Sale Bin Freedom — FFfAW Challenge

Title: Sale Bin Freedom
Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
Word count: 170 words

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

Ellenore rolled the plastic squeeze bottle of paint until the label with the color name faced her. “Ultramarine Acrylic” she read before dropping it into the plastic store basket she held in the crook of her arm. She selected only the Primary colors, Ultramarine Blue, Cadmium Yellow Deep, and Alizarin Crimson. Satisfied she had picked them all out of the sale bin, Ellenore made her way to the checkout.

“Oh, Miss Ellenore,” the brunette clerk greeted her. “I have something for you.” From under the counter, she pulled a large heavy bag and hefted it onto the counter.

“These are all for you. Free. No, no,” the clerk raised her hand to silence Ellenore’s protest. “My manager said you’d be doing us a favor. They’re class leftovers. Not all of them are full, but they’re open, and we can’t sell them. Please? Say you can use them?”

Everyone in town knew her secret. They were happy she was free of him and they knew her art would let her soar.

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Spring Thaw — Thursday photo prompt

Title: Spring Thaw
Source:  Thursday photo prompt: Calm #writephoto
Word count:  430 words

Tree-creek-water-spring-thaw

Tex curled the left side of his lip and made a clicking noise. He squeezed his right knee into Red’s side directing him to turn left.  The snow had melted, and the melt seeped into the ground causing the crick to overrun its banks. Everywhere Red stepped was a mire of mud and muck. In places, Red sank deep into the mud, water rose to his knees and threatened to submerge Tex’s stirrups. Red stepped high, moving deliberately without panic. Tex had felt hesitation in Red’s steps as they slogged forward and knew they’d best turn back. They gained nothing by going further.

The grass was growing, his cattle were hungry, and the feed was running low. Still, he couldn’t turn cattle into this field. Cows might be fine, but many had calved, and a calf wouldn’t survive in this water-sodden land. If they survived the birthing, the calves would succumb to the persistent wet and cold. Cows weren’t God’s brightest creatures so Tex would spend his time keeping them safe.

Red’s hooves sucked and plopped as he moved through the field to higher ground. Tex rubbed his hand across his face, adjusted his hat, then patted Red’s neck.

“What are we gonna do ole boy?” Tex asked. Red tossed his head and snorted. It made Tex laugh.

“You’re always practical Red. Home it is.”

Tex considered his options. There weren’t many. The hay would last another day, two at most. He could supplement corn, but the cows would eat it quickly, and leave him without seed to plant. If he gave the cattle corn, it would mean purchasing more corn to plant his fields. He had less money than hay.

The cattle had grazed their current pasture into submission and the land needed time to regenerate. The last option was purchasing hay and hoping the snow melt dried up soon. Money, again. Tex figured numbers, thought about his money shortage and worried, as Red took them home.

The sun hung low when they approached the barn and Tex figured he had run short of ideas. A meal, a good night’s sleep, and the morning might look less bleak.

Tex woke before dawn to begin his morning chores. As he worked, a plan took shape. He saddled Red. They needed to check the herd, count calves and then head into town. It wasn’t a plan he liked, hell he hated the idea, but it might see him through spring.

Hat in hand, he approached old man McGregor and asked him if he wanted to purchase a hundred head of cattle.

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Big Game Hunting

girls-in-huddle-on-soccer-field

Photo by Jeffrey Lin on Unsplash

This was crazy, or maybe I was nuts. I suspected it bordered on obsession, but I couldn’t help myself.  I had tracked them for weeks, observing them in their natural habitat. Occasionally my best friend, Josh would hang with me. Josh was an expert who often had them eating out of his hand. He gave me tips and offered suggestions, but in the end, I was on my own. Everything depended on my timing, my approach, and a little luck.

I moved carefully so I wouldn’t startle them. I become proficient at knowing where they would be, so I wasn’t always following them. One mistake and they would notice me and bolt. I couldn’t afford to spook them. After a week or two, I knew their honey holes, the places they might be, depending on the time of the day.

Today’s honey hole was the big field behind the gym.

Josh slid in next to me as I manned my hideout by the bleachers.

“Have you gone in for the kill?” he asked.

I glared at him, then shook my head.

“Man, you’re running out of time. What are you waiting for?”

“I’m waiting for my best shot.”

“You mean you’re waiting for her to be alone? Dude. They’re high school girls, they always travel in packs.” Josh shoved my shoulder, hard. “And I ain’t gonna be your date.”

I knew he was right, so I took a deep breath, walked over to Missy and asked her to the Prom.

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Glorious View — Three Line Tales

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

train-on-bridge-in-valley

photo by Jack Anstey via Unsplash

The lonesome whistle boomed across the valley, shook my cell and bore into my soul.

I marked the journeys to and fro, carrying countless passenger to their destinations, to dreamlike places where I could not go.

I imagined travelers viewing my castle’s beautiful tower from afar, wishing they were me and never realizing my dearest wish was to be on the train seated next to them.

______________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Time Capsule — 100 Word Wednesday

Title: Time Capsule
Source:  100 Word Wednesday: Week 96
Word count: 100 words

Eiffel-tower-at-night

Photo by Paul Gaudriault

Life changed after Grandmama died. Papa, a quiet man, retreated further while I mourned. He signed Grandmama’s death certificate and handed me the apartment keys. I wouldn’t live there long.

I was twenty, and I knew Grandmama’s lessons on survival. The apartment, the jewels, the Boldini painting, they bore testament to a woman’s ability to live well.

Soldiers were marching into the city when I fled. I wouldn’t speak of those years again, although I thought of them daily. I kept the apartment and the secrets it held while the memories lived in my heart and the child I carried.

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

 

Altered Potential — Friday Fictioneers

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

PHOTO PROMPT © J.S. Brand

Takoda drove his truck on the wide ribbon of black asphalted four-lane highway. Power lines echoed the roads curves, slashing black streaks across the brilliant blue sky.

He wondered at the trees planted beneath power lines. He cried at the misshapen forms they adapted to grow in a world where men prevented them from reaching their true potential.  He didn’t understand the lack of logic.

They planted trees knowing they would grow, knowing their branches would  intertwine with the lines and require cutting. Five feet of distance and trees and power lines could coexist. It would have changed the world.

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Deluge — Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge

Title: Deluge
Source: Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge
The Prompt: Use these 3 words (gray, wind, echoes) to spark your imagination.  BUT you CANNOT USE these 3 words.

Photo by Caitlyn Noble on Unsplash

The storm blew across the lake, chasing clouds, whipping waves and dancing between the slashing lightning and pelting raindrops. The waves crashed into the rocks spewing geysers of water high into the frigid air.

Aela stood at the precipice, the future balance on the blade of her ax. A modern-day warrior she stood guard, prepared for battle. Unsure of the way forward she was unable to turn back. The scream smashed against the water wall reverberating in her ears as it shattered into frozen shards that slammed her body and slashed her soul.

The storm abated, and she knew what she must do.

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Hey! What Did the Blue Jay Say?

blue-jay-at-feeder

Photo by Faye Cornish on Unsplash

I heard the cry as I opened my eyes.

“Hey. Hey.” The call was sharp and incessant.

It was Saturday, the day I didn’t set my alarm intending to wake when I woke.

“Hey, what did the blue jay say?” Brandon sat in bed flipping the screen on his iPad.

“He says ‘there is no corn in the feeder’.”

“We put food in it yesterday. How can it be empty?”

“Between the squirrels and the jays?” I stretched, rubbed my eyes and squinted at the clock.

“You got an extra hour,” Brandon said swiping his finger across the tablet.

“Is the coffee ready?”

“I heard the buzzer a few minutes ago.”

I grabbed my robe, stuffed my feet into worn slippers and headed downstairs. First order of business was coffee. The aroma greeted me as I entered the kitchen. I took my favorite cup from its peg and filled it to the brim with hot, steamy java. The cup wrapped in both hands I leaned over and took a deep breath, allowing the steam to trickle into my fuzzy brain.

“Hey. Hey.” The call came from beyond the sliding glass door.

“Yes, yes. You want breakfast too.” I took a quick sip before reaching into the full container of corn cobs. We had gathered them from the field after the harvesters finished. My coffee cup in one hand and two big cobs precariously balanced in my arms, I opened the sliding door and stepped onto the deck. A jay sat at the feeder and tipped his head at me.

“Hey. Hey,” he called before he flew away. Another jay perched in the Norwegian Pine twenty feet away.

“Hey. Hey.”

I dumped the cobs on the platform feeder at the deck’s edge and took a seat at the table. A jay swooped in, landing first on the deck rail then hopping to the feeder. The sun was warm, but the air promised snow. I knew it was one of the last mornings I would share breakfast with the jays.

A squirrel chattered in the distance, wanting his share of corn. The jays and the squirrels agreed. It would be a cold winter.

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Sunset City

 

Photo by Max Bender on Unsplash

I press my hand on the glass. It stretches, floor to ceiling forming an invisible barrier between me and the city I love. The day is ending the sun is setting, painting a glorious color display in the sky while the city lights twinkle a light show of their own. I lean forward, my forehead touches glass and I close my eyes imprinting the image in my memory.

Tomorrow a plane will take me far away, and I will leave my city behind. New adventures, new friends, a new beginning for my life. But my heart will remain in the city I love.

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer