‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ Week #36 Entry Part 1) by John Howell @HowellWave and Part 2) by Suzanne Burke @pursoot #IARTG #WritingCommunity #FlashFiction #WritingPrompts

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to Parts 1) and 2) of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021.  Week #36
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.

vasilios-muselimis-S7avQRg8ZLI-unsplash

This one-line contribution by John Howell.

“I’ll accept that you painted my van as part of your history project, son, but you’re still grounded.”

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.

vasilios-muselimis-S7avQRg8ZLI-unsplash

Déjà Vu

“So, Mark, what’s he like?”

“My grandpa is awesome. I think you’ll like him.”

“He doesn’t mind me joining you guys for the summer?”

“He’s the one who suggested I bring you. He’s all excited about a project he wants our help with, and he’s looking forward to meeting you.” Mark smiled as he pulled round out front, “He’s waiting for us!”

Linda wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it surely wasn’t the fit and tanned old guy with shoulder length white hair who was striding down the driveway with arms outstretched to greet them.

Mark was swept into a welcoming hug, and then the man’s attention turned to her. He extended a hand with a smile, “Welcome to our home, Linda. Please come on inside, my wife has prepared lunch for everyone.”

Linda flashed him a grateful smile, “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Hanlon.”

“None of this ‘Mr. Hanlon’ stuff. Just call me Alan, okay?

“Okay … Alan.”

***

Delia Hanlon was as welcoming as her husband. The woman was tiny and frail looking until you caught the gleam of fire in her eyes and heard her unrestrained laughter. This house carried joy within it walls. Linda was happy to be included in it.

The men cleared the table after the meal. Delia headed into the bedroom for a nap, and the conversation turned to the project she and Mark would be helping with.

Alan’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he stood and beckoned them over to the glass doors.

“Come on outside. There’s something I want to show you.”

They reached the balcony and Mark stopped in his tracks, “Oh, my God! Grandpa, you found it! Is this the van you always talked about?”

“It surely is. I’ve been searching for so long I’d given up any hope of finding it again. Then I got a call from a junkyard in Cleveland. The guy who’d bought it had passed away and his son had put it up for sale. Long story short, it’s ours again! Isn’t she a beauty?”

“She’s our project? Is that the original paint job you and your friends did? Does the engine still work?” The questions tumbled out in his excitement.

“Yup that’s our project. The Germans really built this baby to last. That’s our original artwork. She needs some panel work, and the wiring, headlight, and fender need fixing, plus I want it made more comfortable inside for your grandmother.”

“When are you planning on leaving?”

“It’s not a long drive from here, but I want to take it slowly. We need to be there by 3.30 A.M, August 18th.

“That will have been my Dad’s fifty first birthday.”

“Yes, son. Your grandmother and I want to revisit that place. We want to honor both the memory of his birth and the event that changed our culture forever. We were so proud to be a small part of that.”

“I’m sorry about the loss of your father, Mark, and your son, Alan. What event are you referring to?”

“Woodstock Music Festival.” Both the Hanlon men answered together.

“Oh, my God, Alan! You and Delia were at Woodstock?”

“Yup, we sure were. Come on back inside, I’d like you to see something.”

***

The man walked across and removed a photograph album and a document from the bookcase.

He handed Linda the framed document, and she read it with awe, “Your son was born at the Woodstock music festival! “

“He was. Delia went into labor three weeks ahead of schedule, my son was born at 3.35 am on Monday August 18th, 1969. I recall that Crosby Stills Nash and Young were onstage at the time. A couple of midwives in the crowd helped us with the birth. we were so lucky that nothing went wrong. They finally got us to a hospital several hours later. You’re holding my son’s birth certificate. This is another way for us to honor his memory.”

Linda handed it back with reverence. Then she went through the photographs. Alan Hanlon pointed out several of he and his wife in the company of two other teenage couples. Linda caught the look of sadness on the man’s face.

“It’s the last time we were all together. Tommy and Keith died in Vietnam. Another reason our little pilgrimage is so important to us.”

“We’ll be sure to have the van ready, Grandpa.”

“Thank you, my boy.”

***

August 18th. 3.35 am. Woodstock: Ulster County, New York.

Delia and Alan Hanlon lit the candles and sent the red balloons skywards. Then they sat wrapped in each-other’s arms and watched the new sunrise dawn over Woodstock. They could hear the music of Crosby Stills Nash and Young coming from the van and they smiled through their tears. The music carried with it the sounds of a time and an event that forever depicted a generation.

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

I have a large collection of music from the sixties and seventies, the track I’d like to share with you was written by Joni Mitchell and is performed here on the Deja Vu album by Crosby Stills Nash and Young.

Enjoy WOODSTOCK.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ Week #34 Entry Part 1) by John Howell @howellwave and Suzanne Burke @pursoot #IARTG #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to Part 1)  of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021.  Week #34.
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.

elephant-2380009_1280

This one-line contribution by John Howell.

“Mama. What does the elephant in the room mean?”

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.

elephant-2380009_1280

ELEPHANTS.

Extinction. Level. Event. Protected. Habitat. Animal. Nursery. Transition. Stage. Identity #R47. 2046.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please be seated. What you are about to witness is an historic moment. Your questions will be answered after the demonstration. For now, I ask that you utilize the ear pieces set for each of you and simply watch and … listen.

***

“Move into the water, my son. There is nothing to harm you here. We will drink, and cool ourselves, then we’ll move into the depths of the shadows come nightfall.”

“Will there be others in the shadows, mother? Will there be more males of our kind?”

“Only in the memories we have of them, before they perished. I haven’t seen another male since my father was murdered when I was very young.”

“I don’t understand it. Did the Great Mother ordain it to be so?”

“The Great Mother of all things gave us droughts and flooding rains, but she never handed us more than what our kind could recover from. This was not in her plan. Your great-great grandmother shared her stories of survival with us, she spoke often of the times before our world changed.”

The young male heard the cry in her voice, “Was it so different then?”

“Yes, my son. For she spoke of our kind stretching in herds across the veld as far as the eye could see. She spoke of the dust clouds they caused simply because of their numbers. She shared her memory of the herd searching for water in the midst of the great drought, she laughed at the happy thoughts that finding it caused her. There was time made for play and celebration. Their only predator back then were the hunters, they came looking to inflate their ego’s by felling the largest animal on the planet. The killed many of our kind, but not in numbers sufficient to threaten our existence as a species.”

“Was it the ones you call poachers? Did they cause this event to come about?”

“They are directly responsible. They did not hunt for sport. They did not hunt to save their own offspring from starvation, they trapped our males and butchered them after only the tusks of Ivory. They hunted from Greed.”

“What is Greed?”

“It is when someone takes far more than they’ll ever need to survive. They would kill and keep on killing because there were others of their species prepared to pay them for the precious ivory.”

“So, this Greed is a human trait?”

“It appears that way, I know of no other animal that kills unless it is necessary to protect and feed themselves or their offspring. It seems that is reserved for the human-kind.”

“Aren’t these humans the same as the ones who are now trying to save us?”

“Yes, they are. I’m beginning to learn that this Greed thing is not present throughout their entire species. Our caregivers are proof of that. They appear to have made the survival of our species their life’s work.”

“But why?”

“I think it may be partly born from guilt that their own kind had brought us to extinction. It weighs heavily upon their collective conscience. But more than that I believe they want to return their world to a time before the innocence was lost forever. They cling to a belief that man can and must learn from his mistakes.”

“Is it only our kind that have reached extinction level?”

The young male watched the tears slide from her eyes as she shook her head, “No, son. There are many others.”

“Can they hope to save all of them?”

“They live with that hope. I’ve seen it in their faces as they’ve watched you grow.”

“You told me I was not born of your body. I don’t understand that. You see me as your son though. I know it.”

“You are known as a replicant in their language. I only know that when they brought you to me you had yet to take your first independent breath of air. It was I who helped you to stand for the first time. Your diet was supplemented by the humans but you became my son from that moment and forever after.”

“I’m thankful, mother.”

“As am I, my child.

***

“Question time, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Those voices we heard they were some sort of voice over app. Yes?”

“No, sir. We now have the capability of listening to them and translating what they communicate into a language we can recognize.”

“Are they aware of that?”

“They are an intelligent species. I believe that they do know.”

“How many more Replicants like this one exist?”

“This one is number 47. We still have a long way to go before Elephants can be removed from the Extinction Level Event category.”’

“The world will now be watching and waiting.”

“They have always watched and waited. We need them to do more than that. We need them to pray.”

~~~

Edmund burke

Find me at …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

By Email.

 

 

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ New Image Prompt #Week 34. Join in the fun! #IARTG #FlashFiction #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts @pursoot

Hello everyone and welcome to my weekly “Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021″  WEEK #34.

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 or email it to me at My email address. by ,DEADLINE: 4pm EDT on Thursday, February 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.

elephant-2380009_1280

Image by Comfreak from Pixabay

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

Find me at …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

By Email.

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ Week #33 Entry Part 5) by Harmony Kent @harmony_kent #IARTG #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #FlashFiction

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to PART 5)  of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021. Week #33.

Today I’m featuring a contribution by Harmony Kent.

 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 Harmony’s Contribution.

pexels-artem-saranin-2770371

Ocean of Existence

I always thought that death by drowning would be peaceful. I don’t know why. Perhaps all those depictions in movies where the victim drifts serenely down into the dark depths, arms suspended in the water above, and wrists and fingers limp, led me into the lie.

My death didn’t happen like that. Not in the slightest.

The tangerine sky, susurration of the surf, and waves lapping and caressing the protruding rocks awed me and lulled me into a false sense of security and wellbeing.

If you ever get the silly notion to go for a midnight swim after you’ve had a few, my advice to you is DON’T DO IT.

Near paralytic, I could barely stand and stumble-staggered through the sand. The cold dampness of it made my toes curl. My head spun and nausea lurched and roiled. I thought, vaguely, that the shock of the icy water would clear my head. Sober me up. I suppose it did, in a way. Eventually. But by then it was too late. By then my number was up.

I wasn’t stupid enough to go to the beach alone, you understand. But my mates thought I was messing about. They didn’t realise I was drowning, you see. Just ditzy Daisy having a lark.

At first it felt great. Bloody freezing, but I’d forgotten my dizziness. And I no longer felt like throwing up or passing out. The trouble came when I tried to wade back to the shore. The beach lay so close that I could feel the rough scratch and sting of pebbles beneath my feet. Another misconception … that you need to get out of your depth to drown.

The sea didn’t want to let go of me. Each time I stumbled forward through the increasingly rough surf, the undertow yanked me back. I lost my footing. The tide took me. Salt water and sand scoured my skin and burned my throat. Half blinded, and coughing and retching, I struggled to lift my head through the surface and drag in air. Over and over, the waves crashed on top of me. Tossed and tumbled me. Pummelled and ripped my scanty dress from my body. My bra went. It all went. Even layers of skin in places I’d rather not mention.

Once more, I broke the surface, sucked in blissful breath, and then I screamed. My drunk friends hollered and whistled and whooped. But I wasn’t playing, I was drowning. And then I lost the lung power to shout.

Get out. Get out. Get out get out get out. The urgent imperative did me no good. The tangy seaweed-taste of the salt water, the impossible weight of the waves, the crushing pressure in my chest, and the abject terror—I remember it all. Even then, it hadn’t dawned on me that I was dying. I was fighting. I was afraid to die, certainly, but had not comprehended the direness of my situation. The nearness of my imminent peril.

All I knew was that I had to get out of the sea and gain firm ground beneath my feet. But the ocean maintained its wave rhythm mercilessly. In the vast unutterable power of Mother Nature, a mere slip of a girl is nothing. An insignificant dew drop slipping into the  night-dark sea … unremarked. The lack of malice, the inexorability of the thing, is what struck the terror into my heart. My mind. It was then I understood I was going to die. Was dying already.

As soon as that devastating realisation sank in, I lost my mind. Cast off any sense of humanity. Became a panicked beast … fighting, fighting, fighting. The inevitability of my death left room for nothing else. The spectre of my demise became my whole reality. And the pressure of that awful certainty destroyed me. I gave up. Accepted the futility.

And still, I can’t label the ease of acceptance as peace. Nor the blanket of euphoria as joy. The closest I can come is to tell you that I disappeared. The individual who was me dissolved. The whole universe became one … back to that dewdrop slipping into the sea. And there was such relief in that.

Then came absence. No bright light or spiritual presence heralded my arrival at the other side.

Image by mikegi from Pixabay

Days later, I woke up. A ventilator breathed for me. An hour more and they would have switched it off, convinced of my brain death. The universe had other ideas. Medics and nurses patted one another on the back and rejoiced.

Not I.

Never again shall I presume to assume that a mere mortal has any control over life or death. Nor power over this great and wondrous Earth. We can rant and rave and choose sides. Pretend grave division. However, like it or not, even alone we are all one. The same life animates these argumentative hearts and minds. The same drive to thrive and survive. It doesn’t matter what affiliations or beliefs you have, nor your colour—be that black, brown, yellow, pink, white, blue, or red, or even green. And when the final reckoning comes, the ocean of existence will not discriminate. Sooner or later, the sun goes down, and we sink back into the waters of life from whence we came.

© Harmony Kent 2021

CONTACT HARMONY HERE …

Website: https://harmonykent.co.uk and Story Empire (Co-authored)

Harmony’s Amazon Author Page: author.to/HarmonysBooks

Twitter: @harmony_kent

LinkedIn: Harmony

Goodreads: Author Page

***

I can be reached here …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

By Email.

Thanks so much for stopping by! I’d love to hear your thoughts. I’ll be posting further entries as they are received.

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ Week #31. Entry Part 5) by Anita Dawes @jaydawes2 #IARTG #WritingPrompts #WritingComminity #FlashFiction

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to Entry PART 5) for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021.” Week #31.

Today I’m featuring a contribution from by Anita Dawes & Jaye Marie.

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.pexels-todd-trapani-1690405

The clock strikes the midnight hour
Birds sing in this snow filled empty space
Soon, smiling faces shall play there
For the next hour,
ghosts hold sway over this space
Laughing, remembering their days in the sun
Now snow, cold bites at their white fingers
Their laughter louder,
knocking snow from the leaves
Wind sweeps through the trees
Joining in their merriment
Hear, tiny voices can be heard
A whisper, will you remember us…

© anita dawes 2021

Contact Anita Dawes and Jaye Marie Here .

Anita Dawes and Jaye Marie BLOG

The Author on AMAZON

on TWITTER

Thanks so much for stopping by. I’ll be posting more entries as I receive them.

Find me at …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

By Email.

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ Week #31 Entry Part 3) by Karen Ingalls @KIngallsAuthor #IARTG #WritingCommunity #FlashFiction

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to Part 3)  of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021.” Week #31.
Today I’m featuring a contribution from Karen Ingalls
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.

pexels-todd-trapani-1690405

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

Karen may be reached here …

Karen Ingalls Blog.

On Twitter:

Karen Ingalls Author Page Amazon

On Facebook

***

I can be reached here …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

By Email.

Thanks so much for stopping by! I’ll be featuring further contributions as I receive them.

	

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ Week #31 Entry Part 3) by by Harmony Kent @harmony_kent #IARTG #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #FlashFiction

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to PART 3)  of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021. Week #31.

