Treasure Hunt — 100 Word Wednesday Week 88

Title:  Treasure Hunt
Source:  100 Word Wednesday: Week 88
Word count: 100 words


Image by Bikurgurl

“Are they’re watching us?” Meghan asked, “Is it even there?”

“You read the clue,” Harvey said. “See her? No one will suspect her.” Harvey nodded at the old woman walking towards them.

“No, please? I hate taking over old people’s bodies,” Meghan shivered as she spoke.

Meghan guided the woman’s body to the bookstand and rummaged in the back, right corner. She felt a thin, round stick and secreted it into the fold of a magazine she made the woman purchase. As Meghan walked past Harvey’s hiding spot, the wand slipped to the ground and rolled into his waiting hands.


Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The Gift — FFfPP Week 35

Title:  The Gift
Word count:  200 words

MorgueFile May 2018 file1831341080767

Daddy said Mother’s Day was coming, and we needed a nice gift for Mommy.

“I know. Breakfast in bed,” I said. Daddy agreed. We decided pancakes, syrup, juice, coffee and a flower would make a pretty breakfast tray.

The big day arrived. Daddy woke us early and warned us to be quiet. We sneaked downstairs to create Mommy’s breakfast tray. She was surprised! When she ate, we raced downstairs to eat our pancakes.

The kitchen was messy, and I loaded the dishwasher and started it like Mommy does. I wanted to help, but I didn’t realize there was a difference. Soap is soap, isn’t it? The dishwasher spewed bubbles everywhere. They crept from the sides and leaked out the bottom. They cascaded over the top joining the ones on the floor.  The bubbles advanced filling the kitchen floor. I didn’t know what to do.

“Mommy,” I cried.

She raced into the room wading through bubbles to stop the dishwasher. I thought she would be mad, but Mommy laughed. She grabbed my hands, and we danced. As we danced, they swirled around us and bubbles floated into the air. Mommy said she loved bubbles. They were the best Mother’s Day gift.


Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Gulls – 100 Word Wednesday Week 86

Title:  Gulls
Source:  100 Word Wednesday: Week 86
Word count: 100 words

Image by Bikurgurl

“Dad! Look. Seagulls,” Matt yelled as they rounded the corner.

“There is no such thing as Seagulls.”

“They’re right there,” Matt pointed at the birds perched on the pier.

“Son, those are Gulls. Most likely the Western Gull or perhaps a Glaucous-winged Gull, but I doubt we are in their territory.”

Matt’s eyebrows scrunched together as he looked at his father.

“Ornithologists and biologists identify them as gulls. A seagull is a misnomer, people use the name to describe black and white birds that live along the shore.”

“Gulls,” Matt repeated before he ran at the birds with outstretched arms.



Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer


Photo credit: Scott Hudson * on Visualhunt / CC BY

Buddy’s cold wet nose nuzzled my face at four thirty. His bladder was dependable and insistent. I burrowed beneath the covers. Buddy thought we were playing tug of war and pulled the covers off the bed. I sat so he wouldn’t whimper.

I groaned and threw my feet over the edge. The floor was freezing, and I saw the faint fog of my breath. I grabbed the sweatpants and shirt I wore yesterday and pulled them on while Buddy cavorted around the room. Fumbling under the bed I found my hiking boots and pushed my bare feet in and laced them.

“Ok, Buddy. We’re going. Can you wait for me to get coffee?”

Buddy cocked his golden head, and I took it as a yes. The pot held yesterday’s coffee, enough to warm a cup in the microwave. I retrieved my parka and Buddy ran from the room, returning with one end of his leash in his mouth and dragging the rest. I snagged the leash’s trailing end, and we headed for the door. Outside the wind reached my lungs and squeezed. I inhaled the steam rising from the coffee cup before taking a sip. The coffee was warm, not hot, and I downed the rest in a single gulp. Impatient, Buddy dropped the leash and ran. I set the drained cup on the wooden railing and followed him.

The morning’s low tide left a wide swath of hard frosty sand with plenty of smells for Buddy to investigate. We reached the pilings which were the last remnants of the pier. A storm pulled it into the sea two years ago. I let the pier go. I let everything go after the incident. People offered platitudes, promising help, but secretly they hoped I wouldn’t ask. They weren’t uncaring. They didn’t know how to help.

The wind whipped my parka. I didn’t fight. Instead, I faced the wind. Little reminded me I was alive, the wind, and Buddy would have to be enough today.


Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Precious Treasures — FFfAW Challenge – 180th

Title:  Precious Treasures
Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
Word count:   175 words

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Yinglan. Thank you Yinglan!

“I don’t understand why she wants this thing,” Marie picked up the ceramic dog and wrinkled her nose. “But she told me not to come home without it.”

“Grandma sure kept a lot of junk. I mean, really. Did you see this Marie?”

Marie placed the bubble-wrapped dog in a box marked “Mom”.

“See what?” Marie asked.

Angie pulled a large pink elephant from the cabinet and placed it on the table. Marie chuckled when Angie added a slightly smaller teal elephant. The laughter increased as Angie added four more colored elephants to the lineup.  Tears blurred their vision when Angie added a tiny yellow elephant.


Cora dug in the box marked “Mom” and found the ceramic dog. She unwound the bubble wrap, turned the ceramic dog upside down and removed the rubber stopper. Gnarled fingers fished into the small opening and teased out a tissue-wrapped package.  Cora ripped open one end of the tissue and dumped the contents in her hand. She blinked back tears, and the diamonds sparkled and winked back at her.


Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The Race

Photo on Visualhunt

The night shift was boring. Krista and Jordan had been working here for years while I joined six months ago. It wasn’t uncommon to find one of us asleep at our station. The company didn’t care, so long as we responded if something happened. Highly trained experts in our fields, it would take the three of us to man the controls.  So, we sat in the control room and tried to stay busy.

Tired of sitting, I challenged Krista and Jordan to a race. It didn’t take much convincing before we wheeled our desk chairs into the tunnel and marked a finish line. Krista giggled as we lined up and Jordan stretched, flexed his arms and warned us to prepare to “eat his dust”.  The rules stipulated we would sit in our office chair and use only our feet to move towards the finish line.

We lined up and Krista shouted, “Ready, set, go!”

On her mark, Krista and I walked our chairs forward. My feet became tangled in the spokes at the base of the chair and my heels took a beating as I inched forward. Krista adopted an interesting technique. She slouched low in her chair and threw her feet in front of her digging in her heels. Krista then swept her feet back lifting her heels over the casters, throwing her legs to either side. She looked ridiculous, but she made forward progress. I glanced over my shoulder at Jordan who had spun his chair around with his back to Krista and me.

“Jordan,” I yelled, “The finish line is the other direction.”

Krista looked back at Jordan and laughed. We both gaped when Jordan pushed his chair back towards us and the finish line at an alarming rate. Jordan’s backward style suddenly didn’t look so funny and Krista and I put our feet to work. Krista was in the lead and I was stumbling and bumbling along behind her when Jordan shot past me. He stuck his tongue out at me as he passed.

A blaring alarm sounded, and we froze, but only for an instant.

“Stations, now,” Jordan shouted as he leaped from his chair and sprinted towards the control room. Krista raced past me shouting orders. The real race was on.


Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

May December

Photo credit: madrones on / CC BY-ND

The first cherry blossoms were springing to life, heralding a beginning. Delicate and sweet the scene unfurled. My heart soared, buoyed in the gentle breeze, I danced. And I danced as petals fell at my feet and the leaves turned green.

Exhausted I collapsed into tall grass which did little to shade me as the sun’s rays strengthened. Lazy summer consumed my will, zapped my resolve.  The perspiration evaporated as I lay and listened to the trees grow and the insects sing. I rose and ran I had work to do. Days stretched to infinity, but time was short.

Too soon the sun burned the maple leaves, coloring them vivid orange, yellow and red. They clung to hope. Chilled winds cast me adrift like the falling leaves and the river’s current carried me. I cared little where it ended, but it ended in ice. My veins, my essence preserved in crystalline structures, suspended in time I waited for the next transformation.


Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Yuan Xiao Festival — Friday Fictioneers

Title:  Yuan Xiao Festival
Source:  Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

PHOTO PROMPT © Carla Bicomong

Ying Yue and Liu Rushi ran arm in arm, dodging people and clutching their lanterns on their way to the lake. The full moon floated on the horizon.

“What is your wish?” Liu Rushi spoke into Ying Yue’s ear.

“A husband.” Ying Yue blushed and adjusted the candle.

Liu Rushi giggled and poked at her friend. “A husband?”

“Yes.” Ying Yue glared and returned the jab. “And you? You have no wish?”

“I want to be a courtesan,” Liu Rushi raised her lantern and spun around.

They lit the candles and softly prayed as their lanterns drifted into the night.



Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Clean Water — FFfPP Week 34

Title:  Clean Water
Word count:   180 words

MorgueFile May 2018 1421077743edokn

Chipo didn’t like this, not one bit. Ma had always walked two kilometers to the river to collect their daily water. As Chipo grew, she helped to carry the heavy containers. They used the water to cook, bathe, wash their clothes and water the cows. She remembered the men digging the well. They spoke in loud voices and their loud machine made the earth shake. They located it in the middle of the village, a dozen steps from their front door. They told Ma and Chipo they wouldn’t need to walk to the river and Chipo thought it would be wonderful.

They left, and she and Ma no longer walked to the river. Then the water changed, it tasted funny and Chipo stopped drinking it. Ma said it was fine. Weeks passed, the water turned brown, and the well sputtered and sprayed. Then it ran dry and Chipo resumed her daily trips, but Ma stayed in bed too ill to walk the two kilometers.  A week later, Ma died.

Now they returned to fix the well. Chipo walked to the river.


Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer