November

Snow Day — FFfAW Challenge

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 10 Comments

Title: Snow Day
Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
Word count: 175 words

snow-covered-benches

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

They texted the announcement as I was going to bed. It was too quiet outside, and I was suddenly awake. I pulled on my robe, headed downstairs and opened the blinds to a world turned white.

Fat fluffy flakes fell, obliterating the view. The grass disappeared, replaced by a downy blanket of snow. I opened the door and stepped outside.

The silence pounded my eardrums. I threw my head back, spread my arms wide, catching snowflakes with my face and tongue. Cold seeped around the edges of my warm robe and I shivered. I dreamed of my magical snow globe world and my horse-drawn sleigh appeared.

My handsome white steed nuzzled my cheek, and I fed him the sugar cube he loved so well. I hugged his neck, petted his silken mane, then crawled into the sleigh and snuggled into the blankets. Off we flew, surveying my lands, greeting my people and dancing until I could dance no more. Exhausted I slept.

When I awoke, I read the text again. “Classes cancelled due to snow.”

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Catch of the Day — Friday Fictioneers

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 52 Comments

Title: Catch of the Day
Source:  Friday Fictioneers sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Word count: 100 words

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

I waded into the freezing water.

Ma fished upstream where I had fought my sister for the salmon Ma caught. Tired, I headed downstream, searching for my spot. Water gushed over a rock ledge and hidden beneath it sat a salmon.

I waded deeper. The salmon rested in a channel, facing the rock wall. I cut off his exit, grabbed hold with both paws, claws sinking into fish flesh.

I clamped my jaws around him as he flopped, spraying water everywhere. Gripping him in my mouth, I ran for the grassy bank. This salmon was mine, and I wasn’t sharing.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Triumph — 100 Word Wednesday

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 7 Comments

Title: Triumph
Source:  100 Word Wednesday: Week 97
Word count: 100 words

No one noticed Jacques-Louis. In the streets no one stared, only brushed past him as he hurried to his destination. Those who met him found it difficult to hide their disappointment. He was not the man they had imagined, not the image they had conjured in their mind. Surely, he was not the epitome of strategical genius, wielder of power, a titan of business?

Jacques-Louis average looks, his middle-class clothes, disarmed his adversaries, made them discount him, discredit and dismiss him. He smiled, pressed his advantage and struck the killing blow.
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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Where the Puck’s Going — Three Line Tales

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 4 Comments

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

backyard-ice-rink-kids-skating

photo by Priscilla du Preez via Unsplash

A boy watched the Oilers defend their home turf.

The Great One left big shoes to fill, his records huge, many, and unbroken.

A boy was training in his own backyard Coliseum and dreaming of greatness.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The Watched — Friday Fictioneers

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 47 Comments

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

under-bridge

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Josh scanned the area, ever vigilant. It was quiet. He saw no one. Still, they could be watching. They watched, long distance, and the Borg people made it easy. He tossed his pack watching it land. It thumped on solid ground. A final scan. Satisfied he climbed the railing, feet dangling he let go.

Under the bridge was everything he needed, clean water, a rock chair, and a place to sleep. The waterline said the flooding wouldn’t reach him. Content, he unpacked supplies from his pack and prepared his camp. In the daylight, he could sleep. Tonight, he would run.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Carol of the Bells — Weekly Writing Challenge

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Title: Carol of the Bells
Source:  Weekly Writing Challenge #167
The five words: VOICE, BELL, PRACTICE, SERVE, CLUE
Word count: 217 words

The cacophony of voices ascended to the church’s vaulted ceiling, swirling into the gilded dome, reaching toward heaven then echoed back to earth. With a sharp “click, click, click”, the director tapped his baton on the black metal music stand. A hush descended. The silence lay thick on the marble floor, muffling small movements as the group took their assigned places.

The director surveyed the group, assessed their readiness, commanded their attention and smiled. He lifted the baton, and everyone inhaled in anticipation. On the first beat, they sang with one voice, a singing bell supported the ostinato and angels reflected perfection to the mortals below.

The director led them through practice twice more before he was satisfied.

 ***

Sister Bernadette was called to serve long ago when she was a young girl. Today’s mass was special for her, it marked the anniversary of her ordination. She watched the director raise the baton, the music swelled, and she closed her eyes. Sister Bernadette felt her soul soar with the music when she opened her eyes she gazed upon the face of an angel.

“Please,” the word was barely audible harmonizing with the bells. “May I have a hint? One tiny clue?”

The angel shook his head causing the pealing of tiny bells.

“The answer lies in your heart.”

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

School Day Dreams — FFfAW Challenge

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 12 Comments

Title: School Day Dreams
Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
Word count: 170 words

construction-site

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

The entirety of his life led him to today. The first day of construction left Tony wondering if it was still a dream.

He remembered sitting in the drafty, dark boxes they called classrooms at Central School. Built in 1916, the building needed more than updates. The dark gymnasium doubled as the school cafeteria. It oozed an odd combination of teenage sweat, warmed mystery meat, and spinach. Eight years there drove him to study architecture and how students learned.

Tony’s vision was a 126,000-square-foot, state-of-the-art complex that would accommodate students from pre-kindergarten programs through eighth grade. He envisioned a bright and airy building. His design integrated solar panels into the architecture to provide electrical power and a passive heat exchanger to provide indoor thermal comfort while minimizing or eliminating energy consumption.

It took fourteen months to raise the money and get approvals. Now, the $31.3 million building of his was almost a reality. He projected eighteen months of construction and the new school would open in time for fall classes.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

First Frost

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 15 Comments
Frost-on-grass-red-maple-leaf-with-frost-in-dappled-sunlight

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

A timid morning ray reached through the window, warmed my face, tugged my eyelids, and coaxed me to wake with the newborn day. I yawned, stretched and felt the chill air, a chill that was absent when I fell to sleep.

It was a time when nights pushed back the edges of day and cool fingers plucked warmth from the sun. The sun would submit, darkness would rule the world allowing the handmaidens of snow and ice to dance while summer slumbered.

For now, there were preparations needed ahead of darkness’ descent. I rose, dressed and flung open the door. Night’s chill reached into my lungs, stealing my breath while the sun dazzled my senses with crystalline grass and lace-edged leaves. My hand touched the shawl hanging on its peg where I had abandoned it months before. Delicate wool magically constructed stored welcome warmth, my shield, my protector. Armed, I stepped into a world transformed.

The dazzling display would fade, it was the harbinger, a gentle warning to make haste. My sisters emerged, we marveled a moment, then without a word, we spread iridescent wings, and rising like the mist, we flew.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Barre Work — Weekly Writing Challenge

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Title: Barre Work
Source:  Weekly Writing Challenge #166
The five words: POSE, FLOW, ORDER, BLEND, REHEARSE
Word count: 372 words

graffiti-ballerinas-painted-on-a-wall
Photo by Renee Fisher on Unsplash

“Ladies, ladies. Your places at the barre if you please.”

Madame de Valois clapped her hands and ten pink tutus bounced and flounced as the ladies scurried to the barre.

“Today we will work on each pose. I think some of you have forgotten the basics. So, we will drill.”

At the barre, eyes rolled and at least two ladies hung their heads and a few giggled. Vera was the exception. She stood straight, heels together, feet turned out and her arms correctly positioned in first.

Madame de Valois moved along the barre, addressing each one lifting a chin here, straightening a shoulder alignment there and adjusting everyone’s turn out. When she reached Vera, she made no adjustments, only stared at her for a long moment before moving on.

“Now, we will flow into second…” Madame moved her feet and extended her arms as she sang her words to the class. She led the class through each position in order, repeating the positions, reiterating the correct postures as she moved to each lady at the barre.

“You must strive to blend one movement into the next,” Madame demonstrated as she spoke, and the ladies mimicked her. She instructed them in their drills for almost an hour before she allowed them to break.

“Okay ladies, rehearsal, tomorrow, nine am sharp. Do not be late,” Madame clapped her hands as she enunciated each word. Her ladies squealed with delight in being released and some groaned at the thought of tomorrow’s rehearsal. Pink tutus jostled and flapped, and pink leotards shuffled pink ballet slippers toward the door.

“Remind your parents,” Madame called after them. “Nine am.”

At the door, Vera paused, turned and rushed back to Madame to fling her arms around Madame’s slim waist.

“I love ballet, Madame de Valois,” Vera said as she crushed Madame, squeezing her so it nearly took Madame’s breath away.

Madame de Valois petted Vera’s blond curls that had escaped from her tight bun and gave her a small hug before Vera turned and skipped out the door. Alone in the mirrored room, Madame brushed the sudden dampness from her eyes. Without thinking, she took three running steps performed a Grand Jete en Tournant and stepped from the studio.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer