The Angler — 100 Word Wednesday

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

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

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

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

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

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

Treasure Hunt — 100 Word Wednesday Week 88

Title:  Treasure Hunt
Source:  100 Word Wednesday: Week 88
Word count: 100 words

Woman-at-book-stand

Image by Bikurgurl

“Are they’re watching us?” Meghan asked, “Is it even there?”

“You read the clue,” Harvey said. “See her? No one will suspect her.” Harvey nodded at the old woman walking towards them.

“No, please? I hate taking over old people’s bodies,” Meghan shivered as she spoke.

Meghan guided the woman’s body to the bookstand and rummaged in the back, right corner. She felt a thin, round stick and secreted it into the fold of a magazine she made the woman purchase. As Meghan walked past Harvey’s hiding spot, the wand slipped to the ground and rolled into his waiting hands.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Gone — FFfAW Challenge – 182th

Title:  Gone
Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
Word count: 165 words

Foggy-window-deserted-street

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

It was cold outside, and the Jeep’s heater didn’t work. Condensation formed on the window while I waited. I rubbed my hands together, leaned over and blew. My breath warmed them for an instant. With my right hand, I smeared the foggy window. I needed to watch the street, needed proof she wasn’t there.

I tucked my hands under my armpits and hunched over the steering wheel. My mind played tricks on me and I heard her call my name. She wasn’t there. I couldn’t admit the truth. Not yet. I didn’t want to feel, not the heartache or the choking in my throat. I didn’t want to barter with the devil. I’d bring her back for the price of my soul.

Hot tears fell on my checks. Did I have the strength to carry on, or did I let the jeep’s carbon monoxide take away my pain? They’d tell me I’d make it, and I’d find somebody new. For now, I waited and prayed.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Yellow Rain

Rain fall trees abandoned deck furniture

Photo credit: jonhyblaze on Visualhunt.com / CC BY

Autumn crept into our lives, a welcome relief to the steaming summer sun. Guests abandoned the lodge and staff made plans for new adventures in faraway places.   A few guests, reluctant to acknowledge the change, clung to the lodge and the summer events that slowly faded into memory.

Brennan’s contract included closing for the season. He had been eager to arrive, caught up in the excitement and anticipation of the brochure’s promises.  Now, he found himself resentful of the summer ghosts, who had changed venues and left him behind.

“I can leave Friday,” he said to himself with increasing frequency as the week slowly advanced. Brennan tore through the closing procedures, hoping to fill the remaining time. On the deck last night, they performed a final farewell, toasting summer’s end into the small morning hours. Today, they vanished along with the sun. The clouds and perpetual drizzle bid them goodbye.

Brennan performed one last check, testing locks and making everything secure. He had forgotten the furniture on the deck. As he worked the rain plip-plopped on fading leaves and bounced on the soaked wooden deck boards. The leaves quivered from the onslaught. Sagging beneath the added weight, they maintained their precarious position until a light breeze severed the last connection and they tumbled to the ground.

Impatient, and ready to leave, Brennan finished his list.  His luggage stowed in the last car in the parking lot he was on his way. Brennan never looked back as his car sped through the forest of yellow rain, attempting to catch his future.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer