Sunday Solitude – Warm Up Exercise

Photo via Visualhunt.com

Gary enjoyed his Sunday afternoon ritual. On Sundays, the lavanderia was empty. Other days it was full of people rushing with the weeks washing. Sundays were for sleeping late, for church, and for spending time with family. Gary didn’t mind sleeping late.

Every Sunday was the same. With a basket of laundry tucked under his arm, he stopped at the shop on the corner to pick up a newspaper and a beer. As the machine cleansed his clothes of offensive grime, he settled in to read of the transgressions of the politicians and the misdeeds of the famous. Sometimes, hidden in the columns, he found a story of a Samaritan. He raised a toast to the Samaritan and took a long drink from the bottle.

Laundry done, he downed the last of the beer before chucking the empty bottle and the newspaper in the bin. The article of the Samaritan neatly folded with the laundry, he made his way home.

______________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Tradition in Style– 3 Line Tales


photo by Cathal Mac an Bheatha via Unsplash

 

From Sonya’s 3LineTales

at Only100Words. You can find the original prompt here.

Thank you  Sonya.

 

In the old days, we trusted the boucherie, steeped in tradition, cuts made to order.

Progress, modernity, sterile plastic wrapped offerings stripped of the connection to the animal, to the land, nearly closed the age-old shop.

Now the new resembles the past, trusting in the butcher, connecting us with the animal, the land ensuring tradition, ensuring the highest quality.

______________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Reflections – 100WW

Image Credit: Matias Larhag

Title: Reflections

Source: 100 Word Wednesday: Week 11

Word count: 100 words

She signed the document and the shouting, the arguing, the accusations, the blame and humiliation became things of the past. The self-doubt, the insecurities, the hurt, the betrayal and the miss-trust remained. The pity in other eyes left scars on her soul.

Her life was perfect once. Like the postcard view, calm, serene, beautiful, carefully cropped to hide the horrors of the truth. The pen altered her reality, leaving her at a crossroads without a map, without direction.

Wounded, ruined, cast into despair, she cradled a small ember. The spark she had protected. Now she coaxed her phoenix to rise.

______________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Broken Promises — Friday Fictioneers

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

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

Gabriella’s hands clutched the icy iron pickets, her heart pounded as she stared at the house, hoping for a sign. Birds chirped, and wind caressed her cheek flipping her hair across her face. Nothing else moved.

She waited until her hands turned blue and her body trembled in the frigid air. The truth seeped from the dark corners of her mind, gathering speed until the iron freight train blasted the words she feared from the start. He wasn’t coming.

It was all a lie. Gabriella turned away from the future he had so sweetly promised and walked to the river.

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The Power of Music — FFfAW


This week’s photo prompt is provided by Sunayana MoiPensieve. Thank you for our photo prompt!

Title: The Power of Music
Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – Week of March 21, 2017
Word count: 150 words

Oliver’s first love was music. His hands played beauty, carried emotions, connected him with others who recognized his joy. He was alive when he played.

Convinced this love was fleeting, seeing only harm in his devotion, his parents encouraged him to find love elsewhere. To look towards a love to sustain him for his entire life. A love allowing him to provide for a wife, a family, enabling him to have the finer things in life and retire in comfort.

To please his parents, he sacrificed, denied his love, took her as his mistress. Clandestine meetings, stolen moments, whispered promises of someday, made when no one could hear. Publicly, he followed the money, intent on keeping his promises.

The money came at a price. A blackmail he no longer wished to pay. He confessed his love, embraced his true love, the one that would sustain him for his entire life.

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

On Guard — FFfPP

Title: On Guard
Source: FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER- 2017 WEEK #13
Word count: 200 words

John didn’t know why he did it, really. He hadn’t ever given it much thought. When pressured for an answer, he said it was genetic. He liked most of the people he met. And he met every kind, the best and the worst of humanity each of them searching.

He stayed with the police department ten years after he was eligible for retirement. When off duty, he took side jobs, working as a security guard at the bank, the jewelry store and sporting events at the high school. It wasn’t a job. Nothing like how his friends described their jobs. He enjoyed his work, and he did it well. The years had taught him to recognize trouble at a glance; he knew the smell of trouble as any well-trained fox hound knew the fox.

John watched the group standing at the coffee kiosk, his gaze concentrated on one man. John felt the old familiar feeling deep in his gut. The group moved. John followed, hanging back to avoid being seen, making mental notes of their features, their cloths the way they moved. He rode down the escalator as they disappeared around the corner. John would be there when trouble started.

__________________________________________
Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Spring Snow – Warm up Exercise

Photo credit: Jyrki Salmi via Visualhunt / CC BY-NC-SA

The calendar said it was spring. Winter didn’t agree. Spring break found Paloma at her parent’s farm helping with the lambing. It was a busy time at the farm and they appreciated the extra help.

She stayed later than common sense allowed, but she couldn’t leave the last lambing ewe. Five years ago, Dad let her pick a lamb to raise for her 4H project. After assessing each new lamb on the farm, she had chosen one and named her Juju. Juju won blue ribbons for Paloma and she considered it her duty to make sure she lived. Two big boys fought to win the title of firstborn followed by their smaller, meeker sister.

Dad looked at the sky and reminded Paloma the forecast predicted snow. She glanced back at the pen to see the boys now fighting for a place at their mother’s utter and laughed. Mom had packed her car for the trip. She told Paloma of the care package stashed in a box on the back seat as she hugged her goodbye.

The storm hit Paloma an hour into the drive back to school along a lonely patch of road that snaked through hills and forest. The voice on the radio informed her the storm was developing into a blizzard. She leaned forward over the steering wheel searching for signs of the road she knew lay under her wheels, at least for the moment. White flakes danced in the headlights, obscuring what lay ahead. Patches of the road flickered in and out of sight as the wind buffeted the front end of the car threatening to run her off a road she no longer trusted. The guardrail guided her around a curve and warned her of the steep drop off on the other side.

“This is crazy. I’m going to end up dead,” Paloma thought as another blast shook the car and she felt tires spinning on ice. She took her foot off the gas pedal allowing the tires to regain their grip on the road. The guardrail ran out as the car slowed. Paloma recalled a section not far ahead where the land was level and the shoulder widened. She braked, pulled the car off the road and slid the gear selector to park. She collapsed across the steering wheel, her hands shaking.

The storm roared around her, but for now she was safe and warm. Thanks to Mom, there was plenty of food and a warm blanket in the back seat. She checked her cell phone. As expected, there was no signal here. The radio worked, and she settled in to wait out the storm. She searched for headlights, a sign of life. There was nothing.

She woke with a start. No sound, even the radio was silent. A weak light kissed the tops of sugar-coated trees turning the landscape into a confectioner’s paradise. She shivered in the cold. Paloma tried to start the car, the battery cranked, but didn’t have the amps to start the motor. She sighed and considered her options. Still no cell service. There was a town several miles up the road, but it would be a long walk. Paloma grabbed a bag from the back and filled it with supplies for her early morning walk.

An hour into her trek her entire body shivered, too cold. The wind pummeled her every step, threatening to take her breath away. So far, she was the only living thing along the road. In the distance, she saw an old, weathered building. It had seen better days. She stopped realizing other tracks already lead to the building. She needed shelter and a fire before she went any further. Not knowing if the tracks were animal or human, she moved forward. Committing herself to whatever lay ahead.

______________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The Oath – FFfPP

Title: The Oath
Source: FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER- 2017 WEEK #12
Word count: 200 words

 

Gregor brought the Notarzt-Einsatzfahrzeug to a screeching stop a few yards from the helicopter. He grabbed his bag and ran for the door. The helicopter lifted off before the crewman slammed the door behind him. Seconds counted. Gregor tucked the bag between his legs and jammed on the headphones.

“Where’re we going?”

“Zugspitze,” a voice crackled in his ears.

Gregor paled and his hands shook.

“You ok Doc?”

Gregor nodded taking deep calming breaths.

He started this journey long ago when he was just a boy. Determined, persistent, always choosing the most difficult path, it was the only way he knew. Still, he had been the top student in his class. Anything less would have been failure. His time at Universität Heidelberg the “Harvard of German Medical Schools” had been no exception.

With his newly minted Notfallmedizin board certification, this first call determined everything.

The helicopter buzzed to the cliff site. On the ledge below two hikers looked to him to save their lives.

As the basket lowered him to the narrow ledge, he closed his eyes repeating the words that had brought him back to this place today.

“I promise, Dad. I won’t let anyone else die like this.”

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Going Home — 3 Line Tales

photo by Brian Gaid via Unsplash

From Sonya’s 3LineTales at Only100Words.

You can find the original prompt here.

Thank you Sonya.

 

 

Flying always filled her with exhilaration, expectation, the promise of adventure.

Her travels had shown her so much, opened her mind her heart and revealed her destiny.

Today she was leaving the home of her birth to return to the home of her heart.
______________________
Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer

Homage to the Gods — 100WW

Image Credit: Bikurgurl

Title: Homage to the Gods
Source: 100 Word Wednesday: Week 10
Word count: 100 words

Artistry steeped in traditions of five thousand years played out before him. Thespis dared to speak to the chorus giving rise to those who carried his name. Oresteia won Aeschylus accolades with a second thespian for dialog. Sophocles upped the ante, beating Aeschylus in the games with a drama replete with patricide, incest and the failings of Oedipus the King. Euripides showed the gods and their human frailties endearing himself to the crowd.

Dionysus smiled in anticipation. Each production an homage meant just for him. He and the audience sill determined whose name would be immortalized.

On with the show.
______________________
Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer