Rolling the Calendar – Flash Fiction Challenge

Title: Rolling the Calendar
Source:  Flash Fiction Challenge
Prompt: Write a story using the term backup.
Word count:  99 words

yellow-dodge-charger-rt-burning-rubber

Photo by Uillian Vargas on Unsplash

“I think we made it,” I said, but I spoke too soon.

Ahead, cop cars blocked our way. I slammed the brakes and as we skidded to a stop, I slammed her into reverse. Tires squawking and smoking, I punched the gas and my Dodge Charger lurched.

“Backup, backup, backup,” Harold screamed.

“No, shit Sherlock.”

Picking up speed, I jumped on the brakes, threw her into neutral and cranked the wheel. My baby spun. I shifted into second, then third.

“Hang on,” I yelled, “If the DeLorean can do it, we can.”

A poof of smoke, and we disappeared.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The Caregiver – Weekend Writing Prompt

Title: The Caregiver
Source:  Weekend Writing Prompt # 95 – Devotion
Objective: Write a poem or piece of prose in exactly 25 words.
Word count: 25 words

golden-retriever

Photo by Brandon Day on Unsplash

For Reggie and Buddy, it was love at first sight. Buddy’s devotion was constant, Reggie’s stalwart companion. And under his tender care, Reggie grew stronger.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Learning to Fly – 3 Line Tales

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

photo by Eugene Lim via Unsplash

Early morning workouts and long practice hours leave little time for friends, or family, or fun.

But the Dream burns inside of you, a dream others don’t understand.

Sacrifices fade, every obstacle was worthwhile, when gravity’s bonds are broken, and you fly.

______________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The Climb – 100 Word Wednesday

Title: The Climb
Source:  100 Word Wednesday: Week 110
Word count: 100 words

Image by Bikurgurl

It had been a long climb. Now, at the trail’s summit, Jill realized it was worth every hard-won step. Along the path, Jill sometimes wanted to give in, give up, admit defeat.

But Bobby was with her, holding her hand. He yelled when she needed him to yell and coaxed when she needed coaxing. He picked her up, carrying her over the toughest steps. Because of Bobby, she stood awed by the view.

Jill wrapped her arms around him as a tear broke free.

Bobby wiped it away and smiled.

“See? I knew you were stronger than cancer,” he said.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Fearless Leader – Thursday Threads

Photo by Nicolas Thomas on Unsplash

“Step away from him and slowly lay the knife on the altar,” Abbie said stepping from her hiding spot. Startled eyes swiveled towards her and the automatic rifle she held. The one with the knife did as she told him.

“Let me assure you if I fire this gun, someone’s gonna be dead,” she continued, “Now, line up in front of the altar.”

Abbie watched as twelve robed figures slowly obeyed her command.

Rodger squirmed on the ground, struggling to get to his knees.

“You okay, there, Rodger?” she asked.

“I had everything under control, until you walked in,” Rodger grunted as he worked to escape from the amateur’s bonds.

“I see. Had them right where you wanted them, did you?”

“Exactly,” Rodger said as he continued struggling with the knot.

One of the robed figures moved, perhaps thinking Abbie was distracted.

“Easy there, big boy. Remember? I fire. You. Dead,” Abbie flicked the muzzle at him, motioning for him to move back.

Once free, Rodger walked to Abbie.

“Geez, Abs, if you had just kept quiet,” he began.

“If I had held my tongue, you’d be dead.”

“I was running out of options,” he grinned as he stepped past her.

“Dead,” Abbie repeated, backing out of the cavern.

“Everything is so black and white with you, Abs.”

“What about the device?” Abbie whispered, watching the robed figures.

“I have a plan.”

“Is it as good as this one?”

“We’re clear. Follow me,” Rodger said.

Abbie turned, and they ran.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

 

Holding On – Stock Photo Challenge

Title: Holding On
Source:  Stock Photo Challenge
Word count: 100 words

young man and woman walking with sunset

Daniel’s wrinkled hands shook as he held the photo of his most cherished memory.

They met in a sandbox. He had pulled her pigtails and made her cry. He immediately regretted it and swore no one would hurt her again.  He kept his word, protected her. They were inseparable and became high school sweethearts. Everyone knew they would marry.

Daniel suspected something, hoping they were pregnant. But life was cruel. The doctors shook their heads. He was strong, taking care of her until she slipped away. She took his life, his heart. Keeping them safe while he waited for today.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Marking Time – Friday Fictioneers

Title: Marking Time
Source:  Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

Sani kicked the broken asphalt chunk, sending it skidding across the deserted, crumbling parking lot. He dreaded going into Grandfather’s market, where Sani waited after school.

Grandfather would repeat his stories of the olden days. Sani knew the stories by heart and was tired of them.

Route 66 used to run past the market, bringing travelers into town. Grandfather made sandwiches he sold to them with soda and chips. Grandmother sold the Navajo jewelry she made. It was a good life. Then the interstate bypassed town taking the tourists past the market.

Sani could only wait to join the travelers.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Inner Conflict – Extended Version

Yesterday I posted Inner Conflict edited to meet the challenge requirements. However, what I wrote during my first sitting was much longer, twice as long, with a word count around 500 words. Reading the story again, I find I prefer the longer version. This version finished at 456 words. Let me know what you think.

the_fallen_cherub_by_charllieearts_dd0j9ye-fullview.

The Fallen Cherub by CharllieeArts, source

Nervous, and unsure, I took stock of my surroundings. Crouched behind the building’s jutting column, hidden from view, I accessed the alien version of my beloved city. Cold, stark and silent they had transported me into a hidden world. It was the world that lay between reality and dreams.

In the street to my right, stood a glorious black angel his wing unfurled. Exuding confidence, power, and determination he faced his opponent. To my left stood a monster straight from my nightmares, hideous and menacing I knew he meant to win this battle.

“Why don’t you run from me?” the monster growled.

“You think I should fear you?” the angel sneered, chuckling softly.

“You know who I am, my reputation. I am deadly. I hold life in my hands.”

The angel laughed, slapping his hand on his thigh, “I should cower under the bed, hiding the way you do? You kid no one, everyone knows you evaporate with the light.”

They circled, searching for a weakness, an opportunity to strike.

“But she hears me. My words echo in her mind long after I have gone,” the monster said as he licked his lips.

“Your words fall apart once removed from the dark,” a fireball gleamed, as it erupted from the angel’s chest.

The monster saw his opening, rearing back he lunged at the angel who sidestepped the assault, using his wings the way a matador uses his cape with a charging bull. As the monster passed, the angel let the fireball fly. It grazed the monster’s shoulder, and he whirled, swiping at angel feet, toppling him to the ground.

The two rolled in the street as I watched in horrified fascination, unable to turn away.

“Submit, you dishonored beast, you will not gain your redemption with her salvation,” the monster howled as he gained the advantage.

“No matter the cost, I will not let you win,” the angel roared as another fireball propelled the monster back.

The struggle continued, both evenly matched, and I watched them bruised and bleeding, determined to fight to the death.

At last, I could stand it no more, the self-mutilation of my fallen cherub and my noble monster and stepped from my hiding place in the dark.

“Enough,” I screamed, and two sets of eyes met mine.

“Neither of you will win, and we all will die. The truth is the decision is mine.”

I paused. They waited, eager to hear my next words.

“Get up. Compose yourselves.” Confused they complied.

“We must learn to live together,” I said. “We are two sides of the same coin, and neither side is fully right nor fully wrong.”

Sheepish expressions met my gaze, and I knew we would live to fight another day.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Inner Conflict – #MenageMonday!

Title: Inner Conflict
Source: #MenageMonday! Challenge Week 2×22
Word count: 250 words

the_fallen_cherub_by_charllieearts_dd0j9ye-fullview.

The Fallen Cherub by CharllieeArts, source

Crouched behind the building’s jutting column, I accessed the alien landscape. Cold, stark and silent they had transported me into a hidden world. We were trapped between reality and dreams.

In the street, stood a glorious black angel his wing unfurled, confronting a monster straight from my nightmares.

“Why don’t you run?” the monster growled.

“I should fear you?” the angel sneered.

“You know my reputation.  I hold life in my hands.”

They circled, searching for a weakness, an opportunity to strike.

“My words echo in her mind long after I have gone,” the monster said licking his lips.

“Your words fall apart once removed from the dark,” a fireball erupted from the angel as he spoke and hurled toward the monster.

The monster saw his opening, rearing back he lunged at the angel. They rolled in the street and I watched in horrified fascination.

“Submit, dishonored beast, you won’t gain your redemption with her salvation,” the monster howled.

“I won’t let you win,” the angel roared as another fireball propelled the monster back.

I couldn’t stand the self-mutilation of my fallen cherub and my noble monster. I stepped from my hiding place and screamed.

“Enough. Neither of you will win, and we all will die. The decision is mine. We must learn to live together,” I said. “We are two sides of the same coin, and neither side is fully right nor fully wrong.”

Sheepish expressions met my gaze, and I knew we would live to fight another day.

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer