Vernal Serenade – 3 Line Tales

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

A faint warble penetrates the frozen windowpane and evokes memories of gentler days.

Days devoid of blistering cold with winds that test my resolve as they sling snowflake barbed insults.

The sweet song of summer is not my imagination, for in the barren feeder sits the harbinger of Spring.


Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Book Savant – 100 Word Wednesday

Title: Book Savant
Source:  100 Word Wednesday: Week 106
Word count: 100 words

Photo by Darwin Vegher

Viola surveyed the books piled floor to ceiling in no clear order. It was a place Sebastian would like.

“Can I help you, Miss…?” the voice behind her paused, waiting.

“Viola,” she said turning toward the old gentleman.

“Call me, Captain,” he extended his hand which Viola shook politely.

“I’m looking for my brother, Sebastian.”

“Viola and Sebastian?” he repeated before dashing down an aisle.

Viola blinked as the Captain reappeared and pushed a book into her hands.

“Shakespeare, Twelfth Night,” he said answering her confused look.

Viola held the book but said nothing.

“Your answers are there,” he said.


Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Relying on Promises — Friday Fictioneers

Title: Relying on Promises
Source:  Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

PHOTO PROMPT © Renee Heath

“This is better,” Wyome proclaimed, watching the sunset.

“The ancestors’ prayers, answered,” Noshi said raising the firewater bottle to his lips. He drank and passed it to Tatonga, who lifted the bottle, saluting the sun and the ancestors in a single gesture.

“Here’s to Wakan Tanka and no White Man interference,” Tatonga toasted, before drinking from the bottle.

“To Gitche Manitou,” Wyome and Noshi said in unison.

“You think they’ll stay locked inside?” Wyome asked.

“Has the White Man ever keep his word?” Tatnonga countered.

“We’ll enjoy it while it lasts,” Wyome said taking the bottle as the others nodded.


Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Stolen Temple — 3 Line Tales

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

photo by Sam Loyd via Unsplash

There are devils standing to the left and to the right, I feel their cold despair and know their soul desire is to tear my world apart.

There are voices in the sky, saying on you I can rely, but their words are only lies.

They are the thieves that stole my heart, robbed me of your love, and now the thieves rule the temple tonight.


Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

TP Toddlers — FFfAW

Title: TP Toddlers
Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – Week of 01-22 through 01-28-2019
Word count:  170 words

This week’s photo prompt is provided by H.R.R. Gorman. Thank you H.R.R.!

Nicky had spent twenty-four hours walking the floor with the baby. The doctor diagnosed a cold. Nothing to worry about he said. The baby thought otherwise, crying inconsolably. Nicky cooed and sung lullabies and tried to sooth the baby and watch her two older children.

She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she woke in a panic. The baby lay sleeping in her crib. Nicky watched the steady rise and fall of her chest. Relieved, Nicky rubbed her groggy head and went in search of her other two children.

They were not in their beds and the house was strangely quiet. She walked into the living room where she surveyed rearranged furniture, draped with bedsheets and rolls of toilet paper. Her two little ones lay asleep in the makeshift fort.

Her oldest stirred and smiled at her.

“I watched Jamie,” he said. “We made a fort. Do you like it, Mommy?”

“It’s a great fort. Is there room for me?”


Nicky crawled beneath the toilet paper canopy and hugged him.


Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

In A Corner — Thursday Threads

Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

“I need you to stay quiet and out of sight,” Marie said, searching her two babies’ faces. “Joshua, take care of Annie, okay?”

His lips form a hard line across his face and Annie looked scared, her sweet two-year-old mind incapable of understanding. Joshua wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

Marie placed her index finger to her pursed lips, smiled, then closed the cabinet door. Gripping the gun behind her back, she listened as the intruder searched for them.

She turned facing the locked door. He was getting closer. She listened to his footsteps, watched the doorknob shake.

The door shook, bouncing in its frame as the intruder kicked, once, twice. The wood splintered with a sickening sound and cracked around the hinges. One more kick and he would be in. The gun wobbled in her hand. It was heavy, and terror threatened to consume her, as unshed tears blurred her vision.

“This isn’t helping. You’re all they have.”

She inhaled, planted her feet hip distance apart, squared her shoulders and adjusted her grip. Steady now, her terror receded, replaced by anger.

“How dare you break into my home? Threaten my babies?”

A final kick sent the door flying inward, crashing to the floor, it skidded towards her. She didn’t flinch as it stopped inches from her feet. Face to face with the intruder he stared at her for a moment before he howled. It almost sounded like laughter, but she wasn’t laughing.

Marie took aim and fired.


Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Earning Trust — Friday Fictioneers

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



Avielle walked a path they didn’t see. She didn’t understand their blindness, but she was thankful for their ignorance and their dependence on her. She couldn’t harm them when they needed her protection from the odd things happening in her woods.

No birds sang, and the woods held its breath as it waited. Nothing seemed right. Avielle stopped at the edge of the clearing.

Deep in the hollow engine compartment of the long abandon car, green eyes glowed. The eyes bore into her heart, searching, begging for mercy and protection.

Hand outstretched, she moved forward, hoping it wasn’t a trap.


Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The House Whisperer– Weekly Writing Challenge

Title: The House Whisperer
Source:  Weekly Writing Challenge #176
Word count:  270 words

Photo by Nolan Issac on Unsplash

Removing his baseball cap, Wyatt wiped his sweaty forehead on his shirtsleeve.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked the empty room. The house creaked and a tree branch scraped the windowpane behind him.

A gentle breeze blew through the open window, the only one not painted shut. Sheets of peeled paint littered the floor. Losing their battle with gravity, they released their tenuous grip on the ceiling and floated to the floor. The welcome breeze sent a small piece scudding along the exposed and rotting subfloor like an albino fall leaf.

His rational side told him to reject the project and walk away. The house had other plans.

It was the geezer’s fault Wyatt was attempting the impossible. He wished he hadn’t gone to the lumberyard, hadn’t talked to the grizzled, toothless man, hadn’t listened to his story. He told Wyatt the house’s history, its legacy. It was a beloved family home and a social gathering place. People traveled from faraway places to attend parties and hobnob with the family.

Wyatt asked the fateful question.

“Oh? What was the family name?”

“Newberry,” the geezer said with no hesitation.

“Newberry? Are you sure?”

“Sure as I’m standing here,” was the confident reply.

“But, that’s my name.”

The geezer laughed and walked away, leaving Wyatt wondering.

They said he was crazy.

Wyatt intended to alter the floor plan and update the historic home to accommodate his family’s modern lifestyle. Enlarging the back windows would maximize the natural light and the lake view. He would repaint the front facade in period-appropriate colors, colors his great-great-grandfather selected.

The family legacy would continue.


Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The Devil’s Dance — #MenageMonday

Title: The Devil’s Dance
Source:  #MenageMonday! Challenge Week 2×17
Word count:  250 words


“Damien?” I asked as I entered the small lecture hall. Damien didn’t answer, his frantic scribbling transported him a million miles away.

“Damien,” I whispered, placing my hand on his thin shoulder.

Glazed eyes scanned my face, but he didn’t see me. He returned to his work, scrubbing a variable he replaced with a function. Confusion etched his face as he paused, then looked at me. This time, he blinked and rubbed a chalk flecked hand across his face.

“What time is it?”

“Nine. Have you been here all night?”

“I was home. Sleeping. I had the answer. Now, it’s not working.” Damien said waving his hands.

“It was probably just a dream,” I said as I tried to decipher the gibberish he had written.

“No,” Damien yelled. His eyes danced, alternating between me and the board. Dilated pupils made his blue eyes look black.

“It was her. She told me how I get her. How I save her.” Damien’s voice cracked as he spoke, and he ran his tongue over cracked, parched lips.

“You mean the girl with the two little horns?”

“Yes. She pointed them at me. I saw the answer on the banner, between her horns.”

“Is this it?” I asked motioning at the equations.

“Yes. I mean, no. Not quite. I just have to remember.”

He leaned against the desk and buried his face in his hands.

I draped my arm around his shoulder, aware of his dilemma. Damien had found the devil in the details.


Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Day Warriors — 3 Line Tales

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

photo by Nattu Adnan via Unsplash

Dawn teased open young eyes that greeted the day with energetic curiosity.

Whirling dervishes sped away from Dawn, trailing gales of giggles that transformed into belly laughs and faces filled with wonder.

The day warriors pressed onward, and Dawn smiled wearily knowing they would soon collapse into the deep sleep of the innocent.


Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer