The Holiday

Stinking of cigars the gruff man said, “We break down tomorrow kid.” Joey being distressed looses his heart. Extreme belching from hydraulic rams lift and spin amusement rides. Kids laughing, screaming, running to and from, and yet there is no witness. Joey tilts his head toward his shoulder, and inhales a memory, jasmine. “She told me. She promised me! I will never wash this shirt.”

The holiday ended early. Why? Because her dad said so, that’s why. The cars speeding view remained still. There is only one, precious, FIRST kiss. Claire spies a green and black checked shirt, too tall.

***********

Friday Fictioneers is a compilation of writers from around the world who gather online weekly, guided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge? To write a story in 100 words or less based on a new photo prompt. You are welcome to give it a try.

Click HERE to read more stories by the Friday Fictioneers.

This weeks PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Baby You’re No Good

On New Years Eve 1974 twelve inches of snow fell in Minneapolis, Minnesota. My long time friend Earl and I were doing what kids do, drinking tea and playing pinochle, kidding. It was almost midnight and being average outgoing Minnesota teens we left the warmth of one party, and set out to find another. We threw the brew in the back, and then it happened. I broke the key off in the ignition. I looked at Earl, and he looked at me. We both expressed a “Dang it all” look. Just then the radio warmed up enough to break the silence, chastising me with “Your no good, your no good, baby your no good!”  Good times.

I had been working in my uncle’s body shop in Rockford, Illinois. In my younger day if I had a toolbox, and something to work on, with enough money for a date, I was happy. I am not a very complex person. One of my projects was this 1958 Dodge panel truck I bought for $75.00.  Mechanically this vehicle was very sound, all the glass was good, but the body was in desperate need for a makeover. One feature this truck did have, was a super low ratio high torque granny gear transmission; it was absolutely fantastic in the snow.  Perfect for bombing around town on said 1972 New Years Eve.

The back half of this 1958 Dodge Panel Truck had literally separated itself from the chassis.
Rusted sections were cut out, and replaced with sheet metal.
“Holy oxidation Batman this is a total piece of junk.”  “Fear not Robin. We will add some metal panels and smooth it over with some Bondo.” “Cut away that rusty metal and throw it off to the side.”
“That’s right, now braze some new metal into place. Curve it just so, and affix it to the frame.”  “Good job Robin.”
“Keep spreading that plastic filler Robin.  Fill in the holes with Bondo, and let it set up.  Slap it on, and grind it off.  Keep that grinder busy.” “Spare no expense, go buy more Bondo Robin. We need (3) more cases.”  “Holy budget breaker Batman, that’s a truck load of Bondo.”  “Get it, truck load?”  “Yes Robin, I got.  Not your best line.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Why didn’t we paint it black like the Batmobile?” “Well you see Robin, this is the Joker’s ride. It is grace that allows one to show good will, even towards your arch enemies.

Playful Temptation

When asked, I’m the neighbor that will feed the cat, water the plants, and take in the mail. It is ironic to witness an incredibly hypnotic spider web in the home of an arachnophobic. Two years ago I brushed a spider off of Annette’s back porch, and humbly rewarded with a plate of fresh baked cookies.

What fun it would be to send Annette a photo of her kitchen. Temptation is at play. What Would Jesus Do? (WWJD) Love thy neighbor comes to mind. Sorry spider, you need to find a new home. Today I choose lame store bought cookies.

Friday Fictioneers is a compilation of writers from around the world who gather online weekly, guided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge? To write a story in 100 words or less based on a new photo prompt. Click HERE to read more stories in an online flash fiction anthology by the Friday Fictioneers.   This weeks PHOTO PROMPT is from ©Victor and Sarah Potter.

What A Mesh!

The rightful owners were bewildered to see half of the holding nets were missing, empty, or torn. The flamboyant well-healed dealers with their exotic cars, also gone. The wonderful elegant parties are now subparagraphs in legal documents. Boisterous loud condemning complaints, have given way to disappointed mutterings resembling self worth mutilation. How could a rational minded person understand it as an investment?

Digital forensic science solved the massive computer crime. The unfortunate loss of their life savings, others faired better. The storage area, the impenetrable secret coded vault, was now empty. There was not a single bitcoin in sight.

– 100 words –

Friday Fictioneers is a compilation of writers from around the world who gather online weekly, guided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge? To write a story in 100 words or less based on a new photo prompt.

Click HERE to read more stories in an online flash fiction anthology by the Friday Fictioneers.

Thank you, Roger Bultot for your fun PHOTO PROMPT ©

Puzzling Prayer

I was surfing youtube the summer of 2016, and came across a wood and nail puzzle. I found it somewhat mesmerizing, and pondered, “How did that nail get in the block of wood?” Wondering the how, is more exciting than knowing the how. I made over 50, and gave them as gifts. The gifting response varied from no comment to, “My boss borrowed it to use in a presentation about problem solving.”

My wife and I are on a prayer team in our church.   When prompted, I will gift a wood and nail puzzle to the person I prayed with. Luke 1:37 reads, “So the impossible is possible with God.” I think it is fitting knowing prayer works, not so much how it works.  Not long ago a prayer partner shared a short story with me. A guy he was visiting with said, “Hey check this out, I want to show you something.” He reached into his pocket and produced the wood and nail puzzle.  My youtube surfing effort had been confirmed.

Production line. Wood blocks are cut to shape, boiled, compressed, allowed to dry,  drilled, nail inserted, then boiled again to regain shape.
Wood blocks being boiled after nail has been inserted. Second boiling allows wood to resume original shape and size.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wood blocks drying on top of furnace. Prior to final machining.
Ready for gifting.

The First Circle

“Grasshopper, notice how each circle powers its partner.” “Yes master, I see.”  “Master, some wheels move faster, why?”  “The circle of life is greater for those who live longer Grasshopper.”  “Master, is that why you move more slowly?”  With the increasing weight of time in his bones, Master Zhou closes his aged eyes, and magically produces a tri-fold colorful pamphlet. “Grasshopper, you have many questions.”  Handing over the pamphlet Master Zhou with a clear deliberate voice delivers the age-old secret. “The lesson is this Grasshopper, you want to be very close to the first circle when you do multi-level marketing.”

– 100 words –

Friday Fictioneers is a compilation of writers from around the world who gather online weekly, guided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge? To write a story in 100 words or less based on a new photo prompt.

Click HERE to read more stories in an online flash fiction anthology by the Friday Fictioneers.

Thank you, Ted Strutz for your fun photo prompt!

No Shoes

“I cried because I had no shoes until I met a man who had no feet”  –  Helen Keller

So you had a bad day. I get it, we all get it. Here is another perspective of your bummer day/week/year. This is public information, it’s out there, it’s on the internet. It’s mine, it’s Susan’s, and it is yours to think about. Susan Briscoe has a blog site titled   “The Death Project”     She has terminal cancer and courage to document.   My sister Les passed away about a year ago due to cancer.  Susan is unsure about the truth of an after life.  I responded on her blog with my insight as follows.   (Posted with permission)

Dear Susan,

Bless you for your courage and diligence on confronting death. The Latin word for possible is possibilis, literally meaning, “What can be done?” It has connotations of power, capability, and capacity. You Susan are expressing the word possibilis perfectly.

A year ago last November, my wife and I visited with my sister. It was a precious time. The day we arrived in Texas I sat on the couch next to Les, her shoulder was touching mine. Quietly we sat holding hands.   In a short time I told her I could feel her spirit, and asked is she could feel mine? She said, “Yes.” Two day’s later before we left I was compelled to rest my left hand on her bald head, and hold her left hand in mine. We did not speak. She could not. I felt her spirit doing a happy dance with mine. That was my last visit, and last conversation with Les.

Death also met me 20 years ago. My weight had gone from 202lbs to 118. My colon had been removed, and peritonitis took over. Eleven weeks in the hospital and faith the size of one half, of one half, of a mustard seed was enough to extend my days to now. I had an epiphany, and God’s healing hand touched me. I love your conviction to speak of death. Everyone will share this life event. There is no getting around it. You are a brave soul, with a kind spirit Susan.

Addressing your post Ask Me Anything #8: Afterlife: This is my belief. One day I too will take my last determining breath, and find myself before Jesus. He will rest his hand on my shoulder, and say to God, “I know this man.” And as a child of God I too will inherit the kingdom along with all his other undeserving children. You asked, and as crazy as all that sounds, it is what I know. It is my faith that gives my soul the permission to believe. This free gift, this inheritance is available to everyone. Keep posting Susan. You are a true treasure.

With Joy,

Dan Bohn

 

The Extra Zero

“Those dammed Himalayan Kerchoos.” Church deacon Samantha’s self-scolding was enough to make her blush. She had always been a stickler for details. Planning a luncheon date required a minimum of two day’s notice. She often ate alone.

“Stupid purchasing job!” “I was happy, my income was sufficient.” Looking towards the window she wished to relive the quick easy order for fifty Himalayan Kerchoos, “That damned extra zero.” “I’m a good person.” Samantha’s self-talk played like a good cop bad cop script.

Hiram, her boss, brings her a cup of tea and smiles, “Mrs. Johnson would like three dozen for Christmas.”

100 words

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

Written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).

To read stories of 100 words based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.

The Final Blow

With hammer in hand and gripped for the blow. My umpteenth visit to uncle Harold’s abandoned farmstead produced little fruit. Disposal is everlasting. I was uncle Harry’s favorite runner. My sister his favorite dancer, and the favorites list went on.

Mom questioned Harold’s judgment. Firecrackers, slingshots, and coming home after dark my friend, my uncle Harry invented excitement. We installed the Kohler together, he taught me basic plumbing.  This summer is a lesson of endearment.

I don’t want to liquidate. The back shed is not an eyesore. It is a treasure. One day we will walk together. Jesus promised.

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

Written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).

To read stories of 100 words based lon this week’s prompt, visit HERE.

Please Give Blood! A plea by Susan Briscoe

The Death Project

blood drop

Last year I received several blood transfusions and put out a call for friends and family to donate blood, especially as I no longer can. (Also to please sign their organ donor cards! I have a friend waiting for a healthy kidney.) Our blood supply in Quebec is all from unpaid donors, which is impressive considering the many restrictions to keep the supply safe. I am anemic again due to abdominal bleeding from my sarcoma, and have been prescribed two transfusions tomorrow. I feel bad taking from our blood bank without being able to give back. Since I’ve been ill many of you have asked if you can do anything to help. Could I ask a few of you to donate on my behalf? (To be clear, I am not asking for direct donations; yours would go to someone else in need.) This is an easy way to give during…

View original post 5 more words