Consumption Function – Flash Fiction Challenge

Title: Consumption Function
Source:  Flash Fiction Challenge
Prompt: Write a story that includes the phrase “for one day”.
Word count:  99 words

9098195663 gaped at his screen.

“See this?” he asked.

But 2207344907 contemplated a different image.

“This is interesting,” 2207344907 murmured, ignoring 9098195663.

Her finger touched the ‘Buy Now’ button. Was it a good selection? Her days were exhausting, constant pressure, endless images, never-ending decisions.

“No, 2207344907. Look. Now,” 9098195663’s voice rose as he spoke.

“It says ‘for one day only’. I haven’t seen that.”

2207344907 peeked at his screen and navigated hers to the same image. It was true. She could not believe their luck. She and 9098195663 slammed the ‘Buy Now’ button until they bought the last one.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Stolen Freedom – Weekend Writing Prompt

Title: Stolen Freedom
Source:  Weekend Writing Prompt #116 – Amateur
Objective: Write a poem or piece of prose in exactly 51 words.

Photo by Anuja Mary on Unsplash

In the reading circle, I waited impatiently. At last, I speak, finishing far too soon. Condemned to waiting again, I skip ahead, being careful, so my teacher doesn’t see.

I am no amateur.

Late at night, I sneak my flashlight and my favorite book under the blanket and read with abandon.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The Magic Carpet – Friday Fictioneers

Title: The Magic Carpet
Source:  Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

Train station

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Reginald heard it before it appeared and checked his watch. The steam engine screeched, the wheels spewed sparks as the engineer braked.  Rattling past the platform, cars thundered, slamming into one another. The boiler heaved, exhaling a plume of white-hot breath, and everything stopped.

Reginald imaged it was the reincarnated dragon his ancestor once defeated. He smiled wryly and boarded.

The car rolled, lurched forward, and tumbled him into his usual seat. Gazing out the window, he reached towards the ruins of his family’s past glory. He swore he would become the newest titan, a man worthy of his legacy.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Cultural Counterfeit – Weekend Writing Prompt

Title: Cultural Counterfeit
Source:  Weekend Writing Prompt #115 – Judge
Objective: Write a poem or piece of prose in exactly 95 words.

“I educated the uneducated. Facts are indisputable, provable. Nothing else matters,” I said.

There was an imperceptible head shake.

“I am surprised, how have you missed the truth?”

“What more could there be?” I asked.

“Love?”

“Overrated.”

“Friendship?”

“Not worth the effort.”

“Beauty?”

“Subjective.”

“Art?”

“Do you have a point?”

Silence followed.

“Go ahead. Judge me. I have lived my life without regard to others.”

“That’s the problem,” the cherub said.

I opened my mouth to speak as the angel raised a finger to his lips.

Silenced, I finally saw a light in the darkness.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Nowhere Left to Hide – Friday Fictioneers

Title: Nowhere Left to Hide
Source: Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Novak had seen the end. He told everyone who would listen. For his trouble, they labeled him a lunatic, certifiable. He painted pictures, but he couldn’t force them to see. They were lost.

He had been like them, paralyzed with fear, he clung to the familiar, repeating his history in a self-fulfilling destiny. Each day manifested as a poor interpretation of a yesterday which spiraled him into darkness.

Until he gasped for breath. The last flickering spark screamed from the deathbed. He was alive, this wasn’t his swan song.  Daring greatly, he released his past to create a new future.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Double Crossed – 100 Word Wednesday

Title: Double Crossed
Source:  100 Word Wednesday: Week 127
Word count: 100 words

I was a man on fire. I drew you, attracted you with promises of sweet protection from demons haunting the night. Flirting with danger, I wondered why you wanted to cross the line, but those thoughts are fleeting when the world isn’t real. Super slow motion we crafted an illusion. Young and naïve, I tried to warn you, protect you from the peril I didn’t see until it was too late.

Your love lingers, a desperate memory on my heart, you left me broken pieces, fading glimpses.  My flame released to the wind.  I am a man burnt by yearning.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Seeking Heat – 3 Line Tales

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

photo by David Peters via Unsplash

City beaches bustle with pale sun seekers playing volleyball, dipping toes into the cool lake water and reveling in the summer breeze.

The roar of jet engines halts all activity, gazes lift skyward, they stand motionless, mimicking a deer in headlights.

Contrails spew patriotic colors, and a wing wag signals, today, there is nothing to fear.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Sharing Secrets – Weekend Writing Prompt

Title: Sharing Secrets
Source:  Weekend Writing Prompt #114 – Grimace
Objective: Write a poem or piece of prose in exactly 33 words.

Photo by Alfaz Sayed on Unsplash

He didn’t answer my question. Instead, his face erupted into a toothless, syrupy, centenarian, grimace which accentuated every crease and wrinkle. There was a twinkle in his eye, and I swear he winked.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Dressed by A Legend – Thursday Threads

Thursday Threads
250 Words

I am thrilled, and, if I’m honest, I am terrified. My dream is real. Countless auditions, endless rejections and penny pinching, will soon be history.

My schedule says report to wardrobe to meet an icon. Edith.

My hand trembles as I open the door to Wonderland. Aisles and rows of clothing reach to the ceiling and extend as far as I can see. I gasp. The number of clothes, hats, jackets, dresses, pants, is overwhelming. As I am taking it in, I feel someone watching me. I know it’s her.

She is shorter than I imagined. Dark bangs frame her large round glasses with blue-tinted lenses. Lips pursed; she regards me in silence.

“You’re Gary,” she says.

“Uh, I’m Jason. They want me to play Gary,” I stammer.

“You. Are. Gary,” she repeats as she pulls a pair of faded Levi’s and a flannel shirt from the mound of clothes stacked on the table behind her.

“Or you will be. Put these on.”

I duck behind the curtain to change. Glancing in the mirror I feel different. Pulling the curtain open, I grab a blue fedora jamming it on my head.

She snatches it away, swapping it for a different hat.

“Does it matter?” I ask.

“Think of yourself as a product. In order to achieve success, you have to sell that product, so start right now thinking of how you can improve it,” Edith says.

“Hi, Edith. I’m Gary,” I say as I shake her hand, and Edith smiles.

****** “What a costume designer does is a cross between magic and camouflage. We create the illusion of changing the actors into what they are not. We ask the public to believe that every time they see a performer on the screen, he’s become a different person.” Edith Head

Edith Head was nominated for 35 Oscars, winning eight times, more than any other costume designer and any woman in any category in Oscar history. She is also the inspiration for the character Edna Mode in The Incredibles.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Pulling the Plug – Friday Fictioneers

Title: Pulling the Plug
Source:  Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

The strap dug into her shoulder. Iola tried to shift it to a more comfortable position, but only yanked her hair. As she walked, the bag banged her hip and her high heels clicked on the pavement.

She was late. Her heel caught, and she tumbled to the ground. Scratched and bleeding, hot tears streamed down her face. It confirmed what she already knew.

“You, ok?” a voice asked.

“Lies, it’s all lies,” Iola sobbed.

“Sorry?”

“They said, ‘follow the rules,’ and I’d be happy.”

“You’re not?”

Iola brushed the gravel from her hands.

“No, but I will be now.”

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer