Writer. Feminist. Historian. Person.
no more comic books
or picturing his first shave
no more sneaking drinks
or pretending not to hear
two ten main street is no more
Thanks to Fandango for the thought-provoking photo. It reminded me of the sad Covid-19 reality that some things may never come back. Not sure why my mind went to barbershops, but … it did. So here’s my story that’s also a poem or poem that’s also a story? You get the idea!
Stay safe! Where a mask. Be a kind human person. We’re all going thought something.
Virtuosity
Denied by trepidation
Solitary snare
Our challenge is to write a six-word story based on the word prompt of “spider.” My contribution is a story AND a haiku. Check out the Saturday Six Word Story prompt for more stories and the rules of the game.
The view looked like some kind of soulless painting. Beautiful but no signs of life. She used to know the names for artistic stuff like that. Photorealistic, maybe? Hell. It was all apocalyptic now. Unexpectedly, tears blurred her vision. She thought her grief had run its course but seeing those empty chairs. So expectant. So normal. Just waiting for someone with a cup of coffee or a glass of wine.
Closing her eyes, she shut down those thoughts. She was rooftop for recon. Not useless nostalgia. Before was done. It’s after now.
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
Thanks for the inspiration. Visit Rochelle’s Friday Fictioner for details about joining in the fun. Plus while you’re there, you can read lots of wonderful stories.
Smoke. Strong coffee. The sweet grassy smell of evaporating dew. Birds singing as the sun rose. That delicious sense of freedom. And quiet. Not knowing where she’d be tomorrow. Relishing her role as momma’s “little nomad.”
A tiny but furious voice interrupted her reverie. “No! Mad!”
Shaking off the past, she turned to now. The queen of the “terrible twos” demanded attention. Memory lane would have to wait.
Thanks to Sammi for her prompt (nomad) and the challenge to write a 68 word story. Click here for rules and other takes on the challenge.
Frustrated, Jane muted the tv and glared at her roommates.
Returning Jane’s glare, Peter lit up a joint and took a deep hit before blowing the smoke directly into her face.
“Damn it! Pete. You know I’ve got a Zoom meeting.”
“Not my problem. Shield your face. Wear one of those damn masks you keep sewing.”
Ignoring Pete, she returned to the muted tv. But watching the orange faced idiot gesticulate wildly just made it worse. Feeling the rage building, she closed her eyes and surrendered. Humming “whatever gets you through the night” she whispered, “Pass me that joint.”
Thanks to Linda for giving us the word “joint” for her SoCS challenge.
PSA: I live in a weed-legal state so I’m not advocating breaking the law! 😉
Combining joint with the Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction challenge to write a story about telling someone to “shield your face” resulted in this (thinly veiled) comment on our times. It basically popped into my head almost fully formed, so I only had to delete a couple of words to get it down to the required 99 words. (Meaning, I feel like I also adhered to the spirit of the SoCS rules.) Check out each of their sites for more info and more writing.
Plus thanks for making me think of this fabulous Lennon tune.
Whatever Gets You Through the Night
Tina Stewart Brakebill 