Today I’m featuring a contribution by Harmony Kent.

 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 Harmony’s Contribution.

pexels-todd-trapani-1690405

Beacon in the Dark

The snow lays pristine, virgin. The heavy silence holds. The whole world wrapped in a blanket of cold and desolation. Or is that just my heart?

The twin swings hang limp and lonely.

Mocking my empty arms.

Then … a creak. Soft and barely there. My eyes shoot to the play area. But nothing has changed.

Now, the gleeful cry of a child flying high … higher than she’s ever swung before. Am I hearing things? Have I, at last, lost my feeble mind? I blink back the tears and fold my arms to ward off the cold … the horror.

I shouldn’t have come back here.

It’s a mistake.

Gently, the empty swings rock and creak in a breeze … that isn’t there.

I stare.

Footprints dimple the snow.

Leather shows through a circular thaw—the perfect size for a young girl’s bottom. And the second seat copies its twin. As in life, so in death. Tears stream and sting down my icy skin. Even in my disbelief, my heart warms. Thaws.

Can it be?

Have my dear departed come back to me?

At some point, I find myself on my knees, half-sunk into the soft snow. My bones ache in tandem with the throb of my hurt heart. My thin nightdress clings to my chill-damp flesh. The daylight fades to grey, and a harsh downdraft promises another blizzard. The dead place inside my ribcage calls for the whiteout that the storm will bring. A clean slate … if only I could forget. But, no, how could I ever wish for my memories of you to fade? Oh, such sweet anguish to have known you—loved you—for four glorious years.

Full dark descends, and the snow glistens and glisters in the glow of the pregnant moon. A small hand slips into my left palm, and another on the right. I tighten my grip and hold those tiny fingers. Somewhere in the trees an owl hoots. Effortless now, I rise to my feet and wade through the deep snow, headed toward the woods.

Had I cared to look, I would have seen one set of footprints, not three.

A fresh blizzard buffets and blows. And then …

Behind, the snow lays pristine once more. The heavy silence holds, cocooned in the eye of the storm. The swings stand still, weighted with weather and sorrow.

At the tree line, a hand settles onto my shoulder. Heavy. Warm. The pressure halts my progress. A second hand joins the first, and together, they turn me to face my husband. Jack looks stricken—panicked. Then his gorgeous smile crinkles his mouth and eyes and he pulls me into his arms. Lips buried in my hair, he murmurs, ‘Come home. It will all feel better tomorrow.’

Lost in the wilderness of grief, I cling to my beacon in the dark and let him lead me home.

© Harmony Kent 2021

CONTACT HARMONY HERE …

Website: https://harmonykent.co.uk and Story Empire (Co-authored)

Harmony’s Amazon Author Page: author.to/HarmonysBooks

Twitter: @harmony_kent

LinkedIn: Harmony

Goodreads: Author Page

***

I can be reached here …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

By Email.

Thanks so much for stopping by! I’d love to hear your thoughts. I’ll be posting further entries as they are received.

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021. Week #31 Entry Part 1) by John Howell @HowellWave and Suzanne Burke @pursoot. #IARTG #WritingCommunity #FlashFiction

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to Part 1)  of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge 2021.  Week #31.
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.

pexels-todd-trapani-1690405

This one-line contribution by John Howell.

“I said we should have left earlier for the park. Like in April.”

John Howell can be reached here …

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

 Twitter:

Author Blog Fiction Favorites:

***

pexels-todd-trapani-1690405

Here is my contribution.

Leanne Carpenter awoke suddenly and sat up. Her husband Kurt responded to the unaccustomed movement and turned his worried face towards her. “Sweetheart, what is it? Are you okay?”

“Yes, darling, I’m okay. I just had the strangest dream, at least I think it was a dream.” She placed her hand on his arm, “I could feel her in the room, Kurt. I can’t explain it, but I know she was here. Our little girl wants us to go to the park, to the swings she loved so much. Please don’t look at me like that. I know it sounds crazy, but please, honey. We need to do this.”

“Oh, sweetheart. Of course, we can go to the park, if that’s what you need us to do. It’s just that you haven’t left the house now in over six months, not since Sally’s funeral, and it’s winter now, and bitterly cold.”

“I’ll dress warmly, and make us up a thermos of coffee to carry with us. I’m not sure why it’s suddenly so important, it just is.”

“I’ll make the coffee while you get dressed.”

“Thank you, my love.”

***

Kurt held tightly to his wife’s gloved hand as they seated themselves on their favorite bench nearest the swings.

Their breath frosted in the cold air. They looked out at the ice and snow covered ground, on this still, grey, silent morning. Leanne snuggled into her husband, “You were right about how cold it is, but at least there’s no wind, that always make it seem so much colder.”

Kurt placed his arm around her, “The last time we were here it was the end of summer.”

“I remember. Sally played with her friends, and we had a picnic lunch. And she squealed with delight as you pushed her on the swings. God, how she loved those swings.”

The man smiled in memory, “She always waited for the one to the right to be free, she said she was sure it went higher than the other one.”

“She used to called out to me while you pushed her, I remember the smile on her face as she said, “Look, momma, daddy’s pushing me all the way up to heaven.” The woman’s voice broke, “I need to know she’s peaceful now. I need to believe that so very badly. I have to know that the pain of the cancer is gone.”

It took a while for her husband to speak, “Tell me about the dream.”

“It was so clear in the moment. I felt her close to me, and she was happy, Kurt. I swear I could hear her laughing. I recall I had a feeling that we just had to come here. I don’t pretend to understand the why of it.”

“It gave you back to me. I was so afraid I had lost you too.”

“Darling forgive me, please. I didn’t mean to abandon you and leave you to grieve alone. It was selfish of me. I’m so sorry. I just shut down. I couldn’t face a world without her in it.”

“You’re here with me now,” he smiled. “That’s all that matters. We’ll get though it together.”

They sat quietly and sipped on the hot coffee. Neither of them needing to say more for the moment.

Kurt suddenly stiffened, and sat forward. Leanne followed his gaze. “Oh, my sweet Lord!”

Sally’s favorite swing had begun to move without assistance. The couple held each other close as it swung ever higher.

Tears poured down their faces as the sun broke through the grey of the morning. They could hear Sally’s wonderful laughter and the sound of her voice comforted them, “Look, momma, daddy’s pushing me all the way up to heaven.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks so much for joining me here today. I look forward to seeing your comments. I will as always featuring each new contribution as I receive them.

I may be reached here …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

By Email.

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge’ Week #28 Entry Part 5) by Jacquie Biggar @jacqbiggar #IARTG #FlashFiction #WritingPrompts #WritingCommunity

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to Entry PART 5) for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week #28.

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.

signpost-5274077_1920

And They’re Off

We’d been driving for what felt like hours, when truthfully, the clock said it was barely noon. Still, I’d been waiting for this day forever, and now that it was here, I couldn’t wait to get there.

I glanced out the back window of the truck for the hundredth time, hardly believing the shiny red Mustang we were hauling was mine.

“You sure you’re up for it?” my dad asked, sending me a grin that lit up his face and added deep crinkles around his green eyes.

“Are you kidding?” I puffed out my chest, wishing it was as broad and strong as his. “I’m going to take that trophy home, Dad. Wait and see.”

We’d been working on the sports car for three years now. Dad bought it as a project- something to doodle with on the weekends. Before long, I was racing home from school and begging him to put some extra time into the old girl. No one believed me when I told them I owned a ’69 Mustang Mach I (well, me and Dad), but they would have to believe it after today. Journalists and TV crews would be on site to record the event and Dad had reluctantly agreed to let me drive. I was about to become the cool kid- for once.

The mile 97 marker flew by and Dad slowed and signaled to the right as a pitted asphalt road appeared between two sandy hills dotted with mesquite bushes.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” I asked, staring at the barren landscape.

“They’ve held the race here for twenty years,” he replied. “It’s right. You know, it’s not too late to back out. We could go home, light up the barbeque…”

“No, Dad. I want to do this. Please.” I hid my fisted hands in my jacket, not wanting him to think I was nervous, though my pulse raced.

“Okay, Son. Just remember what I told you-“

“I know. First is fine, but fifth will fly.” I grinned to let him see I was fine. It was going to be great. It was only a quarter mile, what could go wrong?

***

Lined up at the start line with screaming engines on either side of me and the stench of burning rubber filling my lungs, I felt the first real moment of panic. Maybe I’d made a mistake. The other drivers had years of experience over me- matter of fact it was all the journalists could harp on- stressing me and my dad out when we needed to be concentrating on that bright red and white fence blocking the road. We’d been warned not to go past the road closed sign, not that it should be a problem, the race ended far short of there.

A few seconds from now and it would be over.

Three.

Two.

One.

Go.

The flag waved and we were off in a streak of glory, flying down the road with motors roaring, the sun shining, and the thrill coursing through my veins. My hand and foot coordination that I’d been practicing for so long, paid off. I zipped into second and started to gain on the lead car. Third gear, I made it even with his back tire. Fourth and I was climbing up on the passenger door. I glanced across and met a dark, resolute gaze and knew I had to move fast or he would be gone.

I gave her more gas and counted in my head as the revs climbed. Almost there. Almost… slamming my foot onto the clutch, I smoothly shifted to fifth and held on as the monster under the hood was unleashed.

The other car disappeared but I didn’t even care anymore, too caught up in the euphoric feeling of flying. We became one with the wind, the earth little more than a brown blur sliding past the side windows. I couldn’t believe we’d done it, Dad and I. We’d built a fire-breathing dragon and she had destroyed the competition.

I threw my head back and laughed, giddy with joy. No one was going to call me lamebrain or douchebag again. I’d shown them. Next week I planned to…

Bam. The car slammed through the fence, splintering the boards like toothpicks. The journalists froze, their mouths dropping open comically as the red Mustang took air and flipped end for end, over and over until it finally plowed into the gravel pile at the end of the road.

Dust rose and even from a distance it was easy to see no one could have survived. The boy’s dad let out an anguished cry, like that of a wounded animal, and started toward the car at an uneven gait that soon became a desperate marathon of hope. Emergency personal followed, some on foot, some in eerily silent cars, the exhilaration of the day gone, filled instead with horror and empathy for the father who’d lost his boy.

A month later, a write-up of the event and the death of one of its own was highlighted on the front page of the paper and the high school mourned along with the family. Kids talked about the quiet boy who loved to spend time on the weekends with his father working on cars, and never again did anyone call him a lamebrain.

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

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. The new prompt image will go up today.

I may be contacted here …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

By Email.

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge’ Week #22 Entry 3) by Karen Ingalls @KIngallsAuthor #IARTG #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #FlashFiction

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to Part 3)  of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week #22.
Today I’m featuring a contribution from Entry 3) By Karen Ingalls
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 Tanka.

marc-schaefer-J4bugcA2Vwg-unsplash

THE BINDER IS OLD
JUST AS I AM ALSO OLD
WE ARE BOTH WORN OUT
TATTERED, TIRED YET EMBRACED
BY STRAPS OR YOUR LOVING ARMS.
 
OUR SKINS ARE WRINKLED
TORN, FRAGILE, SCARRED, YET HOLDING
US TOGETHER WHILE
HIDING SECRETS, LIES, AND DREAMS
NEVER REVEALED TO OTHERS.
 
NOW THAT I HAVE PASSED,
ONLY GOD’S JUDGEMENT MATTERS
BUT I PRAY YOU WILL
LOVE ME WITHOUT CONDITION
ACCEPTING MY HUMANNESS.
 
READ THE WORN PAGES
KNOWING THEY COME FROM MY HEART
WHILE BARING MY SOUL
     SO YOU WILL KNOW WHO I WAS
STILL LOVING, ACCEPTING ME.
 
WHEN YOU CREMATE ME,
DO THE SAME TO THE BINDER
PUTTING OUR ASHES
 IN THE GROUND OF THE OAK TREE
TOGETHER, FOREVER MORE.
~~~~~

Karen may be contacted here …

Karen Ingalls Blog.

On Twitter:

Karen Ingalls Author Page Amazon

On Facebook

***

I can be reached here …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

By Email.

Thanks so much for stopping by! I’ll be featuring further contributions as I receive them.