more minutes sweety, keep making those weird sounds and waving your arms.”

“But our team needs me.”

“So do they on the helicopter, son. They’ve paid top dollars for a peek into the life of an authentic indigenous tribe.”

*************************************************************************************

280 characters.

Written as a part of Kat Myrman’s Twittering Tales #148 – August 6, 2019.