‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge’ Week #6 Entries 4-5. @JanSikes3 @gmplano #IARTG #ASMSG #WritingCommunity.

Flash Fiction best header

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to PART 2 of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week #6.

Today I’m featuring contributions from  4) Jan Sikes and 5) Gwen Plano. Week #7 prompt will be featured here tomorrow.

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.

FREE FRAMED IMAGE OF BABY AND DADDY SLEEPING WEEK 6

#4 …Contributed by JAN SIKES

“I’VE GOT YOU”

I’ve got you, little one

Safe and secure

In this world filled with troubles

Heartaches and fear

Your tiny heart beats in rhythm with mine

My blood flows through your veins

Our lives forever intertwined

I’ll protect you until my very last breath

And warm you when icy winds

Threaten with the kiss of death

Yes, I’ve got you, little one

Today, tomorrow and all your days here

I’ve got you, little one

My love unshakable and sincere.

            Your Father

#

Jan can be contacted here …

All books are available at http://www.jansikes.com

Amazon

On Twitter

On Facebook

 

#5 … Contributed by Gwen Plano;

My contribution is a Haiku poem, a 3-lined poem characterized by 17 syllables. When I saw the photo, a song began playing over and over in my thoughts. My dad would sing this song and perhaps your father did as well. It begins: Hush little baby, don’t say a word; Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird

 

Gwen Plano can be reached here:

 

Reflections on Life … Blog.

Author Page: Gwen Plano on Amazon

On Twitter.

Gwen Plano on Facebook.

~~~

Thanks so much for stopping by!

Contact me at …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

The Week #7 Writing prompt will be posted tomorrow.

“Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week #6 Entries 1-3 @pursoot @KIngallsAuthor @dlfinnauthor #IARTG #ASMSG #WritingCommunity

 

Flash Fiction best header

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to PART 1 of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week 6.

Today I’m featuring contributions from Karen Ingalls and D.L. Finn as well as my own contribution. Part 2 entries 4-5 will be posted here tomorrow.

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.

#1. Contributed by Karen Ingalls.

FREE FRAMED IMAGE OF BABY AND DADDY SLEEPING WEEK 6

 FATHER AND SON

 POEM

by

KAREN INGALLS.

 

        I HOLD YOU WITH LOVE

MY HEART REJOICES

         YOU ARE A MIRACLE

 

 WE SLEEP TOGETHER

IN A SILENT RHYTHM OF BREATHES

         YOU ARE A BLESSING

 

   GOD’S LOVE EMBRACES US

ALWAYS WITH US

YOU ARE A GIFT

 

    YOUR SWEET SPIRIT

CALMS MY BEATING HEART

        YOU ARE SPECIAL

 

THIS TREASURED MOMENT

  IS ONE OF MANY TO COME

        YOU ARE MY SON

Karen Ingalls can be found on

Karen Ingalls Blog.

On Twitter:

Karen Ingalls Author Page Amazon

On Facebook

#

#2 A Haiku Contributed by D.L.Finn

FREE FRAMED IMAGE OF BABY AND DADDY SLEEPING WEEK 6

Chests rising in rhythm
A sleepy moment captured
Love’s perfection
D.L. Finn can be found here …

#3 My own Contribution;

FREE FRAMED IMAGE OF BABY AND DADDY SLEEPING WEEK 6

“I did it, Dad!”

by

Suzanne Burke.

Michael D’Angelo looked up from his laptop as his assistant knocked on the door.

“Problem, Danny?”

“Oh, no, sir. At least I don’t think so.” He handed across a large envelope, “This just came for you.”

Michael looked at the envelope for a brief moment. “Thanks, Danny. It’s from my father.” He flicked a glance at his watch, “What time are we leaving?”

“We need you to be ready to go in just over an hour.”

“Okay, can do. Uh, Danny, I’m taking a moment. Can you see I’m not disturbed?”

The man nodded and left the office.

Mike looked at the handwriting again. He’d be seeing his father in just a few short hours, so why this? A photograph slid out onto the desk as he opened the envelope. Mike picked it up. “What the? How have I never seen this one?” There was a letter waiting, and Mike’s hands shook a little as he opened it.

Hello, Mikey.

Now I know this is gonna seem strange, and maybe it is, but I needed to say some stuff now and it’s too important to risk me freezing up when I try to say it out loud later. So, I’m writing them down as they come to me.

I took that photograph of you sleeping with my newborn grandson.  I kept this picture framed on my desk down at the precinct. It was such a huge milestone in your life. I was privileged to be around to see it happen. I recognized the moment and I cherished it. But did I ever tell you that? I should have.

I was there when you took your own first steps, you tottered towards my outstretched arms and giggled with delight when you made it! You had a smile that your mother swore could melt ice cubes, and then there was the other smile that you shared only with me. I always called it your ‘I did it, Dad’ grin.

It surfaced often in those early years as you added other firsts to your journey. Do you remember the day I got called down to the school because you’d been in a fight? Man, your left eye had some black and blue shiner in the making. The principal sat me down and laid out the facts. “Michael was witnessed to strike James McGuire. We have strict rules about violence here. Now, if Michael will apologize to James and the McGuire family, we’ll avoid suspending him.”

I looked at you and recognized something in the set of your jaw as you spoke up, “I’m sorry, sir. I’m afraid I can’t do that. Not unless McGuire apologizes to the little kid from the special needs class that he had shoved up against the lockers. He’s only nine-years-old, sir! If McGuire does that, I’ll apologize.”

You got suspended for two weeks. I took you out for burger and fries and tried to look stern while we celebrated. You gave me that smile. But did I say the words ‘I’m proud of you for standing up for what you believe in?’ I should have.

That kinda brings us over the mountains and the milestones that time hands us, to today. I love you my son and I’m proud of you. I’ll say that to you a little later.

Dad.

Mike shook his head and took a deep breath. Then he composed himself and dressed ready for the afternoon ahead.

***

Frank D’Angelo stood alongside his eighteen-year-old grandson. They held onto each other’s hands tightly as Michael Thomas D’Angelo was sworn in by The Chief Justice as the new Attorney General of the United States of America.

Frank cried as his boy flashed him his ‘I did it, dad.’ Smile.

He applauded with the others.

Mike hugged his son and his mother then turned to his dad, “Can you say it now, dad?”

“I’m so very proud of you, my son.”

Mike pulled him into a man hug. “It goes both ways, dad. So, let me get this formal stuff out of the way. Then you want burgers and fries?”

His father laughed, “You buying?”

“You know it. Let’s go celebrate our way.”

#

 

Thanks so much for stopping by. I’ll take this opportunity to wish all my American friends a safe and Memorable 4th of July 2020.

Don’t forget to drop by tomorrow for Part 2 of the entries.

The Challenge Photo-Prompt for Week #7 will be posted on Friday, July 3rd.

Contact me at …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

 

“Fiction In A Flash Challenge” Image Prompt Week #6. Join in, have fun and let the creative muse loose. @pursoot #IARTG #ASMSG #WritingCommunity

Flash Fiction best header

Hello everyone and welcome to my weekly “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 a 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 4pm EDT on Thursday, July 2nd. 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 begin sharing all entries received, and, my own contribution here on Friday, July 3rd.

Here is the week #6 Image Prompt.

FREE FRAMED IMAGE OF BABY AND DADDY SLEEPING WEEK 6

 

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 Week#5 Entries 4-5” @DLFINN @gerry1098 #IARTG #WritingCommunity

Flash Fiction best header

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to PART 2 of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week 5.

Today I’m featuring entry number #4 by D.L.Finn … And number #5 by Gerry McCullough.

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.

Please put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at My email address. by 4pm EDT on Thursday, June 25th. 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 begin sharing all entries received, and, my own contribution here on June 26th.

Here is the prompt.

flash best marionette

#4. This Contribution by D.L.Finn

INVISIBLE STRINGS

The golden couple enters hushed admiration.

Their beauty captures the imagination.

Women ache to stand in “her” shoes.

I don’t.

I’ve heard his tone…

I’ve seen the bruises…

I’ve heard her cry.

