challenge

Almost Friends — 100WW

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Title:  Almost Friends
Source:  100 Word Wednesday: Week 90
Word count: 100 words

I saw the big brute and froze. Too late, big red ears flapped, slapping his jowls as he lumbered toward me, stopping a few feet away.

My heart was a jackhammer trying to crack a concrete chest. He heard it, advanced, then collapsed, his pointy, sniffing nose buried in fallen leaves. Eye to eye we stared. Stalemate.

My nose betrayed me, twitching twice. His eyebrow leaped skyward, his ears followed, he lunged, and a long, pink tongue licked my head leaving a slobbery streak between my ears.

The spell broken, I jackrabbited through the leaves. He barked but didn’t follow.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

 

Tap and Stitch — FFfAW Challenge

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Title: Tap and Stitch
Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
Word count: 175 words

walls-of-mismatched-shoes-sandals-on-peg-board

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

“Are they asleep yet?” Tap whispered from the inky shadows of the rain barrel.

“The light is out, but we should wait, make sure they’re fast asleep.”

“Stitch, you’re too cautious. They’ll never hear us.”

“Shh. You mean they’ll never hear me.”

Tap scooped up a pebble and lobbed it in Stitch’s direction. The stone skidded to a stop inches from his feet. Even in the darkness Tap saw the smile spreading across his face. She loved Stitch and his sense of humor. They had been together forever, on a joyous adventure. She smiled, remembering while they waited.

“Tap, come on,” Stitch hissed as he walked through the brick wall. Tap snapped back to reality and followed.

Inside the workshop Tap and Stitch stared at the pile of shoe leather.

“Ooh,” Tap rubbed her hands over the leather before jumping into the center of the pile.

Stitch giggled and landed in the pile next to her.

“Ready to make shoes?” Stitch asked.

Tap rubbed the supple leather against her cheek and nodded.

“Ready,” she said.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Delusional Distraction — 3 Line Tales

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

1950s-style-TV

photo by Sven Scheuermeier via Unsplash

Come one, come all, gather your family and prepare to be amazed by the newest invention.

Forget your fears and the fallout shelters, the emanate risk of nuclear destruction, and Sputnik the spy.

It is Sunday night, and it is a Wonderful World.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The Angler — 100 Word Wednesday

/ JoHawkTheWriter

Title: The Angler
Source:  100 Word Wednesday: Week 89
Word count: 100 words

coral-reef-aquarium

Image by Bikurgurl

Fisk’s head protruded from his hiding spot. Nothing caught his attention, so he ducked back inside, but he kept a watchful eye looking outward. He wiggled and shifted in the tight confines. He spent most of his time waiting, waiting and watching. Fisk blinked, opened his mouth wide and snapped it closed. A flash of yellow caught his attention, a damselfish, just out of striking distance. His nose detected a familiar scent, a crab was scuttling his way. He waited until the right moment, then lunged, clamping his powerful jaws around his victim. Crab was the Fisk Moray’s favorite meal.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Dale’s Diner — Friday Fictioneers

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Title:  Dale’s Diner
Source:  Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

umbrellas-in-rafters

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

The hurricane was brutal. It swept through town leaving destruction in its wake. The roof was ripped from Dale’s Diner, but the structure remained intact. Dale was a veteran hurricane ridder and had learned his lessons. His restaurant equipment was portable, and Dale had trucked it inland with the generators ahead of the storm. His seasoned crew trickled in when the storm passed. They bailed water, disinfected and unloaded equipment and food when the trucks returned. Within hours, Dale’s Diner was up and running. Getting hot food to the town’s people and relief workers was the key to their recovery.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Honey — FFfPP Week 38

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Title:  Honey
Source:  FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER
Word count: 190 words

Setter-dog-running-through-water-honey-colored

MorgueFileJune2018 1418535473h5g6w

Honey showed up on the farm one warm spring morning. She was thin, her fur matted and dotted with cockleburs. Honey was shy but friendly enough. After a good meal, she allowed me to comb her and gently remove the burs. I called her Honey because of the color of her coat, but the name accurately described her personality. Honey proved to be a good hunter, she would disappear and return with prize captures of pigeons, mice, and other varmints. I exchanged her quarry for a meal, a bath, and quiet companionship.

All summer I watched after her, knowing she was more than capable of taking care of herself but happy when Honey came to visit me. Summer faded to fall, and I received news Rob suffered injuries in the war. Each day I waited, and Honey waited with me. The days crept, and my worry grew. How badly was he hurt, and did he have someone caring for him? The day came, and Rob arrived. His wounds were deep, but they would mend. I heard Honey moved on to Johnson’s farm where Rachel waited for news of her husband.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Next Season — FFfAW Challenge

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Title:  Next Season
Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
Word count: 175 words

Lovers-on-beach

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Michelle DeAngelis. Thank you, Michelle!

My thundering heartbeat pulsed, obliterating the sound of the crashing surf. Its steady thumping was the only sound I heard as I stared at her face, trying to understand.

“Jeremy are you ok?” she asked.

I didn’t respond as I struggled to comprehend. Every second together we documented and shared with the world. The first time I saw her, our first date, our first kiss and my declaration of undying love, were tested, rated, liked and judged. My moves were orchestrated, planned and executed ensuring I won her heart.  And it worked. Last night I held her close, and she told me she loved me, and she wanted to grow old together.

“How did this happen?”

“Jeremy, you know the rules. They voted, and the results are in. I am in love with Gabe and will marry him.” She kissed my cheek and walked away. The director motioned, and the camera zoomed, recording my tears, capturing every emotion before they drifted away following her, the star. Stunned, I smiled, knowing I was next season’s star.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Chevy — FFfPP Week 37

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Title:  Chevy
Source:  FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER
Word count:  180 words

Chevy-truck-cornfield-pumpkins

MorgueFile May 2018 1413924415vgvbk

This summer we lost the red Chevy pickup in a sea of weeds. Bob asked if I remembered seeing it. I pointed to a patch of six-foot-high water hemp and redroot pigweed. Dotted here and there was Queen Anne’s Lace, milkweed, and thistle. As the weeds swayed in the breeze, you could glimpse the top of the cab.

“Hm, someone needs to see about that,” Bob said before he turned and headed to the barn. A couple hours later, Bob had dispatched the weeds, and the Chevy stood proudly on the rough-cut field.

“The Chevy looks lonely out in the field all by its lonesome,” I said to Bob as we sipped our morning coffee in the kitchen.

“I suppose someone should do something about that,” Bob said before draining his coffee cup. He set the cup in the sink, gave me a peck on the cheek and headed to work.

Later, I paused my work and saw the Chevy had new friends.  Piled on the truck’s bed, in the cab, and the ground were hundreds of pumpkins. I laughed.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Escape Plan — Friday Fictioneers

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

Wooden-carved-mechanical-clock

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Gerard paused before opening the door. Tired from a long day’s work, he could hear his family screeching and shrieking behind the door. He squared his shoulders and entered.

After dinner, he escaped and snuck into his shed. Gerard spent peaceful hours designing, sawing, carving and assembling his wooden creations. He often fell asleep at his bench and his wife would wake him to come to bed.

“You should spend time with the family,” she would say. Gerard would shrug, he knew she wouldn’t understand.

When he died, they discovered ornately designed and carved mechanical clocks hidden in the rafters.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer