‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ Week #38 Entry Part 4) By D.L.Finn @dlfinnauthor #IARTG #WritingPrompts #FlashFiction #WritingCommunity

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to Part 4) of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021.  Week #38.

Today I’m featuring a contribution By D L Finn.

Last week I set the following Challenge:

Hello everyone and welcome to my new “Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Each week I’ll be featuring an image and inviting you to write a Flash Fiction or Non-Fiction piece inspired by that image in any format and genre of your choosing.  Maximum word count: 750 words.

Here is the image prompt and D.L.Finns contribution.

SWIMMING IN THE OCEAN

The cool winter sun reflected off the blue sea, making it hard to see. I blinked hard to clear my vision as I dove back into the water. Why were my children and grandchildren huddled together on the white sandy beach? Didn’t they want to swim with me?

My oldest grandson, Peter, walked to the water’s edge. He tossed a lei of pink plumeria flowers into the waves. Those flowers reminded me of the wonderful day when Bob and I renewed our vows for our 50th Wedding Anniversary on a beautiful Hawaiian beach.

I jumped high into the air and called out. “Where did you get the flowers, Peter?”

An enormous wave crashed against the rocks, drowning out my words.

Peter stood with his hands folded over a black shirt and a dolphin tie that I’d bought him when he graduated from college last year. The bottom of his black pants was soaked from the incoming waves.

I shook my head and tried again. “The water’s great! Join me!”

Louder breaking waves masked my words, leaving only a whistle.

Right then, a small pod of dolphins approached and then swam urgently around me.

“What’s wrong? Are you protecting me?” I scanned the area for danger and received no reply, as expected.

A dolphin was studying me. A familiar chill ran through me as the dolphin gently brushed against me. Was it? No. It couldn’t be.

“Bob?”

He held my stare until I shook my head and sped to the surface, only to find my family walking away.

“Hey! Where are you going?” But only a high pitch noise came from my lips. It wasn’t the loud waves; I’d lost my voice.

Peter spun around and met my gaze. He smiled and pointed to his tie. Then he wiped the tears off his face and put on black framed sunglasses. What he did next tugged heavily on my heart. He blew me a kiss just like he had as a small boy, when it was time to go home.

“Peter!” I yelled, yet nothing but that strange sound came out again. I saw him pause for a moment, offer a wave, and then keep going. He soon disappeared with everyone else.

The lei was floating toward me in a patch of grey powder. It reminded me of when we scattered Bob’s ashes into the ocean. The flowers came right to me with a plastic card attached. On it was written: Mother and Grandmother, You will be missed and forever loved.

Then it all came crashing back to me with the force of a spring-loaded trap. The uncomfortable hospital bed and the beeping machines.

The young doctor’s sad tone. “There’s nothing else we can do except make her comfortable.”

The cancer had won its battle, but I was in the ocean. I smiled. It had happened. I turned in a circle and saw what I expected, a dolphin’s tail.

The same dolphin whistled and clicked. This time I understood my beloved husband, Bob. We had found each other again. Words couldn’t come fast enough as we caught up. Then we sat comfortably in our gift long after the pod, that Bob had lived with, moved on.

It was just the two of us, and we happily explored the new world. We avoided humans, killer whales, and sharks, or maybe it was us they avoided. We were never sure.

We were peacefully investigating the purple, pink, red, green, and blue colors that mingled in the coral reefs off the Big Island in Hawaii. A lone dolphin swam up to us with eyes so familiar I immediately knew it was Peter.

The joy at that moment could only be expressed in high dolphin jumps. Later we learned our grandson had become a famous author, had three boys, and happy marriage. I didn’t ask how he died, and he never brought it up.

As the years passed, our pod continued to grow as our family slowly joined us, including ones we’d never met in life, or Peter’s amazing wife. To this day, our family still explores the ocean. We offer gratitude with our high leaps that we’ve been given such a special gift. Maybe you’ve seen us and felt our joy?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Denise says;

“I dedicate this short story to my grandkids. We had a discussion on what I would become while watching the Disney movie, “Moana.” The grandmother became a Manta Ray after she passed. Of course, it was decided I would come back as a dolphin, as long as I promised never to leave them. Then, we went on to talk about spirit and souls which is a whole other story”

D.L.Finn can be reached here …

Blog site:

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE:

On TWITTER:

On FACEBOOK:

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‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ Week #38 Entry Part 3) by Ladyleemanila @Ladyleemanila #IARTG #WritingPrompts #FlashFiction #WritingCommunity

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to Part 3)  of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021” Week #38.

Today I’m featuring contributions from entry Part 3) By Ladyleemanila

Last week I set the following Challenge:

Hello everyone and welcome to my new “Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Each week I’ll be featuring an image and inviting you to write a Flash Fiction or Non-Fiction piece inspired by that image in any format and genre of your choosing.  Maximum word count: 750 words.

Here is the image prompt and Ladyleemanila’s contribution.

There once was a dolphin from the sea

Who’s fed up of swimming, likes to ski

To the mountain he goes

Too much for him he froze

He changed his mind went back to the quay

This dolphin still not satisfied

Some places and things to do he tried

Didn’t matter he’s big

Thinks of himself as pig

Or perhaps he just needs a new bride*

(c) ladyleemanila 2021

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ll find Ladylee here.

https://ladyleemanilablog.wordpress.com/

https://twitter.com/ladyleemanila

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ Week #38 Entry Part 1) By John Howell @HowellWave and Entry Part 2) by Suzanne Burke @pursoot #IARTG #WritingPrompts #FlashFiction #WritingCommunity

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to Parts 1) and 2) of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021.  Week #38.

Today I’m featuring contributions from entry 1)By John Howell and Entry 2) My own contribution.

Last week I set the following Challenge:

Hello everyone and welcome to my new “Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Each week I’ll be featuring an image and inviting you to write a Flash Fiction or Non-Fiction piece inspired by that image in any format and genre of your choosing.  Maximum word count: 750 words.

Here is the image prompt.

This one-line contribution by John Howell.

“Big shot TV tuna or no, you can’t do this, Charlie.”

John Howell can be reached here …

Visit at Amazon.https://www.amazon.com/author/johnwhowell

 Twitter:

Author Blog Fiction Favorites:

Here is my own contribution.

SYNCHRONICITY.

Jeremy secured the beach canopy, then hurriedly spread out the blanket on the golden sand. Cathy carried four-year-old Matthew across and sat him down, ensuring he was comfortable before seating herself alongside her husband.

Jeremy reached across and patted her hand, “Don’t get your hopes up, honey. We’ve been through so many ways to try and communicate with Matt, and it shreds us to pieces every time we’ve failed. I can’t bear too many more of these disappointments.  I mean we’re the only ones here and the dolphins apparently haven’t been sighted for days.”

Cathy squeezed his hand in acknowledgement, “Oh, God, babe, I understand, truly I do. But don’t you see … I can’t bear the thought of missing one single possibility to reach him on some level.” She looked at their child as she spoke. Matthew sat as always with his arms wrapped tightly together in front of him, and he rocked backwards and forwards to a beat of some kind that only he could hear. “Let’s look at the positives, at the very least we get to spend a day by the ocean, and we haven’t done that in such a long time.”

Her husband smiled at her with love. “Ah, there’s my dreamer. Who knows, I may even build a sand-castle after lunch.”

Cathy just nodded in gratitude. Trying hard not to warp herself in her own sadness grew increasingly more difficult as the years passed. She’d never heard her son laugh, nor felt the touch of her child’s loving hand on her face. There was no answering smile in response to her own. The only sound Matthew made was a high-pitched squeal that couldn’t be deciphered by any of the specialists they’d been to.  Their precious child lived in a world of total isolation and her heart ached for him. He could hear them, but couldn’t respond to any of their efforts. It must be so terrifying to feel so alone. Her little boy could walk, but, seemed to do so without a destination in mind.

As she watched on Matthew grew agitated, the rocking increased and then sped up. Matthew stood and began pacing in measured steps left to right. His fingers clenched around his upper arms and his focus was directed out over the ocean, toward something only he could see.

Jeremy clutched her arm and pointed, “There. I saw a dolphin, I’m sure of it!”

Matthew’s pacing grew slower, and without turning away from the ocean he took a step forward.

A dolphin surfaced nearby, and Matthew took another step forward, and then stopped. He appeared to be waiting for something.

Jeremy and Cathy stood just behind him, unable to speak. They watched on as he began walking again, with a very clear destination in mind. They followed quietly not daring to make a sound.

Matthew reached the gentle waves lapping at the shore and his parents watched as the dolphin moved slowly towards him in the shallow water. It stopped within arms- length of the child.

They watched as Matthew opened his arms and allowed his left hand to trail in the water, moving it gently like a frond of seaweed caught in the current with his child’s fingers extended downward.

Matthew began to squeal, but this was different. Cathy could barely breathe as she witnessed the dolphin roll over and offer its underbelly to be touched. The little boy responded, and his chubby fingers began to stroke the beautiful mammal.

The dolphin surfaced and Matthew touched its flank softly. Matthew’s parents watched on and witnessed the first smile they had ever seen on their son’s face.

The sound that now came from their boy would live in their memories forever, it was a squeal of pure childish delight that erupted into laughter.

Matthew then stood still and took one step backward, as the dolphin gave a nod towards him and arched itself back into the deeper water. The youngster stood there utterly focused until the mammal disappeared from view.

He turned then, and moved back towards his parents.

Jeremy and Cathy couldn’t speak. They weren’t sure what they had witnessed. Matthew resumed his place under the canopy. He still rocked back and forward, but his arms were no longer wrapped around him and his fingers were unclenched. It was as if he’d finally been helped to understand that nothing here would ever deliberately harm him.

Jeremy built a sandcastle after lunch. His wife smiled her approval, and his son sat rocking peacefully and watching every move his father made.

His mother found him a seashell, she placed it to her ear and smiled at the sound of the ocean. Matthew didn’t flinch as she placed it to his ear, and a joyous smile lit his precious face as he recognized the sound of the ocean.

He slept that night with the seashell held in his hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~

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‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ Week #38 New Image Prompt! Join in the fun! #IARTG #FlashFiction #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts @pursoot

Hello everyone and welcome to my weekly “Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021″  WEEK #38.

Each week I’ll be featuring an image and inviting you to write a Flash Fiction or Non-Fiction piece inspired by that image in any format and genre of your choosing.  Maximum word count: 750 words.

Please put it (or a link to it) in a comment (ON THIS PAGE)  or email it to me at suzieb4burke@hotmail.com  by ,DEADLINE: 4pm EDT on Thursday, March 4th.  Subject: Fiction in a Flash Challenge. If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to this page would be much appreciated.

I’ll be sharing all entries received, and, my own contribution here AS I RECEIVE THEM.

Here is the image prompt for this week.

Image by Dean Lofgren from Pixabay

I hope the image inspires you! Come and join in the fun.

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‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ Week #37) Entry Part 10) by Jacquie Biggar @jacqbiggar #IARTG #FlashFiction #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to Entry PART 10) for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021” Week #37.

Today I’m featuring a contribution by Jacquie Biggar

Last week I set the following Challenge:

Hello everyone and welcome to my new “Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Each week I’ll be featuring an image and inviting you to write a Flash Fiction or Non-Fiction piece inspired by that image in any format and genre of your choosing.  Maximum word count: 750 words.

Here is the image prompt and the contribution.

Where One Door Closes…

Hank straightened his tie and used the back of his pant legs to polish worn shoes, balancing like a flamingo in front of the dark wood door. Nervous perspiration coated his forehead and under arms covered in the only suit he owned– a heavy gray woolen affair he’d picked up for a steal when his father passed away two years ago.

His father.

It was because of the old man he was in this position. The letter from the lawyer was explicit; if he wanted to inherit (and Lord knows, he did) he had to show up to this interview and make a good impression, or the entire estate would go to his father’s favorite charity- cat rescue.

Fine. He could hop to his dad’s tune one last time; especially if it meant he’d have the last laugh. Five long years since he’d been banished from home. Five miserable, hungry, destitute years. When he got the money, the first thing he was going to do is eat the biggest steak he could buy. Hell, he might even buy a round for the house. That would get the old man’s knickers in a knot- wherever he was.

Filled with renewed determination, Hank lifted his hand to knock, vaguely surprised by the heat he could feel on the door. Number thirteen, Triskaidekaphobia. Trust his father to test his superstitious beliefs. Maybe this was all some sick game concocted by a mean-minded egomaniac determined to make his only son tow the line. It would be just like him.

Hank lowered his fist and began to turn away, his shoulders dejected, when the door swung open, revealing a black maw beyond.

“H… hello?” he called, his voice quivering though he tried to overcome his fear. “W… who’s there?”

The hinges creaked under the force of his hand, the shadows lengthening out to encompass his legs. Frightened, but curious, he pushed his way into the dark room. The air was stagnant and held the scent of incense- or was that kerosene? Either way, it made his head swim.

The door closed with a decisive snap, enshrouding him in the tomb-like atmosphere. A lamp flickered to life on a wide oak desk situated in the middle of the room. A man with benevolent features gestured for Hank to take a seat.

Left with little choice, he did as directed, perching on the edge of the hard chair. “Now what?” he demanded, angry at whatever sick game his father had arranged for him today.

The stranger raised a snow-white brow and pushed two sets of papers across the broad expanse of the desk. Next, he laid a gold pen within Hank’s reach. “Choose carefully,” he said, and sat back, fingers steepled under his chin.

Ready to walk out and forget the whole thing, Hank nevertheless picked up the first sheaf of papers and began to read. It was a journal of his life; an itemized list from birth to the day he left home- all the embarrassing tantrums, name-calling, stealing- it was all there.

Unable to keep reading, he set down the first set of papers and picked up the next. This one was also a journal, but more of a fantasy interpretation. It portrayed him as a sweet and generous child, smart, kind, well-liked. The opposite of how he’d been- truth beknown.

“Fine, I’ve read this crap. What do you want from me?” He threw the papers down and glared defiantly at the old man facing him.

The stranger shrugged. “It’s up to you. Choose the life you believe you’ve led, and sign. One will grant you eternal riches, and the other… won’t.”

Hank swore softly under his breath. Trust the old man to throw one last hurdle at him from the grave. Question was; which story would give him what he wanted?

Picking up the fine gold pen, he hesitated over one, then the other, before finally slashing his name across the page and shoving the whole works across the desk. “There, you have your signature. Where’s my money?”

The old man glanced at the papers and smiled, delight turning his dark eyes into flames. “If you’re sure that’s your answer, your quest begins on the other side of the door behind you.”

Hank rose and stared at the door he’d come through. What was this? There’d been nothing but a long dark hallway leading to this room. Certainly, no one waiting to bequeath him his money. Whipping around, he opened his mouth to complain, but the desk and old man had vanished!

The hairs rose on his nape, sending shivers scuttling down his back. He wished now he’d never heard from his dad’s lawyer. Never given in to the temptation of an easier life. Maybe, he’d give some of the money to help those like himself, guys down on their luck. Yeah, that’s what he would do.

Feeling better already, Hank strode across the room and swung the door open, only to fall back in shock. “Fa… father?” he whispered.

His dad held out his hands, his body backlit with flames. “Come, son, you’re one of us now.”

The choices we make in life
are ones that will follow
in death.
So, choose wisely, my friend,
that you will see Heaven
instead of Hell.
~~

Jacquie may be reached here …

Blog: Jacquie Biggar- USA Today Best-Selling Author

On TWITTER

Books On Amazon.Com

Thank you so much for stopping by. I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

I may be contacted here …

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‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ Week #37) Entry Part 9) by Mark Bierman @mbiermanauthor #IARTG #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #FlashFiction

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to PART 9) of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021”  Week #37.

Today I’m featuring a contribution by Mark Bierman.

 I set the following Challenge:

Hello everyone and welcome to my new “Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Each week I’ll be featuring an image and inviting you to write a Flash Fiction or Non-Fiction piece inspired by that image in any format and genre of your choosing.  Maximum word count: 750 words.

Here is the image prompt and Mark’s contribution.

“You hear that?” Mandy twisted her red locks into coils. Her wide-eyed expression moved her freckles, like dozens of islands shifted by an earthquake.

Dan put his ear against the door.

“Careful! What do you hear?”

“Chewing.” An icicle lodged in his spine.

“What? Dan Beamish! I can’t take it any longer! I’m calling Mom and Dad! I want to go home! George Binks was right, this place is haunted!”

“My gosh!” Dan jumped back. His jaw became a flag in the wind.

“Stop blubbering, out with it! You’re scaring me!”

“You should be.”

“Stop it!” Mandy’s eyes were red. It reminded Dan of the time he’d drew mustaches on her Barbies, with permanent marker. “Tell Uncle Bill! He’ll know what to do. He’ll call Mom and Dad to pick us up!”

“Don’t be such a wimp. Don’t you want to see what it is? Maybe it’s a Snog, just like in one of your silly books. Besides, Uncle Bill is away this afternoon. Mom and Dad are in the Bahamas.”

“I’m NOT a wimp, you’re just stupid! My books are NOT silly. Snogs are NOT real. Whatever’s in there, is! We should wait until Uncle Bill returns.”

“Get me something to defend myself.”

Mandy crossed her arms and scowled at her older brother. He was stubborn, just like his father, that’s what Mom said. Mom’s always right about Dan. She sighed. “Fine, there’s a croquette mallet in the hall closest.” She stomped down the ancient steps. Stupid, old, haunted house. Why couldn’t they’ve gone to Aunt Rita’s cottage on the beach? Oh, because Danny the Pansy was allergic to the sand. Whoever heard of such a thing?

She returned with the mallet to find Dan testing the doorknob.

Mandy performed a fake curtsy and handed the mallet over. “You’re lance, noble knight.”

Dan rolled his eyes. He counted to three, via the scenic route. “Two and a quarter, two and a half, two and three quarters, three!” He charged in screaming, mallet raised overhead, Brave Heart style.

Something large ran through what could only be described as a trash bin. Dan looked around, shocked by the mess. Uncle was a neat freak, but this was an episode of Hoarders.

Wind gusted through an open window. Papers blew across a desk and onto a floor that could have been hardwood. A huge lump moved underneath the pile, heading straight for him! A terrible hissing and growling came from the thing.

Dan’s arms lost feeling and the mallet struck his knee as it dropped. He was nailed to the floor.

“Dan! Get out!”

He tried to back away, but tripped on a power cord, that brought him and a desk computer, crashing to the floor.

A yellowed New York Times paper, a foot from his face, burst off the floor, to reveal a hideous nightmare of bloody teeth and fur.

The eyes were blacker than the pavement, velociraptor sharp claws, and a hiss like a thousand water snakes. It stood on it’s hind legs, belly fur covered in blood. The thing was about to rip him apart! His mind flashed back to all those nature shows he’d watched. What to do? Run . . . seriously? Play dead? No, he’d be dead. Act submissive, lower your eyes and bow your head . . . quick! He raised himself to a kneel and bowed, face to the floor. It was terrifying, exposing the back of his neck.

“Dan! What are you doing! Have you lost your mind?”

“Showing respect. Being submissive.”

It didn’t work. The thing hissed and moved towards him. Dan could feel and smell its hot and stinky breath . This was it, his life for hers. “Go, Mandy! Run! It wants me and you can still get away!”

The beast moved closer, coming in for the kill bite, just like a lion. It would be a less painful way to die.

Dan was ready too.

Something swept past his head. The creature let out a squeal and then began to whimper, as it fled.

“You rascal!” Uncle Bill yelled.

His new favorite uncle held a broom, as he chased the thing out the window. He shut the window, turned towards them and said, “Blasted racoon. Should have closed the window. Got into my bowl of ravioli again!” He held up an empty can of Chef Boyardee’s “finest” pasta. He looked embarrassed.

Dan smacked his head when he noticed the “blood”’ matched the color of the pasta sauce.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mark can be reached here …

Twitter

Blog Mark Bierman Adventures in Writing

Amazon.com

***

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Thank you so much for stopping by. Your comments are always appreciated.

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ Week #37 Entry Part 8) by Kirsten Nairn @KirstenNairn #FlashFiction #WritingPrompt #WritingCommunity

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to Part 8)  of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021” Week #37..

Today I’m featuring contributions from entry Part 8) By Kirsten Nairn

Last week I set the following Challenge:

Hello everyone and welcome to my new “Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Each week I’ll be featuring an image and inviting you to write a Flash Fiction or Non-Fiction piece inspired by that image in any format and genre of your choosing.  Maximum word count: 750 words.

Here is the image prompt and Kirsten’s contribution.

Joules took a deep breath before knocking. Number 13! She wasn’t superstitious, but this felt like she was tempting fate and would remind her every day of her miserable life; a failed relationship (it seemed Christopher preferred skinny blondes after all), no job (how was she to know the audition for Frida the musical was about Frida Kahlo and not Frida Lyngstad of Abba fame?), and now homeless.

A movement caught her eye. A black cat with emerald eyes was staring up at her. More sodding bad luck, she muttered, as she knocked at the door.

‘Joules. You’re here at last! I’m so excited. We’re going to be flat mates again! And you’ve met Lucifer already!’ Lucy rubbed the cat under the chin. He meowed loudly and walked past her, into the flat

‘Lucifer?’

‘Yes. He turned up last week and seems to have adopted me. Lucifer seemed the perfect name for him. I think he must be stray, but he’s so gorgeous I couldn’t leave him to roam the streets, alone and afraid.’

Joules wasn’t convinced about Lucifer’s inability to handle himself on the mean streets of Edinburgh’s Morningside.

‘I’ll make us some tea. I’ve created lots of new blends for you try. I’ve got St John’s Wort for depression, Valerian Root for insomnia, Chamomile for anxiety.’

Bloody hell, was this how Lucy saw her? Was she just another stray, like Lucifer?

‘I’m more of a Tetley girl remember? I brought my own in case you didn’t have any.’

Lucy picked the teabag up by the corner and dropped it, with distaste, into the mug.

‘Well perhaps I can do you a potion instead? You’ll need to become familiar with them if you’re to help me sell them. Actually, I’ve developed a special valentine’s potion with Cinnamon, Damiana and Goksuhura. We’ll be pushing this at the stall on Saturday. I can’t wait!’

Joules groaned inwardly. This was the price of a free room. ‘Lovely,’ she smiled.

Saturday came around soon enough and Joules found herself at ‘Au Natural’, the much-coveted annual Festival, manning the stall, alongside other new agers selling their wares. She hoped the pungent smell of patchouli from the neighbouring stall would put people off, but no! It seemed people were more in need of a little ‘help’ than she’d anticipated.

‘So, is this all it’s cracked up to be?’ a deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

She looked up, straight into clear emerald eyes resting under a mop of jet black hair. He was reading the ingredients on the Valentine’s packaging.

‘Yes. I believe so. I mean, I haven’t actually tried it, but I’m assured it does the trick.’

‘And what is that exactly? The trick?’

‘Well, it helps your, err, partner, to be a little more… enthusiastic.’

‘Ah right. And how does that work exactly? What do I do with it? Drink it? Rub it on? Is it for me or the lucky lady?’

‘Well, I’m not quite sure about the exact science behind it but I guess it acts in the same way as oysters, although with less gagging. Lucy there is the developer, so she can give you more detail if you like.

‘And what are her credentials then?’

Joules paused. ‘She’s a white witch if you must know. Don’t laugh. She’s no weirder than anyone else here. I mean, which muppet came up with the concept for this. Au Natural, a natural magnet for the world’s weirdos. I blame Harry Potter myself. I haven’t the heart to tell her it’s all codswallop.’

He raised his eyebrows, a smirk forming at the corner of his mouth. ‘Quite. Unusual branding though-No 13?’

‘Well, she says it’s something about dispelling superstitions.’

‘You haven’t actually told me if it’s for me to take or the lucky lady?’

‘I’ve no idea. Why don’t you buy two sachets- one for yourself and one for the lucky lady and see what happens?’

‘Yes, why not? Because I like pissing my hard-earned money away, but if it does the job, then it’s money well spent.’

Transaction completed, he held out his hand. ‘I’m Louie by the way, the muppet who came up with the concept for Au Natural. Nice meeting you.’

Her jaw dropped as she watched him disappear into the crowd.

Joules was exhausted when she returned to the flat. She pushed at the door and noticed the distinctive Valentine’s package trapped underneath it, with a note.

To Joules, the Dark Witch at number 13. Fancy giving it a try?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Follow Kirsten Nairn on 

facebook https://www.facebook.com/Kirsten-Nairn-1886899944963399/

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Amazon: https://www.amazon A sorry Affair

***

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‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ Week #37. Entry Part 7) by Karen Ingalls @KIngallsAuthor #IARTG #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #FlashFiction

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to Part 7)  of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021.” Week #37.

Today I’m featuring contributions from Karen Ingalls Entry 7).

Last week I set the following Challenge:

Hello everyone and welcome to my new “Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Each week I’ll be featuring an image and inviting you to write a Flash Fiction or Non-Fiction piece inspired by that image in any format and genre of your choosing.  Maximum word count: 750 words.

Here is the image prompt and Karen’s contribution.

Karen says …

SOME CORNY KNOCK KNOCK JOKES

KNOCK. KNOCK
WHO’S THERE?
SOOOZ
SOOOZ WHO?
SOOOZING IN BED

KNOCK, KNOCK
WHO’S THERE?
MARK
MARK WHO?
MARKING MY SPOT WITH AN X

KNOCK, KNOCK
WHO’S THERE?
JACQUIE
JACQUIE WHO?
JACQUIEING UP MY CAR

KNOCK, KNOCK
WHO’S THERE?
MAE
MAE WHO?
MAEBE, I SHOULD STOP WRITING THESE JOKES!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Karen may be reached here …

Karen Ingalls Blog.

On Twitter:

Karen Ingalls Author Page Amazon

On Facebook

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‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ Week #37 Part 6) by Gwen Plano @gmplano #IARTG #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompt #FlashFiction

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to PART 6)  of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021.”  Week #37.

Today I’m featuring a contribution by  Gwen Plano.

Last week I set the following Challenge:

Hello everyone and welcome to my new “Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Each week I’ll be featuring an image and inviting you to write a Flash Fiction or Non-Fiction piece inspired by that image in any format and genre of your choosing.  Maximum word count: 750 words.

Here’s the image prompt and the contribution by Gwen Plano.

APARTMENT 13 … or NOT

“What do you mean you fixed it?”

“Let’s just say, I took care of it. Trust me, Louise.”

“I trust you. It’s just that I’m curious. I don’t understand how you could have fixed it. You know what people say about that apartment.”

“I don’t believe such rubbish.”

“But others do, Bob, and they’ll be afraid to visit.” Her voice rising out of pure frustration.

“That’s why I fixed it!”

“Okay, enough of this. We’ll see.”

They turned the corner of the building and entered the refurbished apartment structure. Another couple hurried past them as they approached the elevator door.

“Second floor, right?”

“Yeah, second floor.”

She punched the elevator button and looked at the apartment list. There was no number 13. She looked over to Bob. “What did you do?”

“Nothing really. The one and three are still there. No harm done.”

“But, but where’s our apartment?”

“It’s there. I promise. It’s there.”

The elevator stopped abruptly at the second floor and the two walked down the long hall to their new apartment. Standing in front of the door, she hesitated. At first, she didn’t notice it, but then a smile stretched across her face. Turning she gave Robert a huge hug.

“You know I love you right?” 

some doors are just doors
others open to magic
maybe it’s our choice

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gwen Plano can be reached here …

Reflections on Life … Blog.

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Thank you so much for stopping by. I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

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‘Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021.’ Week #37 Entry Part 5) By D.L.Finn @dlfinnauthor #IARTG #WritingPrompts #FlashFiction #WritingCommunity

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to Part 5) of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021.  Week #37.

Today I’m featuring a contribution By D L Finn.

Last week I set the following Challenge:

Hello everyone and welcome to my new “Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Each week I’ll be featuring an image and inviting you to write a Flash Fiction or Non-Fiction piece inspired by that image in any format and genre of your choosing.  Maximum word count: 750 words.

Here is the image prompt and D.L.Finns contribution.

Denise says, “I’m using the Haibun Poem format, which is a combination of a prose paragraph and a Haiku/Senryu.”

THE DOOR

I grasped the small brass key tightly in my hand. The wooden door was now within my reach. It was the opening to the dreaded thirteenth colony. This is the place they sent people who asked too many questions. I glanced back into the darkness of what had been my existence. There had been no tears shed, and no one had stayed to say goodbye. I accepted I was no longer a part of their lives. My hand shook as I inserted the key and heard the click. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open. Vivid colors and a warm glow welcomed me into a place of beauty where my mother was waiting. Smiling, I shut the door on a world of fools.

Stepping into light

Leaving the dark cave behind

I found my answer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

D.L.Finn can be reached here …

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Thanks so much for stopping by! I look forward to reading your comments.

I can be reached here …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

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