‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge’ Week #13 Entries Part 5) By D.L.Finn @dlfinnauthor #IARTG #ASMSG #WritingCommunity

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to PART 5)  of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week #13.

Today I’m featuring a contribution from 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.

michael-dziedzic-1bjsASjhfkE-unsplash

This Contribution by D.L Finn

 

I had a heck of a time choosing the poem to post here. I ended up with several poems but narrowed it down to two. One was full of images and a connection to the soul, but the other one reminded me of a favorite poem, “A Road Less Traveled” by Robert Frost. Here’s the one that narrowly won out.

image 13 challegne

 TREASURE

I searched day and night

For this promised treasure.

Given no map or guidance

Only a family quest to fulfill.

Each morning started the same…

Through the pines, cedars, and dogwoods

I followed my path.

My eyes scanned the hushed forest.

And when the filtered sunbeams departed…

So did I.

I repeated this ritual daily, never changing my course

Until that one day…

A shimmer sparkled between two large sugar pines.

Encouraged, I veered off into the unknown.

I soon found this careless choice difficult…

Leaving me conflicted…

And scraped and bruised from this uncharted territory.

But the small light beckoned me forward…

Until the sunbeams dissipated…

I turned to go home.

That’s when I saw it… shiny, bright, and golden.

I knew it was the promised family treasure

Quickly I swooped up the old key, studying it.

It was exactly as described down to the three holes,

But it offered no answers, only more questions.

I carefully tucked it away in my pocket.

All I had to do was… find the lock.

Here’s where my next journey began.

I’ll continue until I find what I seek…

The lock that my treasured key opens…

And what exists beyond.

D.L.Finn can be reached here …

Blog site:

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE:

On TWITTER:

On FACEBOOK:

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

On Goodreads.

By Email.

 

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge’ Week #13 Entry Part 4) Karen Ingalls @KIngallsAuthor #IARTG #ASMSG #WritingCommunity

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to PART 4)  of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week #13.

Today I’m featuring the 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.michael-dziedzic-1bjsASjhfkE-unsplash

This Contribution from Karen Ingalls.

This week’s photo prompt created many stories and poems in my mind, but I finally chose to write a Tanka poem about magic, healing, and the beauty of nature. A Tanka poem is one flowing, unbroken line with 31 syllables separated into 5/7/5/7/7 parts. The actual photo prompt is nestled in the lower right corner of the larger photo.

WALKING IN THE WOODS

I SEE A MAGICAL KEY

 ON THE FOREST FLOOR

THAT WHEN MY FINGERS TOUCHED IT

MY DISEASED BODY WAS HEALED.

 

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’d love to hear your thoughts.

 

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge’ Week #13 Entries Part 3) By Gwen Plano @gmplano #IARTG #ASMSG #WritingCommunity

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to PART 3)  of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week #13.

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.

michael-dziedzic-1bjsASjhfkE-unsplash

Entry 4) by Gwen Plano.

When I saw the photo of the key, I thought of walking in the woods and discovering this artifact. I superimposed the image on a forest scene and then hiked the imaginary path. A prayer/poem emerged, which I share as my contribution to this week’s Fiction in a Flash Challenge 
Gwen Plano can be reached here …

 

Thank you so much for stopping by. I look forward to hearing your thoughts. I’ll be posting further entries as I receive them.

I may be contacted here …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

By Email.

 

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge’ Week #13 Entry Part 2) By Harmony Kent @harmony_kent #IARTG #ASMSG #WritingCommunity

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to PART 2)  of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week #13.

Today I’m featuring contributions from entry 2)  by Harmony Kent.

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.

michael-dziedzic-1bjsASjhfkE-unsplash

The Undoer

By

Harmony Kent

Millennia ago, they believed they’d destroyed the key.

Millennia ago, they entrapped The Undoer.

Millennia ago, such evil as you’ve never seen nearly undid the whole world.

The demon slithered into the mind of the mage responsible for melting down that small brass piece that would ensure the monstrosity remained contained. Instead, the confused old man swallowed the key. At some point a few days later—for, in his dotage, his movements happened but seldom—he shat out the magic-forged metal. A few hours later, with a mew of disgust, some young acolyte tossed out the waste.

Centuries passed. Magic disappeared from the world. And a vast, deep forest grew all over the land. Eventually, man grew clever in the ways of commerce, hoarding, and building. The natural ways fell into disrepute, and anyone who claimed extraordinary abilities suffered mockery and denigration.

