© Ayr/Gray “Gertrude,” was the answer Farmer Johnson gave when asked who his prize goose was. When the man from Monsanto came to call one bright April morning, he led with his card and a tip of his new Stetson hat. The fact that the hat was new should have been a red flag to…
Category: fiction
#FF — Santa’s Little Helper
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields For Sling, after choosing a pattern the most difficult part of making a quilt was deciding on a color scheme. Fabric shops stocked a daunting variety of combinations that made it impossible to sort out. Marijo called one December morning. Marijo’s daughter was expecting on Christmas. Could Sling have a…
#FF — Busted
PHOTO PROMPT © AJ Wilson “Sure, you can camp on the back forty this summer,” says Uncle Barney. Adam and Eva have dreamed of country living for years. After splurging on tent, umbrellas, coolers, cots, and other essentials, their first night in the wild is June first. On July first, Adam drives the hour back…
#FF — Making Lemonade (alternate title, as suggested by Rochelle) Two Straws
PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson Wilma loved everything about the new townhouse – except the front steps. What architect in their right mind would have designed them this way? Wilma’s extra large feet had to pick their way carefully each time. Even though they were covered with thick rubber tread, she clung to the railing…
#FF — I Want My Mummy, or If You’re Poor in a Heat Wave, Your Chances of Dying from an Unpaid Electric Bill are Good
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot Monday the First Rona had cranked the air conditioning up to max the night before, knowing that power shut-off was sometime today. She shivered until dawn, knowing the cold would last a little longer in the hottest summer in human history. Monday the Thirty-First The building super pounded on Rona’s…
The Unicorn Challenge 0616 — They Feel What We Feel!
© Ayr/Gray Straightjacket buckled and secured, two orderlies lead Harold to the ambulance. “I’m telling the truth! Why won’t you listen! They feel what we feel!” Harold’s mother stands at the top of the porch, her arms crossed, grim downturned mouth, and a deep furrow of worry at her brow. “Please fix my boy,” she…
#FF — Just Like Old Times
PHOTO PROMPT © Rowena Curtin We met in fifth grade, when my family moved to Pleasantry. We were neighbors and best friends into high school. I always had his ear to share my secret shame. At seventeen I hitchhiked away. By forty, I was disappeared into a bottle, living in a boarding house. I don’t…
Tao-Talk 