September 17, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story of mice. It can feature any variety of the little critters in any situation. Are the the character or the inciting incident? Use any genre, including BOTS (based on a true story).
Milo, a little grey mouse With the heart of a giant He could stare down the largest cat And get away unscathed he would be sent out For the most timid of his clan His days were long and slow He wanted more. Dressed in his best suit Knapsack on his back He was off to the cries of “Don’t go Who will hunt for us, we’ll starve!” “I will teach Jacko before I go I must seek my fortune. If Mickey can make it big In Hollywood, Then so can I I will take Hollywood by storm someday…”
‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge’ Week #17 Entry Part 2) By Harmony Kent @harmony_kent #IARTG
I felt my hand tremble As I pulled the paper from the bottle Thin, fragile, delicate with age, the edges burned as if they meant to destroy it before placing it in the bottle I could hardly bear to unroll it It felt like the Rosetta Stone in my hand With great care the words came into view A sad tale of a young man’s loss I could feel his pain in every word He was sorry he had to go Tell Laura, I love her The date on the letter was my birthdate My name is Laura…
September 10, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that includes something heard on the radio. It can be from any station or era. What is heard? A song, announcement, ad? Think of how radio connects people and places.
I remember falling in love with a song After hearing it coming from my mum’s little Dansette radio Indian Reservation Years later I bought it on vinyl Played it until it became paper-thin The neighbours banging on the wall Begging me to play something different It’s strange how one song Heard on a tiny radio Can colour your life To me the world suddenly became wonky, off-kilter. Why do people think they can take what doesn’t belong to them Changing Nations with their greed Indian Reservation remains one of my favourite songs to this day Played often…
He heard the sound the minute he walked into the dining room to start work removing the ugly fireplace.
A faint scraping sound echoed around the room, but where was it coming from?
His mind returned to the job in hand, the removal of the totally unsuitable faux marble fireplace. He swung the large club hammer at the bolster chisel to separate the cheap surround from the wall. Seconds later, the scraping sound set his nerves on edge. He winced.
“Don’t be daft…you’re imagining it!”
But every blow he made was answered by the sound that seemed to be coming from the walls.
Once the fireplace lay on the floor in pieces, he started to carry the pieces out to his truck. Each time he returned; the noise greeted him.
What began as curiosity and amusement, slowly turned to annoyance and he couldn’t decide what to do about it.
He had to be imagining it, for he had moved in six weeks ago and not heard anything before now.
Maybe he should just ignore it.
Instantly, as if it heard his thoughts, the slightly louder sounds seemed to argue with that idea.
He slowly walked around the room, pausing at each wall but annoyingly, he heard nothing.
Three of the walls were brick, but the one adjoining the kitchen was a partition wall, plasterboard on a timber frame. He remembered building it the week before, and if there was anything trapped, it would be in that one.
It was getting late, and he was hungry. Whatever was going on would have to wait until tomorrow. As he turned to leave, the noise began again, and the sense of urgency was palpable.
He reached into his toolbox for his utility knife and approached the partition wall. Carefully, as he couldn’t remember exactly where the power cables were, he cut a sizeable hole and using the torch on his phone, he stretched his head through to see what the wall might conceal.
He could hear something moving about. He tried to see what it was, but the hole was too high.
Minutes later, after cutting a hole at ground level, a small, bedraggled cat crawled out, barely alive.
August 13, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a first flight. It can be anything or anyone that flies. What is significant about the first? Go where the prompt leads!
As we grow older We tend care a little more About the young ones Children, animals, it doesn’t matter If they’re young We acquire a mothering apron Fussing over their first steps Eager that they don’t fall A fall may put them off trying God helps us when it comes to their first steps to foraging for themselves Mother mode goes into overdrive Unfortunately, we cannot keep the door closed to the grown-up world Wanting to, can’t make it so You can only hope and pray That you did a good job Trust that you have And let go…
August 6, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about molten lava. It can be real-time, such as a volcanic event or the result of one in the geologic timeline. Or, think about making the prompt into a metaphor of heat. What is so hot? Go where the prompt leads!
The sudden hot blast as you take hot cross buns from the oven Balmy temperatures that drive most people to the nearest beach Looking at the sun through dark glasses Reminding yourself it’s a ball of molten lava Boiling seas of golden fantasies Hot pavements, melting tarmac Car tyres in danger of melting (It has been known) Desert sands, hot springs Shooting geysers you cannot bathe in Only admire the height it reaches A falling star so hot It melts sand into glass The only heat I appreciate Is between cool cotton sheets Should I be telling you this?
July 30, 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that uses the phrase “her crowning glory.” (Thanks to Anne Goodwin for the prompt idea.) It can be in the traditional sense of a woman’s hair or applied to any idea of a best attribute. What happens if you play with the meaning or gender? Go where the prompt leads!
She stands on the edge of decision Beneath the pale silver crescent Her earthly form chosen Dark mane flowing Magic cannot be contained Her crowning glory, the spiral horn Long sought after by man One such as hers Said to be held by Merlin The magician, to raise Camelot She must risk going back in time When magic held no mystery, it just was To find a mate, to keep magic between the worlds As it had been from the beginning Will she risk losing her magic At the hands of some eager Wannabe wizard Or find her mate?
For visually challenged writers, theimage shows a bank of dark clouds rolling in across a sunny moor, casting its shadow on the hills of the horizon.
For some, the moors can be a lonely place Where old dreams go to hide Waiting the right footsteps to re awaken Under dark clouds, magic can be heard Living shadows run across the hills Who are they, what chases them? What stories hide withing their dark folds Do the ancient ones continue dreaming? As they run through the dark hills Remembering youth Do they leave a breath of hope? For you to walk through To hold their stories, tell them anew The moors, with their welcoming arms Of old and new Like walking through a pick and mix store With something for everyone…