But now, she grins and laughs

While clinging to his ego.

They are so in love people declare

But they don’t see the invisible strings

They are knotted in oppression.

Her eyes reflect only fear…

Her mouth set in a dark smile…

Her motions are jagged as he tugs her strings.

He is a puppeteer of hatred

Controlling each action…

Each word…

Each breath.

My heart feels her pain,

Yet, she won’t leave him.

I offer her safety,

She clings to sadistic devotion.

No one sees what makeup covers

No one hears his degrading words

No one feels his anger like she does.

It is a delicate illusion held together by string

Someday, I know that string will break

And I will either comfort her… or grieve by her grave.

As I turn away, I glimpse a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

It goes unnoticed by her pathetic puppeteer.

I smile as I leave in hope,

Knowing the invisible strings are finally fraying.

***

You’ll find Denise here …

Blog site:

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE:

On TWITTER:

On FACEBOOK:

***

#5 This contribution by Gerry McCullough.

flash best marionette

Puppet On A String.

Do you remember the song? Perhaps not – it was quite a while ago.

My relationship with Bart Dobermann made me into a puppet, with strings Bart pulled.

Everyone saw Bart as a pleasant, easygoing man, with lots of friends. They didn’t see behind the curtains, where he casually jerked me round whatever way suited him.

We were married, had been for nearly three years, because at the time he met me Bart had decided a wife would be a useful thing, and I would suit his purposes. I was pretty, and quiet. Unlikely to upset his ideas, to argue with him or disobey his commands.

He got me wrong. I might seem quiet, but I’ve always fought for my ideas. Bart got a nasty shock one evening early in our marriage when he was laying down the law to several male friends he’d invited home for a drink. He commented on the way women nowadays wanted to control everything. The men murmured agreement with him. I felt obliged to put forward my own strong disagreement.

Bart laughed at the time, making a joke of the whole thing, but afterwards, when his friends had gone, he laid into me both verbally and physically.

I don’t know why I didn’t walk out on him there and then. Perhaps because it was cold and dark outside, and we lived in a lonely farmhouse a long way from anywhere. I hadn’t learnt to drive yet, and I had no idea where I could go. Later that night, Bart came up to bed, where I lay crying in misery, and not only apologised, but held me tenderly and swore he would never behave like that again. I believed him.

However, I quickly learnt that his promises were worthless. Things went from bad to worse. I don’t intend to say anything more about the things he did to me. It’s not something I want to live over again.

During the next years, I learned to drive, in spite of Bart. But I still couldn’t work out where to go, supposing I managed to steal Bart’s car – oh, yes, it was Bart’s car, never mine – and drive away.

One day, after a particularly violent row, I thought of an alternative.

Bart didn’t deserve to live. I decided that for once, I would pull the strings instead of him.

At first I considered that I might string him up, literally, in one of the barns. But I soon realised how difficult that would be. Bart was much stronger than me. That’s always been my problem. I couldn’t fight him off.

Instead, I began to build up a store of painkillers. I claimed to have regular headaches, bought packets and hid them in my panty drawer. Not a place that Bart would ever look. He had bought some kinky underwear for when he wanted me to role play for him, but he kept those in one of his own drawers.

He had developed a habit of drinking whiskey just before bed. As often as not the whiskey’d work on him and he’d pick a fight with me and beat me up. I waited till his current bottle held only a few glasses, the amount he’d drink in one evening. During the day, while he was out of the house supervising the farm hands, I dissolved as many tablets as I could into the bottle, enough to knock him out cold, never to wake up. I hoped it would pass as an accidental overdose. I was ready to swear he’d been having headaches and regularly taking more and more painkillers, till he must have badly overdone it.

But it didn’t work out like that. Bart finished the whisky, but it didn’t knock him out straightaway. He staggered to his feet and lunged at me, threatening punishment for some imaginary fault.

I flipped. I’d thought it was all over, that he’d never attack me again.

Slipping round behind him, I grabbed the empty bottle and went for him. The bottle smashed over his head.  He collapsed in a mess of blood and glass.

He was dead – I checked his pulse.

 

The police will be here soon. I had to call them. I don’t know what to say to them. Will I be arrested for murder?

I wish I could think of a good lie to tell them. I really need someone right now, someone to pull my strings and make me dance to some successful tune.

Gerry can be contacted here …

Gerry McCullough
Irish Writer & Poet

Thanks so much for stopping by. The Challenge Photo-Prompt for Week #6 will be posted on Friday, June 26th.

Contact me at …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

 

 

 

 

“Fiction In A Flash Challenge” Week #5 … Entries 1-3. @KIngallsAuthor @gmplano @pursoot #IARTG #WritingCommunity

Flash Fiction best header

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week 5.

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 a form 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 4pm EDT on June 18th. 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 on June 19th.

 Here is the prompt image and ENTRIES 1-2 and 3…For #Week 5.

Entries 4 and 5 will be featured tomorrow.

flash best marionette

 

#1 …This contribution by Gwen Plano:

My contribution is a Tanka poem, a 31 syllable poem known for its five lines of 5-7-5-7-7 syllables. The photo prompt is the figure in the bottom left corner.

Flash week 5 Gwen Plano Tanka june 25th 2020

You’ll find Gwen here:

Reflections on Life … Blog.

Author Page: Gwen Plano on Amazon

On Twitter.

Gwen Plano on Facebook.

 

***

#2 … This contribution by Karen Ingalls.

flash best marionette

For this challenge, I have written my first Haiku poem, which is a short form of Japanese poetry. It consists of three lines, with seventeen syllables divided into 5/7/5 syllables. I hope you enjoy it.

Karen Ingalls can be found on

Karen Ingalls Blog.

On Twitter:

Karen Ingalls Author Page Amazon

On Facebook

***

#3. My own contribution:

flash best marionette

‘The Puppeteer’.

By

Suzanne Burke

“Our audience will arrive soon, my pretty one. We must give them a show they’ll always remember.” The man looked down at her from his perch on the step ladder, “What are those grey eyes of yours asking?” His voice dropped to a cracked whisper, “Tell me.”

“ Look, I’m really sorry, but I don’t think this is my kind of assignment. I’ll give back the modeling fee. ”

The man’s laugh echoed around the basement studio. The sound made Holly shiver. “Not your kind of assignment? Trust me, my pretty one, this assignment will make you quite famous.”

Holly’s voice was tight with fear, “I’m leaving now.” Holly stood and took a close look at the ties that bound her. “These bindings need to be removed.”

“Oh, no, no you can’t go now. You’re about to be launched on the worldwide stage.”

“I said these need to be undone. Please, I, … I’m already late. I have a two-year-old daughter waiting. I just want to go home.”

“She’ll get to brag about her famous mommy.” The man turned his head and caught the beam of a flashlight shafting through the small window just below the ceiling. “Ah, perfect. Our audience has arrived.”

Holly dropped to her knees, “Please, please… whatever this is it’s not too late to stop! Please?”

She looked up to discover the gun he now held aimed at her.

“It’s far, far, too late, my pretty one. The ball’s already in play.” His voice was soft and somehow wistful.

Holly grew silent, scrambling to think clearly through the adrenaline-fuelled fear.

She heard the heavy thud of a door upstairs being rammed open, and the boots overhead moved towards the basement stairs.

“Here they come!” The Puppeteer flicked on another spotlight and illuminated his stage; he moved with assured steps to stand behind his living marionette. Holly felt the gun barrel of the Glock placed against her left temple. She moaned in fear.

Seconds later the basement door was forced open, “FBI … Drop the weapon! Do it now!”

“Oh, no…no, I don’t think so. You aren’t about to risk me getting a shot off before your bullets take me out of play. You can’t let ‘The Puppeteer’ add another victim to the list. You’d kiss goodbye any hope of furthering your career.  He laughed. “I believe that gives me the advantage.”

“Let’s calm this situation the fuck down. What is it you want?”

“Ah, of course, and you’d be the hostage negotiator?”

“Declan O’Connor. Talk to me. Let’s all walk away from this with no bloodshed. Now, what will it take for you to cut her loose and let her walk over here?”

“Oh, nothing much. I’m thinking a Presidential Pardon would suit me nicely. My very own ‘get out of jail free’ card.”

“Not about to happen. Not with the sixteen females you’ve butchered. Now ask me for something I can do.”

“I don’t need anything else. Pity. She’s quite pretty.”

Declan O’Connor whispered into his mouthpiece, “Do it now!”

The Puppeteer screamed as the sniper’s bullet came through the small window and removed three fingers and the gun from his right hand.

NO! NO! You, damned fools! You are meant to kill me! There’s no glory in this.”

Declan O’Connor now cradled a sobbing Holly in his arms, he looked over as his men took charge of their prisoner. “We’d already figured you didn’t plan on this ending well. Sixteen cases and you have never made a mistake that could lead us straight to you. Except for this time.” Declan gave Holly’s shoulder a squeeze as the paramedics helped the shaking woman onto a stretcher.

He walked over to man the press had labeled The Puppeteer as another paramedic dressed his wound. “Pity you didn’t commit one of your atrocities in a state that still upholds the death penalty. But, in many ways, it’s far more satisfying to know you’ll do life without any hope of parole. The best news is that we’ll see to it that you’ll do that time in the general population of a maximum-security facility.”

“I’ll plead insanity.”

“Nah … won’t happen. Every psychologist and psychiatrist that has read the case files will testify that these murders were at the hand of someone sufficiently in charge of his faculties to plan meticulously and enact pre-meditated murder. I for one look forward to seeing you live to enjoy your sentence, for as long as it takes for another inmate to kill you. They all have sisters’ mothers and sweethearts. Pity is you won’t last awfully long.

The Puppeteer began screaming as he was shackled and shoved into the waiting van.

Declan addressed his team. “Great work, people. Let’s meet up for drinks after the debriefing. I’m buying!”

***

Holly said a grateful prayer that night as she cradled her daughter in her arms.

#

I look forward to sharing entries 4 and 5 with you tomorrow.

Thanks so much for stopping by. The Challenge Photo-Prompt for Week #6 will be posted on Saturday, June 27th.

Contact me at …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Week #5. Image Prompt: Join in, have fun, and let loose your creative muse.#FictionInAFlash @pursoot @IARTG #ASMSG #WritingCommunity.

 

Flash Fiction best header

Hello everyone and welcome to week #5 of my  “Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Each week I’ll be featuring an image and inviting you to write either a Flash Fiction or Non-Fiction piece inspired by that prompt, in any form, and in a 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 4pm on Thursday, June 25th. 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 beginning on Friday, June 26th. (I’ll feature all posts in the order they were received over several days if the number of entries calls for it.)

I do hope you join in! Have fun, let the creative muse loose!

And now …The image for week#5

flash best marionette

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” Entries for week #3 @gmplano @KIngallsAuthor @pursoot #IARTG #WritingCommunity #ASMSG

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

Flash Fiction best header

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 piece inspired by that image in a 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 4pm on June 11th. 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 on June 12th.

***

AND Here’s the prompt image and ENTRIES…For #Week 3.

Flash Fiction empty hammock

This contribution Authored by Gwen Plano.

ENTRY:

This week’s photo takes me to an imaginary island somewhere in the Atlantic, far from COVID-19 and riots in the streets. Walking its pristine beach, I am surprised by what I find and share it today. I hope my discovery brings a smile and maybe a fresh breeze. Have a great day!

​A Haitian Proverb

“Bekka, come on. This will be fun.” His irritation mounting.

“Mom’s not gonna like it.” She looks away and shifts her legs nervously.

“Come on, she won’t even know.”

“Remember last time? Not pretty…”

“Good grief! Just crawl across the tree trunk and we’ll jump together.”

“What if we miss?”

“How could we? We’d be right above the swing. We can’t miss.”

“Yeah, well, if something could go wrong, it will.”

“You always do this. You know that right? A l w a y s. Forget about it! I’m going without you.”

“Alright!! I’m coming. No tricks though.” She struggles to pull herself up the tree trunk.

“I’m gonna count to three. Are you ready? Here goes…one, two, three. JUMP!”

Thump!

“Bekka, what happened? Why didn’t you jump?”

“Just got scared is all.”

“Come on! What could go wrong?”

“I dunno…but it feels so high up here.”

“Then jump and stop complaining.”

“Okay. One, two, three…”

Thump!

“Eddy, Eddy, where are you?”

“Well, no thanks to you, I’m in the ocean. I bounced off when you hit.”

“Oh no, here comes mom.”

“Geez!! Y’know what she’s going to say! The crab that walks too far falls into the pot.”

“Have you ever wondered what that means?”

“Yeah, but I suspect it’s code for stay away from humans – or at least humans with pots.”

***
You’ll find Gwen here:

Reflections on Life … Blog.

Author Page: Gwen Plano on Amazon

On Twitter.

Gwen Plano on Facebook.

 

***

This contribution by Karen Ingalls.

Flash Fiction empty hammock

A VACATION FROM HELL

I was excited to go to the Caribbean island of Barbados with my three closest friends from college. It was a five-day trip to celebrate our graduation and my upcoming marriage to my college sweetheart. What was to be a relaxing, fun, and wild trip turned out to be a nightmarish, insane, and stressful trip.

Day 1: my seat assignment was changed to the middle seat in the last row between a young mother with a baby and a 300-pound woman. The baby was asleep until the plane took off, then it cried until the plane touched down. On my other side, the obese lady snored and kept nestling her head on my shoulder.

Day 2: I awoke with a hangover after partying most of the previous night. I spent most of the early morning on the bathroom floor hanging over the toilet bowl. I felt as if I had two heads banging against each other. Some aspirin, tomato juice, and an icepack soon brought me back to normalcy.

By late afternoon, I felt well enough to go snorkeling. The beautiful fish and coral were breathtaking. I thought I was in heaven until a jellyfish stung my left leg. I came up for air, screaming in pain. As I stepped onto the boat my left foot slipped, twisting my ankle. The rest of the day was spent at the local clinic, treating the jellyfish’s sting, and wrapping my swollen ankle. That evening I sat in my room alone, left leg elevated, an ice pack on my ankle, and enjoyed the euphoria the pain pills provided.

Day 3: The four of us stayed by the pool, playing cards, and drinking rum island drinks. This was not a good idea since I was still taking pain pills. Before I knew what happened, my face fell into my lunch plate of fish cakes with fresh fruit. I do not remember anything more about the third day of the vacation.

Day 4: The next morning, I awakened in a hammock attached to a palm tree swaying above the Caribbean water. I looked around and saw my buddies laughing and pointing at me. At first, I was angry, then I decided to enjoy the moment. The warm sun, gentle breeze, and gentle rocking of the hammock relaxed my weary body.

My leg and foot were much improved and my brain was clear of the pain pills’ effects. We rented a car and drove around the island, stopping at Harrison’s Cave where we saw stalagmites and stalactites on a tram, explored Bridgetown, and visited the Morgan Lewis sugar mill.

The day ended with dinner and drinks at a restaurant near our hotel. That was when I realized that my wallet was missing. Fortunately, I had left my passport in my room.

Day 5: My friends each pitched in and bought a first-class ticket for me.  “This has been a rough few days and we want you to be rested for your wedding tomorrow.”

I had a window seat in the last row of first-class. I had just settled down when the same obese lady sat in the aisle seat next to me. I slumped down, covered my eyes, and asked myself, “How can this be? What are the odds? What have I done to deserve this?”
No one answered my questions, but once again the lady immediately started snoring and used my shoulder as her pillow. Two rows behind me a baby cried during the entire flight.

The wedding gift from my college buddies was a 20 x 30-inch photo of the hammock hanging from the palm tree. I have it displayed in my office at work. Clients marvel at how beautiful and peaceful it looks.  I just smile and nod.

#

Karen Ingalls can be found on

Karen Ingalls Blog.

On Twitter:

Karen Ingalls Author Page Amazon

On Facebook

 

My own contribution:

Flash Fiction empty hammock

A Touch of Paradise

By Suzanne Burke.

Tessa pulled back the drapes and slid the glass doors wide open. She stood on the deck and sucked in a deep lungful of the tangy salt air. It was just as she’d pictured it. Long stretches of pristine white sand lovingly embraced the palm trees and the deep blue ocean tugged at its edges.

She hurriedly changed into her swimsuit, ignoring the jetlag and determined not to waste a moment of this longed-for vacation.

The white hammock was waiting, and she sighed at the utter perfection of it as she carefully lay back. The soft breeze washed over her, and the view relaxed her and lulled her to sleep.

“Time to wake up sleeping beauty.”

Tessa sat bolt upright too fast and toppled out of the hammock, landing in an undignified heap at the intruder’s feet.

“Oh, hell! Are you hurt?”

“Only my pride.” Tessa began brushing the sand from her body and then laughed up at the man standing there. “I presume you have a good reason for waking me?”

He reached down and offered his hand and she was gently pulled to her feet. “It’s safe enough to fall asleep in the sun here in the early morning, but, it’s past noon now, and sunburn is no way to start a vacation.”

Tessa grinned at him, “Well then, thank you.” She extended her hand, “I’m Tessa Carpenter.”

He returned the handshake, “Lee Bradshaw.” He laughed, “Sorry, I’ve just never had a woman throw herself at me quite like that before.”

Tessa dissolved into gales of laughter, “I finally get to be a fallen woman.”

Lee grinned in appreciation and glanced at his Rolex, “Can I buy you a drink to make up for startling you.”

She gave it some thought, “I’m not in the mood for a crowded bar, I’m still jetlagged and I need to freshen up. Later perhaps? My bar fridge is fully stocked, maybe we could fix a drink and sit out on the deck?”

“Sounds like a plan. Say I come by around sunset?”

Tessa smiled and agreed. She showered and slept. Her guest arrived at 6.30 carrying platters of food prepared by the restaurant staff. Tessa’s stomach growled in happy anticipation.

Lee fixed them each a tropical cocktail. They sat outside and witnessed the fire of sunset then spent the remainder of the evening in relaxed conversation and shared laughter as they discovered each other.

The days that followed blended like rich chocolate, swimming, and scuba diving out on the reef together in the pristine clarity of the morning ocean, followed by long afternoon walks exploring the island, and finally to warm nights sitting on the sand under a canopy of black diamond-studded velvet. They spoke of their dreams, their work, and the people that mattered in their lives.

***

Tessa couldn’t sleep. The thought of heading back to New York tomorrow chilled her. She could save every penny and come back to the island again next year. But he wouldn’t be here. She chided herself for being a fool. Suck it up buttercup. She squared her shoulders as the thought took hold. I will not spend my last day here dreading tomorrow.

***

Lee was sitting on the hammock waiting for her to join him.

Tessa smiled down into his face, “Aren’t we swimming this morning?”

“I need to talk to you about something first.”

His voice told her it was important, “Sounds serious.”

“Oh, it’s serious.” He looked worried and uncertain. He reached for her hand and held it tightly. “Well … here goes. I can’t bear the thought of not being with you after today. I’ve fallen in love with you, Tessa. I want us to be together. … Will you marry me?”

Tessa smiled softly, “We both have to be crazy! But, I love you too. And, yes, yes I’ll marry you.”

Lee stood and pulled her into his arms as they kissed and savored the moment.

“This is the perfect place for a honeymoon.” He spoke against her hair.

“It’s way too expensive. I don’t mind where we go. We’ll be together so the destination doesn’t matter. We can work hard and save towards somewhere else.”

“Um, yeah about that work thing? I told you I was scouting out this place for a client who was interested in buying a great investment.”

“Uh-huh, …and?”

“Now don’t get all fired up, but, I kinda left out the part about me being the investor.”

“You?”

“We can honeymoon here or stay here permanently if you want. I um… I purchased the island and the resort yesterday.”

“Holy-shit! You’re that Lee Bradshaw? The Fortune 500 Bradshaw?” Tessa looked into his eyes and saw the truth there. Her legs gave out from underneath her and for the second time in a week, she found herself sitting on the sand in a heap at his feet.

Lee groaned and then laughed. “You don’t need to throw yourself at me anymore, darling. I’m already yours.”

“I’m not just dreaming this am I?”

He sat alongside her on the sand, “No darling. This is as real as it gets.”

“I may need a little more convincing.” She traced the outline of his lips with her fingertips.

He pulled her into his arms and happily complied.

#

Thanks so much for stopping by. The Challenge Photo-Prompt for Week #4 will be posted on June 12th.

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“Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Week #3. Image Prompt: Join in, have fun, and let loose your creative muse.#FictionInAFlash @pursoot @IARTG #ASMSG #WritingCommunity.

Flash Fiction best header

Hello everyone and welcome to week #3 of my  “Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Each week I’ll be featuring an image and inviting you to write a Flash Fiction piece inspired by that image in a 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 4pm on Thursday, June 11th. 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 on Friday, June 12th.

I do hope you join in! Have fun, let the creative muse loose!

And now …The image for week #3.

Flash Fiction empty hammockI hope the image inspires you and I hope to see you stop by.

Find me at …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

By Email.

 

“Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Entries for week #2.@gmplano @KIngallsAuthor @JanSikes3 @DLFinn @pursoot #IARTG #WritingCommunity.

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to the entries for my weekly : “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week #2. You have some great reading in store.

Flash Fiction best header

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 piece inspired by that image in a 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 4pm on June 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 on June 5th.

***

AND Here’s the prompt image and ENTRIES…For #Week 2.

Flash Fiction park bench in the fall

This contribution Authored by Gwen Plano.

This week’s picture holds sadness for me. It’s as if life has been stilled. Though the scene is beautiful, there is also a chilly silence. I’ve chosen to try to capture that feeling of isolation in a simple three-stanza haiku poem.

Fiction in a flash park bench Gwen Plano

Take a look at Gwen’s blog.

Reflections on Life … Blog.

Author Page: Gwen Plano on Amazon

On Twitter.

Gwen Plano on Facebook.

*

This contribution by Karen Ingalls.

Flash Fiction park bench in the fall

The Park Bench

The wooden slats creaked when Jim sat down on the park bench. He held a bouquet of red chrysanthemums. The cool air, warm sun, and the smell of autumn leaves brought peace to his tired body.

It was October 18, 2019, which marked the 30th year of meeting Julie Henderson every Friday afternoon at 1:00 pm.

“Hello, darling.”

Jim looked up to see Julie standing there as beautiful as the first time they met. He gave her the bouquet saying, “Happy anniversary, my love.”

In 1989, they were strangers sitting next to one another on this same bench. Julie was reading a book and Jim was eating a sandwich. They glanced at one another and soon struck up a conversation discovering similar interests and histories. They were both divorced, each had three children, and careers. Julie was a nurse and Jim was caught up in the corporate world, but had dreams to open up his own restaurant.

After an hour, Julie stood up. “Oh, my goodness. I must leave and get to the hospital for the evening shift. It was nice to meet you.”

“Wait. Do you come here often? I am being presumptuous, but I would like to see you again,” Jim stammered.

Trusting her instincts, she smiled and said, “I am here every Friday at one in the afternoon. I like to come here and enjoy nature, the quiet, and to gaze at the beautiful oak tree across from this bench.”

“Perhaps we could meet here next Friday. By the way, my name is Jim Agen.” He extended his hand.

Julie took his hand and replied, “I am Julie Henderson. I’ll be here.”

They both felt a special energy sweep through them when their hands touched.

For several months, they met each Friday, same time and place. The park bench knew when they held hands for the first time, each embrace and kiss, and heard their words of affection.

When the weather changed to winter, they just swept the snow off the bench and enjoyed the wintry beauty. In the spring, they breathed in the fragrant smells from the cherry blossoms. On a hot summer day, Jim proposed to Julie. They got married on October 19, 1990, standing in front of their favorite bench decorated with red chrysanthemums and red leaves from the oak tree. It had been a part of their lives from that first meeting and was proud to be at the center of the ceremony.

Over the first months of marriage, Julie encouraged her husband. “Follow your dream of having your own restaurant. Don’t let naysayers stop you.”

With his wife’s help, Jim opened his restaurant Autumn, serving soups, sandwiches, and homemade desserts. It was a successful business and soon he opened two more restaurants naming them Autumn Leaves and Autumn Waltz. The couple filled one wall of each restaurant with books available for the customers to enjoy. Soothing music playing Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons, an orchestral rendition of Autumn Waltz, or Nat King Cole singing Autumn Leaves completed the ambiance. Julie quit her job at the hospital and became the manager of all the restaurants.

Despite their busy schedules and were married, they continued to spend every Friday afternoon together on the park bench. They talked about their week, hopes and dreams, growing family, and love for each other. Julie loved to say, “I think the angels were tripping over each other to find a way for us to meet. I am grateful that you decided to have lunch in the park that Friday.”

The years passed by, and one Friday only Julie came to the park. Once again, the board creaked as she sat down, letting out a sorrowful sigh. She spent her time talking out loud as if Jim were there. A tear fell on one wooden slat and Julie thought she heard a moaning sound.

Six months later, the October sky was cloudy and the last of the oak’s leaves had fallen. It was Friday, but the park bench was empty. It missed Jim and Julie who never sat on the park bench again.

~~

Karen Ingalls can be found on

Karen Ingalls Blog.

On Twitter:

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*

This contribution by Jan Sikes:

Flash Fiction park bench in the fall

A FOREIGN WORLD

“Oh, the memories.” I sigh, and squeeze his hand a little tighter. The dried orange, brown and yellow leaves crunch beneath our feet as we shuffle along the sidewalk.

He smiles down at me. “Yes, my love. I remember when we sat on this very bench and I asked you to be my bride.”

Tears came unbidden and trickled down my wrinkled cheeks. “We had a pretty darn good life, didn’t we, Harold?”

“Yes. Yes, we did, in spite of the hardships.”

“But, I no longer recognize the world we live in. Where is everyone? Why are the streets empty? There was a day when this park would have held the laughter of children and young lovers strolling hand-in-hand.”

“Let’s sit, Margaret. My old legs are giving out.”

We shuffled over to the bench and Harold brushed away the leaves that covered it.

He blew out a long sigh and leaning on his cane, dropped onto the very bench where we started life together fifty-two years ago.

“I’m troubled, Harold. No, I’m more than troubled. I’m scared. Not for me and you. We’re pretty much out of here, but for the ones coming behind us.”

Draping an arm around my shoulders, he pulled me closer. “It’s not the same America that you and I grew up in. Soldiers on the streets, looting, killings and so much hatred exists. You know it’s not even safe for us to venture out.”

“I know, but I really needed some fresh air. Thank you for appeasing me.”

“Oh, my love, that is what I have lived for these past fifty-two years. My greatest joy is to make you smile.”

“What is that noise? Sounds like firecrackers.”

“I think we better mosey on back home, honey. It’s getting closer.”

He struggled to his feet, then leaning heavily on his cane, reached for my hand.

As we shuffled back toward safety, I turned to look back at the bench that meant so much, only to see a group of hoodlums spraying graffiti on it.

“Harold, we need to move faster. Trouble’s coming.”

“I’m going as fast as I can go. Don’t worry, dear. I won’t let anyone hurt you. It’s just a few more blocks home.”

That’s when it happened. A blow to the back of his head, took Harold to his knees. I screamed and turned to face our attackers only to see sneers and glowing hatred in the eyes of what should have been intelligent young men.

“You old people don’t need to be alive,” one of them growled. “You’re just taking up space and eating food that belongs to us. This is our country now. Old people like you are a nuisance.”

I kneeled down beside Harold and cradled his head in my lap. “You’ve hurt my husband.” Tears flowed uncontrollably.

One of them laughed. “So what? What are you going to do about it old woman?”

The first blow knocked me backward onto the hard concrete, and I frantically reached for Harold’s hand. The second blow brought oblivion.

Then, I was flying and when I looked down, I saw the shell of our bodies lying on the concrete, our blood mixing together and staining the sidewalk.

Harold floated up beside me.  “We’re free now, sweet love. No more aches, pains or persecution. We’re free.”

He was right. I no longer had the familiar pain in my joints and his cane no longer had any use.

“What will happen to our once beautiful world?” I took one more glance downward to see the men who’d taken our lives strolling away casually as if nothing had happened. They laughed and joked and slapped each other on the back.

“I don’t know the answer to that. We may have to come back to find out.”

“I’m not sure I want to come back again. Maybe we’ll stay with the Angels for a while.”

“Whatever you say, dear.”

With his hand nestled softly in mine, we drifted slowly and peacefully toward the brightest light that you can imagine. Then we disappeared into it.

We were home.

CONTACT JAN SIKES:

All books are available at http://www.jansikes.com

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*

Contributed by D.L.Finn.

Flash Fiction park bench in the fall

It was our bench. I felt the familiar tug at my heart as I quickened my pace and maneuvered through the pungently earthy orange, red, and yellow leaves. I hated making this walk alone through the fall splendor.

I jumped when something brushed against my leg.

“Sorry. Lady escaped from her collar again.”

The pug sat at my feet with an amiable head tilt. I mumbled. “No problem.”

“She’s friendly if you want to pet her.”

I shook my head and stepped around the dog. Passing the brightly lit coffee shop that usually provided me with a latte, I kept going. Finally, I plopped down on a cold cement bench and was immediately greeted by a distant chorus of barking dogs.

A young boy burst through the door directly across the street. He was cradling a small black kitten.

“Can I name him Skitter, mom?”

As the mother agreed, I flashed back to the day I brought my kitten home from this animal shelter. Felix died right before his 18th birthday. I decided, after crying for two weeks, I didn’t want to go through that heartbreak again.

A wind kicked up, and the sun was sloping down. It was time for me to head home. I stood up to go but froze when a young couple exited the building with a small exuberant black lab just like… Tears flowed unchecked down my face. I missed my walking companion, Bessie. When I had to put her to sleep, after she lost her battle with cancer, it tore me apart holding her for the last time. My two constant companions were taken from me in only two months. Now, at sixty-five-years-old, I was not only a widow but petless too.  With a heavy heart, I slowly made my way home.

The final one-hundred yards before turning into my driveway, I heard a muffled cry coming from a bush.

“Hello?” I called out, getting my keys ready to run inside.

It answered with a whimper.

“Pup?”

I carefully pushed the branches aside and found a taped cardboard box.

“Oh god…”

My heart was racing as I ripped the box open and peered inside.

The yellow puppy barked and jumped on the side of the box with its tail wagging. I quickly scooped it up, and it nestled into my neck. The smaller black one wasn’t moving, and the black and yellow puppy could barely lift its head.

“You poor babies! What kind of monster would do this?”

I raced to my car and gently set the box down while still hanging on to the yellow puppy. My hand brushed over the black pup, finding no life, but the other pup let out a small sigh as I stroked its soft fur.

I dialed my vet and started the car, “I found some puppies in bad shape. Are you still open?”

“We just closed but bring them in, Marsha. We’ll wait.”

Soon the two puppies who had survived were on the vet’s examination table.

“They are around four weeks old and look like a shepherd/lab mix. It was lucky you found these two when you did. We will do everything we can for them and call you in the morning. Are you considering keeping them?”

I frowned. “I don’t think so, but I will pay for whatever they need.”

I spent a long night tossing and turning. Their sweet faces haunted me as well as the cruelly taped box. I knew I was meant to find them, but that didn’t mean I had to keep them. When the sun finally rose, I knew what I had to do.

The phone rang after breakfast. “Hi, Marsha. I’m sorry the boy didn’t make it, but the girl did. We will keep her here another night so we can monitor her, and we found someone to foster her so—”

I cut her off. “No, she has a home with me.”

A year later, Molly was proudly wearing her new pink collar. She yanked me toward our bench. Today we couldn’t sit there because a neighbor’s adolescent daughter had taken it over with a box of kittens that had a free sign taped to the side. Our walk was cut short when I locked eyes with a tiny black cat. We had found the missing member of our family and I had learned that having a pet’s love was worth any loss endured.

*

Contact D.L.Finn here on

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*

And My Contribution.

Flash Fiction park bench in the fall

GLITCH

by

Suzanne Burke.

Hoover Building: Washington.

F.B.I. Taskforce ‘Glitch’. November 17th, 2019.

Special Agent Ryan Spence ran his hands through his thick dark hair and looked across at Jenny Hanson, “Do we have confirmation that it was the same park location?”

“Yup. We had flash traffic a little over an hour ago. Same as all the others. An identical description of the events they also described, including Margaret Dawson’s statement this morning.”

“The first Casefile #C514 was Craig Carmody. Listed as missing person November 16th, 2010. Located, November 16th, 2011. Missing exactly one year. The dates are identical. His interview, especially the description of that location was almost word for word identical to Margaret Dawson’s and the eight others.”

“Sweet Jesus. Nine years, and we still have nothing but supposition to go on. And proving that will be next to impossible.”

“I’ll run his interview file. Who knows maybe we’ll find a difference.”

The room quieted and they hunched forward in anticipation.

***

“Recording date November 17th, 2011.”

Casefile #G514. Craig Carmody. Listed as missing November 16th, 2010. Located November 16th, 2011. Present. Senior Special Agent Colin Wagstaff. Mr. Craig Carmody.

“Mr. Carmody please describe for us the events leading up to your disappearance. You were last seen by your wife on the morning of November 16th, 2010. What happened when you left home?”

“I headed off to work, just like I do every day when I’m on shift. I had a bad mornin’ and come lunchtime I was ready to punch somebody’s lights out. But I figured a couple of stiff bourbons and a walk in the fresh fall air would see me calm down some.”

“You had a few drinks and then?”

“I went to the park.”

“Which park was that?”

“The big one over on Delancey street.”

Delancey street? Are you sure of that location?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I recall wonderin’ why I hadn’t been down there before. But we’d just moved from Idaho, so I hadn’t seen all of the city.”

The agent sat back for a moment. “Can you describe the park for me? Walk yourself back over that morning and tell me what you see?”

“Yeah, I guess so. So, it was cold, and the wind had picked up, I recall thinking winter was gonna be a real bitch this year. Oh, and it was empty … the park I mean. I thought that was odd, being it was still only early afternoon. But I was in no mood for company anyways.”

“Can you describe what you see?”

“The path is covered in fall leaves and they crunch under my feet. The trees are losing the fight to hang on to the last of their leaves. There’s a bench up on the right, covered in crunchy Fall color. So, yeah, I swiped the leaves off, sat back, and lit up a smoke. That’s when I felt it. ” He stopped and looked down.

“Felt what, Mr. Carmody?”

“The light blinded me and warmed me up instantly, and the sound was a pulsing thing. I put my hands over my ears, but it went right through me, it seemed like it was keeping pace with my heartbeat.” The man wrapped his arms across his chest as if to protect it.

“What happened then, sir?”

“Then?”

“You felt the light, and heard the sound, and then what?”

“I went somewhere else.”

“Where did you go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Were you alone in that place?”

“No. They were there too.”

“They? Can you describe them?”

“You can’t see them, they’re made of light and sound. They don’t have a body like we do.”

“What happened there?”

“I … well, I … I don’t remember. I just know I was there, and now I’m not.”

“You can’t remember anything? You were missing for an entire year, Mr. Carmody. Surely you recall something?”

“I told you. There’s nothin’.”

“Sir, I’m sorry, but there is no park down on Delancey Street. It’s all office buildings and a couple of cafés.”

The man shook his head, “Damn you! I know where I walked to! I tell you it’s there. Why are you saying it’s not?” The man became visibly distressed. His heartbeat and his blood pressure rocketed. The interview hurriedly concluded.

***

And, Jenny? What else? Tell me?”

“Craig Carmody disappeared from the Watford Mental Health Facility yesterday.”

“Jesus! We have to check on Margaret Dawson! She’s being escorted there now!”

He picked up the phone and placed an urgent call.

Jenny watched his face drain of color as he hung up and turned to face her. “The car carrying Margaret Dawson has just been found. The escorts don’t remember what happened. They saw a flash of light and there was a pulse of sound. Margaret Dawson is no longer at the location. Don’t plan on sleeping anytime soon, Jenny.  We have ourselves another active GLITCH file.

#

😁😎(No prizes for guessing I loved The X-Files)

Thanks so much for stopping by. The Challenge Photo-Prompt for Week #3 will be posted on June 6th.

Contact me at …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

 

 

 

 

“Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Week #2. Image Prompt: Join in, have fun, and let loose your creative muse.#FictionInAFlash @pursoot @IARTG #ASMSG #WritingCommunity.

Flash Fiction best header

Hello everyone and welcome to week #2 of my  “Fiction in A Flash Challenge!” Each week I’ll be featuring an image and inviting you to write a Flash Fiction piece inspired by that image in a 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 4pm on Thursday, June 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 on Thursday, June 11th.

I do hope you join in! Have fun, let the creative muse loose!

And now …The image for week #2.

Flash Fiction park bench in the fall

 

I hope the image inspires you and I hope to see you stop by.

Contact me at …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

By Email.