Into this cold, uncaring, and disconnected modern world, a girl was born. An angel made flesh. A blank slate, ripe for the picking—finely balanced on the razor’s edge that lay between the Light and the Dark.

Molly adored adventure and running in play through the dwindling woods around her home. The squirrels and the birds and all the small creatures made friends with her. Oftentimes, they could be found in a fast game of Catch-Me-If-You-Can.

Long forgotten, The Undoer had grown strong. With his newfound motivation came restlessness. Over time, the demon contrived to erode the soil until, one day, the innocuous-looking little brass key lay atop the mulch and foliage of old growth. Waiting.

A hidden root tripped Molly, and she fell headlong onto the forest floor. Her dainty fingertips splayed mere millimetres from the key. Curiosity lit a flame behind her eyes. Molly reached out for the intriguing trinket.

Time stopped.

Preternatural silence thickened the air, as though all of life held its breath.

With a shudder of revulsion, Molly flicked the key away. Horrified, she brushed the contamination off on her frilly pink skirt, along with the dirt and mulch. Existence stretched and then snapped back, much like an elastic band. The Earth breathed out. A sudden tremor rattled Molly’s teeth. A gaping chasm opened, swallowed the key, and then convulsed shut once more.

In his prison, The Undoer let out a roar of rage. Finally, he knew the name of defeat.

Copyright ©Harmony Kent 2020

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’ Week #13 Entry Part 1) @pursoot & @HowellWave #IARTG #ASMSG #WritingCommunity.

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to Part 1)  of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week #13.

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.

michael-dziedzic-1bjsASjhfkE-unsplash

ENTRY 1) One line contribution by John Howell.

“So give me the key, Richard, and keep an eye out for that giant Python while I open the chest.”

John Howell can be reached here …

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

 Twitter:

Author Blog Fiction Favorites:

***

Entry 2) My Own Contribution.

michael-dziedzic-1bjsASjhfkE-unsplash

If ever I would leave you.

By

Suzanne Burke

Annie stood on her front porch gazing out at the pouring rain, she sighed and resigned herself to forgoing her walk this morning. Then she smiled and reminded herself that she still had plenty to do in the kitchen before the family arrived.

She lit a welcoming fire in the sitting room, enjoyed two cups of coffee in front of it, then dressed and pulled on her favorite apron.

The sounds of the cars coming up the long drive a few hours later had her hustling out onto the porch to greet them.

Her two boys pulled her into their bear hugs and her daughters in law smiled on and gave her their own loving greeting.

“C’mon in out of this cold, my darlings. Lunch won’t be too long, grab yourselves a freshly brewed coffee and sit by the fire.”

Her twin grandsons gave her a smile, “Do we have time to go down by the lake, Grandma?”

“There’s always time to do that. So long as your folks are happy with it. But you’ll need your gumboots it’s a might muddy out there.”

The boys pleaded successfully, and their father told them to be back inside half an hour.

Annie lovingly declined all the offers of help in the kitchen, and her sons and their wives settled down to talk comfortably in the living room.

***

Thirteen-year-olds Thomas and Travis skipped stones across the lake, happy as always to be in each other’s company. Travis looked at his watch, “We need to head on back, don’t want dad havin’ to come get us again.”

His brother grinned at him and said something, but Travis was distracted, “Hey, what’s this?” He said as he stooped to pick up the shiny gold key.  “I think this belongs to Grandma.”

His brother nodded, “She must have dropped it on her daily walk. Let’s get back. I’m betting she doesn’t even know she’s lost it.”

***

The boys went in through the mudroom, removed their gumboots, and entered the kitchen, “Hey, Grandma. We found this down by the lake. You must have dropped it this morning.”

Annie smiled at them and shook her head, “But I didn’t go on …” She stopped mid-sentence as she recognized what Travis was holding out to her. She reached for it and held it without speaking.

Thomas glanced at her with a worried frown, “You’re not gonna cry are you, Grandma?”

She sniffled as she responded “Oh, no, my darlings. I’ve been peeling onions. Thank you for returning this to me, now scoot and wash up ready for lunch.”

***

The adults were laughing with pleasure as the men shared memories of their escapades here at the lake house with wives who smiled on indulgently as though they hadn’t heard the stories before.

Daniel stopped laughing and turned toward the kitchen. He put a finger to his lips and whispered, “Hush … Listen.”

Annie’s sweet soprano voice carried out to the room as she sang.

Daniel felt his throat constrict with tears, “Oh, God. She’s singing. I haven’t heard mom sing like that since dad passed. I believed I’d never hear it again. This is a good day.” The smile lit up his face.

***

The hours that followed were joyous and it was late when the sleeping boys were roused, and everyone headed off for home.

Daniel kissed his mother’s cheek, “I’ll call you tomorrow, mom. It’s been so great today. Thank you.”

Annie gave them all a hug and waved her farewells from the porch.

She inhaled deeply and finally removed the key from her pocket.

She climbed the stairs to her bedroom, lit the fire, then slowly walked across to the dresser, and removed the ornate box from its safe place. Henry had given her this on their wedding day, ‘We each hold the key to the other’s hearts safe in our keeping, my darling.” He’d said.

Annie held her breath as she opened the box. One gold key lay in its red velvet place, but the space beside it was empty. Henry had been carrying his key on a chain around his neck as he’d done for forty years. He was wearing it when he left the house on the day he passed. Annie had searched for it everywhere and hadn’t been able to find it.

Her hands shook a little as she lovingly replaced the key alongside her own where it belonged.

The record player beckoned, she removed the old LP, cleaned it, and gently placed the needle down on the track she wanted.  They’d danced to this at their wedding. The haunting sounds of ‘If ever I would leave you’ from Camelot lit her face with a sweet sad smile. Henry was right here still watching over her. Today had indeed been a good day.

~~~

 

As so often happens with these prompts for me, the image conjures music I haven’t heard in a very long time. I enjoyed hearing this again. I hope you enjoy it too.

Thanks so much for joining me here today. I look forward to seeing your comments.

I may be reached here …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

By Email.

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge.” Week #12 Entry 7) By Miriam Hurdle @mhurdle112 #IARTG #ASMSG #WritingCommunity

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to the final entry for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week #12.

Today I’m featuring The Clock by Miriam Hurdle.

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.

bryce-barker-cIcX_aO9LPo-unsplash

 

The Clock

By

Miriam Hurdle

“I had a wonderful time with you this weekend. Thank you for inviting me over for all the meals. Both your mom and grandma are excellent cooks.”

“We could have gone out to eat, but I know my mom and dad would love to have you around as much as possible. You surprised me by taking a third serving of the Mixed Berry Crisp pie.” Michelle giggled.

“I was just eating fruits. Berries are rich in antioxidant. Your grandma made it with no crust, so there was not so much carbohydrate.” The saliva rushed out under Dave’s tongue.

“I know you’re an expert in the food business. My mom and grandma were happy when you appreciated their cooking. Grandma is making desserts only these days.”

“Dessert is the best part of the dinner.”

“I’ll tell grandma you liked her dessert. I know you told her already. She’d like to hear it again.”

“Your grandma always has a pleasant smile. She seems to be content.”

“Yeah, nothing seems to upset her.”

“Where’s your grandpa?”

“Well, he left Grandma before I was born, so I’ve never met him. Grandma was retired when I was four and Rob was six. She moved in with us and watched us kids after school. It was when both mom and dad were working”

“I’m sure she loves you and it makes her life happier to be with you kids. Did she ever talk about your grandpa?”

“She didn’t when we were younger. We didn’t know the difference anyway. She talked to me when I got older. She said Grandpa was in love with someone at work and they went away.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Your grandma must be mad at him.”

“She said she was sad but not mad.”

“Were they married long?”

“I would say it was a long time. Twenty-five years.”

“I can’t imagine what it was like. Did she talk about being lonely or think about remarry?”

“After marrying Grandpa for twenty-five years, she didn’t think she could love anyone else the same way.”

“She gives all her love to you and Rob. No wonder she is so happy.”

“Grandma is honest. She shared with me about how she worked on forgiving Grandpa. To forgive someone is not an overnight thing. She had to stop blaming Grandpa or herself. She had to get rid of the unhealthy emotions and let go of Grandpa. Once she let go of him and let him be responsible for whatever happened, her heart felt light and happy again.”

“It was an incredible story.”

“I know. I wish you could stay and be here for her 70th birthday party. It’s a holiday tomorrow.”

“There were a few things to do tomorrow before the office opens on Tuesday. I hope she likes the birthday present I gave her.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she will, but I want you to meet the rest of the family.”

“Christmas is coming up. I’ll be back for the party. Okay, I’m walking toward the gate right now. Can I call you after I arrive?”

“Sure.”

Dave went up to the counter at the gate.

“Hi, I’m late. I wasn’t looking at the clock.”

“Oh, sir. Yes, you’re too late for the boarding.”

“I’m sorry, would you call to hold the door for me?”

The ground attendant talked on the phone, then turned to Dave and said, “Sorry, sir. The captain said the door was closed. I can reschedule the flight for you, so you won’t be charged for the cancellation and re-booking.”

“Okay then. Do you have the same schedule tomorrow?”

“Mmm, yeah, I do. You’re all set. You should receive an email with a new confirmation number.”

“Thanks.”

Dave pressed a speed dial number.

“Hi, Michelle. It’s me. I’m turning around. I’ll be at your grandma’s birthday party tomorrow.”

“Great! But what happened?”

“I missed the flight.”

~   ~   ~   ~   ~

Author Links and Contacts

Amazon Links

Amazon UK Link: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07K1S47W9 

Amazon.com Link: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B07K1S47W9 

Contact Links

Website: https://theshowersofblessings.com

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Miriam-Hurdle/e/B07K2MCSVW?ref=dbs_p_ebk_r00_abau_000000

Twitter: https://twitter.com/mhurdle112

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/miriam.hurdle.1

***

I may be reached here …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

By Email.

Thanks so much for taking the time to stop by! This is the final entry for week #12.

The new image prompt for week #13 is now live.

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge’ Week #12 Entries Part 6) @dlfinnauthor #IARTG #ASMSG #WritingCommunity

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to PART 6)  of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week #12.

Today I’m featuring a contribution from 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.

bryce-barker-cIcX_aO9LPo-unsplash

THE CLOCK

By

D. L. Finn

I gently shifted my weight in the chair, trying to pry my bare legs off the brown vinyl. Several deep breaths did nothing to relieve the tension in my shoulders. I pulled my sweater tightly around me with the realization it wasn’t wise to be dressed for a hot summer day while sitting in a cold hospital room. There had been no change in the last few hours. The constant beeps continued, and the oxygen flowed in and out with a gentle whoosh.

I shook my head at the tragic irony of a man needing me after how he treated me growing up. My father had an undiagnosed mental condition. He hid it well, so only those who lived with him knew his explosive violence under the shrewd mask of a family man. No one saw the marks; they were never on my face. He was careful even when he had lost control. The war and his parents had hurt him so deeply that when it bubbled to the surface – it hurt us. He never seemed aware of his faults, so there was never an opportunity for him to seek any help. My family spent every waking moment, trying not to upset him in the hopes all would be well. It wasn’t.

I sighed loudly and took the protein bar out of my purse. Though I wasn’t hungry, I didn’t want to pass out and end up in a hospital bed, too. I washed the crunchy honey oats down with a bottle of water. The nurse entered the room right after I finished. I pretended to be asleep. There was nothing new she could share with me.

Finally, she was gone, and I sat up staring at the lump of a once proud and cruel man. We were the only two left from my family. Alcohol and drugs took everyone down, except me. I knew when to quit. The man lying in bed had upped his intake of drinking until it was all he did. Today I watched them remove twenty-one bottles of liquid from his abdomen, relieving his labored breathing. He had no idea it was happening.

A flash of light caught my attention, and I quietly got up to investigate. It was coming from the nurse’s station where someone had placed a small golden clock that looked like a holiday ornament. It was the same as…a chill shot through me.

It looked exactly like the clock from my dream last night where I was boxing up my father’s belongings. My only thought had been he wasn’t dead. Then, in one box, was this device. It had a clock face on all four sides as it gently spun in a circle playing my father’s favorite Hank Williams Jr. song.

“Can’t be,” I whispered, hoping I’d seen it the day before.

A loud conversation cleared that up.

“Did you see what that patient in 202 left us today, Sissy?”

“I’ve never seen a clock like that before. How sweet of him.”

I gulped when I saw the time was the same as my dream. Unsure what to do, I stood there frozen until a sudden warmness wrapped me in its wisdom. I quietly closed the door and stood over my father.

“I forgive you, father, even after all you did to us. You weren’t happy here on earth, and I hope you’ll find some happiness where you are going. Please know I’m doing this in love, and I believe it’s what I’m meant to do. Rest in Peace.”

I picked up the extra pillow and held it tightly over his face. He never struggled, but at the last moment, his bloodshot eyes opened. I saw approval in them, as the machines went silent. His eyes closed. I put the pillow back and pushed the nurse’s button right as they threw the door open. Mercifully, they couldn’t revive him.

Later, when I left his room, I hurried past the clock still set at the same time, 11:53. After a long wait for the elevator, the clock began playing my father’s favorite song. I held back a smile when I saw the hands had moved to noon, which only justified my actions.

No one knew what I did that day. I was okay with that because he was free, and so was I.

***

D.L.Finn can be reached here …

Blog site:

AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE:

On TWITTER:

On FACEBOOK:

Thanks so much for stopping by! The image prompt for Week #13 is now live. I look forward to reading your comments.

I can be reached here …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

By Email.

 

 

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge’ Week #12 Entries Part 5) By Joan Hall @JoanHallWrites #IARTG #ASMSG #WritingCommunity

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to PART 5)  of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week #12.

Today I’m featuring a contribution by Joan Hall.

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.

bryce-barker-cIcX_aO9LPo-unsplash

The clock was ticking. Only one week remained until Janie’s manuscript was due and she found herself staring at a blank computer screen. The pivotal moment, the last few chapters, eluded her like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. So close but just beyond her reach.

I’ll never finish this manuscript by the deadline. There isn’t enough time.

She rose from her writing desk then walked to the window. The falling snow made the yard and surrounding woods look magical. A true winter wonderland. A myriad of birds—finches, buntings, and cardinals—flocked to the feeders. They fluttered about, often fighting with one another. She watched—mesmerized by their movements.

Janie didn’t realize how long she had been there until her cell phone chimed to indicate a new text message.

Probably another reminder from my agent.

Choosing to ignore the message, she glanced at her watch. Fifteen minutes had passed since she first looked out the window. Fifteen wasted minutes.

Oh well, that’s not a lot of time.

She walked back to the computer to stare at the blank page again. Music always inspired her. Maybe it would help. Looking at her vast musical library, she came across the album, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.

The Beatles always lifted her spirits. Lots of good songs on this album. “With a Little Help from my Friends” was a favorite.

I can use all the help I can get now.

“Getting Better” was another cheerful tune.

Things can’t get worse, can they?

Then she saw it. “When I’m Sixty-Four.” Janie recalled seeing a video from the film, Yellow Submarine. Using cartoon illustrations, they stated how many minutes were in sixty-four years, then proceeded to count down the last minute of the song.

Janie immediately felt encouraged. One hour is sixty minutes. One day contains 1,440 minutes and a week is 10,080 minutes.

I can do this. One minute can be a very long time.

~~~~~~~~

Joan Hall can be reached here …

BookBub Author Page

Amazon Author Page

Goodreads Author Page

Twitter

Instagram

Pinterest

Facebook Page

Thanks so much for stopping by! The prompt for week #13 is now live.

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge’ NEW Image Prompt Week #13 @pursoot @IARTG #ASMSG #WritingCommunity

Hello everyone and welcome to my weekly “Fiction in A Flash Challenge!”  Week #13 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, August 20th. 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.

UPDATE: The response to the prompts has been just wonderful. As a result … FROM THIS WEEK (#13) I’ll be sharing all entries received, and, my own contribution here AS I RECEIVE THEM. Rather than posting all of them only over a few days.  Thanks to everyone for the amazing support.

Here is the week #13 Image Prompt.

michael-dziedzic-1bjsASjhfkE-unsplash

Thanks to Michael Dziedzic for sharing their Free Image on Unsplash.

 

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 #12 Entries Part 4) by Mae Clair @MaeClair1 & Gwen Plano @gmplano #IARTG #ASMSG #WritingCommunity

Hello everyone and a warm welcome to PART 4)  of the entries for my weekly: “Fiction in A Flash Challenge” Week #12.

Today I’m featuring contributions by Mae Clair and 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 is the image prompt.

bryce-barker-cIcX_aO9LPo-unsplash

Yesteryear Treasures

By

Mae Clair

The antique store was small, tucked into a side street beside a dried herb emporium. Charlene studied the faded brick façade and low hanging wooden yardarm. The sign creaked in a slight breeze, its flowery blue script proclaiming Yesteryear Treasures. A man with long white hair greeted her when she stepped inside.

“Good afternoon.” He had eyes the color of midnight and long-fingered hands.

“Hello.” Charlene offered a smile then wandered away to browse aisles of pale milk-glass and cameo pins. Bone china teacups, vintage greeting cards, feathered hats and opera glasses, rag dolls with black button eyes. There was too much to take in.

She paused to finger an ornate four-sided clock.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”  The white-haired man appeared behind her.

“My great grandmother had a clock like this when I was a child.” Strange how she hadn’t thought about it in years, but now she could see it nestled atop a dresser in Nana Ruth’s bedroom as though it was yesterday.

What are you doing?” The reprimand in her mother’s voice echoed in her ears. So long ago, yet powerful still. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

 “But, Mama.” She couldn’t look away from the stark numerals and gilded brass casing of the clock. “It has four faces.”

 “It’s not for you to worry about.” Her mother knelt in front of her, lightly gripping her arms. “This doesn’t concern you.”

 “But I’ve never seen a clock like that.”

 “And you won’t again. Forget this one while you can.”

Charlene drew a breath, a bird beating in her chest. The floor felt spongy, like she might slip through into a realm where matter weighed little and thought was tangible. “Why? Is it special?”

“In ways you can’t imagine.” Her mother stood. “Come, child.” Taking her hand, she drew Charlene from the room.

Charlene looked at the man beside her, his white hair a waterfall of ivory. She touched the clock, a barely-there brush of fingertips. “I’ll take this.”

“You should know it doesn’t work. The time has been stuck at 11:53 since I acquired it.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

His smile thinned, sliding into something liquid. Later, when she returned to her small studio apartment, she set the clock beside her bed. Weary, she made a meager dinner of tomato soup and olive toast, then settled in front of the TV. The day caught up with her and she drifted off shortly after 8:00 PM.

When she woke hours later, the apartment was dark, needles of moonlight splayed across the floor. Her bed was only a handful of steps away, the old clock on the nightstand stuck at 11:53.

She grabbed her iPhone, illuminated the face, and saw the time was an exact match for the bubble clock with four faces. Slowly, she stood—half of her drawn to the window overlooking the moon-silvered grass to the rear of her apartment, the other pulled by the clock. Four different faces, all reading 11:53.

She closed her eyes. Heard the sound of her great-grandmother’s voice. Her grandmother’s. Her mother’s. Three spirits bound together in a prison of brass and glass, collared and penned by time. Her mother’s voice was strongest. Not words as much as a sad, keening hum of regret.

“You wanted to keep me out of it.” Charlene set the clock on the kitchen counter, her pulse wildfire in her ears.

She grabbed a hammer from the storage cabinet beside the sink. Without hesitation she bludgeoned the time piece. Spurred by anger and fear—a malice so strong each strike grew in ferocity until there was nothing left but cogs, broken gears, and scattered springs. The spirits of her great grandmother, her grandmother, and her mother soared free.

Calmly, she rounded up the scattered pieces of the clock, then dumped them in the trash. The next day she returned to the antique shop, but found the place boarded up. She caught a stooped over gray-haired woman opening the herb emporium and asked about the shop.

Yesteryear Treasures?” The old woman shook her head. “Hasn’t been here for over twenty years. Nothing has. The place has been abandoned for as long as I can remember.”  With a tired shake of her head, she disappeared into her shop.

Charlene stared at the building. At the space where the weathered sign had hung.

As she walked away, she was certain she heard the old wood creaking behind her.

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

Mae Clair can be reached here …

Twitter:

Amazon Author Page:

Mystery, Suspense & Urban Legends | BookBub | Newsletter Sign-Up

Website & Blog | Goodreads

~~~~~~~

This contribution by Gwen Plano.

When I saw the photo, I imagined a train station and decided to superimpose the clock on a station scene. Focusing on the time, I thought of a country rock song. You’ll soon discover why.   
Midnight Rider

“What’s wrong, Bernie? I came as soon as I could.”

“It’s Sam. He took off tonight.”

“He left—again?”

“Said he had a train to catch.”

“What the hell is wrong with that guy? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I should have expected it. I told him about the baby.”

“And the bastard didn’t give a shit?”

“He said something like, ‘that’s your problem, not mine.’”

“Why do you put up with him? Really! You need to figure this out, Bernie.”

“I know, I know. I just keep thinking he’ll settle down. He’s a good guy down deep.”

“Well—down deep doesn’t cut it. In my book, he’s nothing but a drifter.”

“Do you think that after the baby is born, he’ll…”

“Are you serious? Bernie! We’ve talked about this way too many times.”

“What should I do?”

“To start with, forget Sam. You’ll never catch this midnight rider.”

 

Gwen Plano can be reached here …

 

Thank you so much for stopping by. Tomorrow I’ll feature the 5) post for WEEK #12 by  Joan Hall. The image prompt for #Week #13 is now live.

I may be contacted here …

My author page on AMAZON.

On Twitter.

On Facebook

On Goodreads.

By Email.