challenge

A Storm Named Waterloo – Friday Fictioneers

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 30 Comments

Title: A Storm Named Waterloo
Source:  Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

I cracked an eyelid to face my accuser. One o’clock. I should have been up hours ago, and yet…

The tapping at the window urged me to forsake my warm cocoon. I stumbled across the room and opened the blinds. The day mocked me. Rain splatted on the pane. Foggy condensation distorted my view of the miserable world.

At least it’s not snowing, I sighed.

Minutes ebb into eons, dulling the achingly familiar pain as I tried to reach past the emptiness.

At my end, I abandoned my post and crept to my haven of dark forgetfulness as snowflakes fell.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Things We Do for Love – Flash Fiction Challenge

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 18 Comments

Title: Things We Do for Love
Source:  Flash Fiction Challenge
Prompt: Write a story to the theme “a dog in the daisies.”
Word count:  99 words

short-coated white and black puppy lying on green and purple flower field

Photo by Ian Wetherill on Unsplash

Abra was true to her name – mother of many. I had qualms about breeding her, but since she was the county’s best herder, every farmer wanted one of her pups.

She whelped ten, five males and five females. I named the girls after flowers and the boys after trees. Everyone asked about them. When would they be weaned? How much did I want for them?

I auctioned nine and they passed on the runt, Daisy. I gleefully keep her. Daisy resembled her mother, and she stole my heart. And like her mother, she became the county’s best herder.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Feeding My Soul – Weekend Writing Prompt

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 19 Comments

Title: Feeding My Soul
Source:  Weekend Writing Prompt # 143 – Elysian
Objective: Write a poem or piece of prose in exactly 56 words

gray concrete buildings

Photo by Alexander Kagan on Unsplash

I close my eyes, allowing my shoulders to drop and feel my stress spiral outward, evaporating like the water from my pasta pot. I inhale, rekindling my dearest memories, I am transported. I see my dear Florentine friends Alighieri, Botticelli, Brunelleschi, Buonarroti, Boccaccio, Da Vinci, Giotto, and Masaccio. My goblet overflows with their life-sustaining Elysian essence.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The Paradox of Free Will – Friday Fictioneers

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 24 Comments

Title: The Paradox of Free Will
Source:  Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

PHOTO PROMPT © Ulrika Undén

Tabbris allowed his gaze to follow the escalator’s path upward towards the light. In the eerie stillness, tinny speakers pumped strains of show tunes that echoed in the space like tennis balls bouncing off granite canyon walls. He hesitated.

A finger snap cut through the haze, reality thundered into focus and urged him to act. Tabbris stepped aside, letting the automatic stairs continue without him. He ran his hand over his eyes and considered his options. Was everything pre-ordained, a foregone conclusion, or could he conjure freedom? Did he possess power?

Long moments passed before Tabbris turned and walked away.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Teatime – 100 Word Writing Dare

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 8 Comments

Title: Teatime
Source:  100-Word Writing Dare
Prompt: (5 random words): Strong, Circle, Party, Four, Lid
Word count:  100 words

group of people holding mugs

Photo by Nani Williams on Unsplash

Demir ordered four Caykur Rize teas from the gritty street vendor. Ender arrived as the man poured strong sludge the color of muddy streets into paper cups. Ender waved away the proffered plastic lids, passing two steaming cups to Demir while he grabbed the remaining two.

They didn’t wait long for Kadir and Cemil to join their party, completing their circle of trust. They shared bonds forged in a different world. None of them remembered when they met, how they became friends or any day they had failed to meet, and sip the tea that stopped the hands of time.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Step Right Up – 3 Line Tales

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 5 Comments

From Sonya’s 3LineTales at Only100Words.
You can find the original prompt here. Thank you, Sonya.

three line tales, week 209: a guy spinning a basket ball on his finger with Pokemon in the background

photo by Bannon Morrissy via Unsplash

Desi wasn’t looking for a job.

No one wanted a boy who hid behind sunglasses and an attitude to camouflage a pronounced stutter.

The arcade manager, seeing Desi’s ball-handling skills, declared speaking an overrated skill and leveraged his talents to charge a dollar per try.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Vestiges of Forgotten Purpose – Flash Fiction Challenge

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 8 Comments

Title: Vestiges of Forgotten Purpose
Source:  Flash Fiction Challenge
Prompt: Write a story about a postal carrier in an extreme situation.
Word count:  99 words

white propane tank near concrete stairs

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Tristao shifted the heavy pack, gnarled fingers burrowed under the frayed strap as he eased the pressure on his stooped shoulder.

Once, he bounded through town, nimbly negotiating steep steps, winding ascents, and narrow passageways like the goats that climbed the mountain protecting his birth city. The residents greeted him, eager for the letters he carried. He was their noble messenger, their link to far-flung family and friends. They shared the latest gossip and a welcome snack.

Now he met only faceless receptacles. He fed blank gaping mouths, with empty messages no one wanted. Tomorrow, Gaspar collected the garbage.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The Looking-Glass Self – Weekend Writing Prompt

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 19 Comments

Title: The Looking-Glass Self
Source:  Weekend Writing Prompt # 142– Looking-glass
Objective: Write a poem or piece of prose in exactly 64 words

photo-by-alex-iby-on-unsplash

Photo by Alex Iby on Unsplash

I’m looking at you through the glass, terrified to try again.

You won’t accept easy answers, repeating I’d be a fool to expect a different future.

Life’s only promise is my broken heart will never mend.

No one tells you how quickly epidemics spread, cuts you down, becomes your home.

Evaporated dreams reflected inside my tortured head makes me question: Was it ever real?

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Snow Slide Survival – Friday Fictioneers

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 27 Comments

Title: Snow Slide Survival
Source:  Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Nails on a chalkboard. Awake, I scanned my cold, empty room. Green alarm clock lights displayed 3:03. Experience said there was no chance of falling into a restless sleep. A noise from the street below echoed scars from my dream and shook the night’s unusual stillness.  Beyond my window, streetlights illuminated snowflakes performing detached dances.

Snowplow, my mind decoded.

I considered my options and opted for the least obvious. It didn’t take long to dress and descend into ankle deep oblivion. Buffered silence swaddled my anguish as I walked deserted streets to reluctantly face the reality of being alone again.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Observations from a Park Bench – Flash Fiction Challenge

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 8 Comments

Title: Observations from a Park Bench
Source:  Flash Fiction Challenge
Prompt: Write a story about a park bench.
Word count:  99 words

shallow focus photo of toddler walking near river

Photo by Daiga Ellaby on Unsplash

The clock in Trellech announced his daily passage. At seven-thirty he traveled into town, his feet dragging him forward, his pack dwarfing his tiny frame. Every afternoon at precisely two-thirty, lighter steps whisked him home.

Time slipped into years. As he grew into his backpack, it was replaced by a one larger and heavier than the last. His shoulders bent beneath the staggering weight, but he endured his regimen and never faltered.

His stamina increased, his burden kept pace, and I marveled at his quiet suffering.

One fateful day he stopped, dropped his albatross, and dared to fly free.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer