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

The Fairytale — FFfAW

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Tim Livingston with the blog, The ForesterArtist. Thank you Tim for our photo prompt this week!

Title: The Fairytale
Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – Week of March 14, 2017
Word count: 160 words

They told the story every year, but nobody believed it. Only Alufa believed. Mother told her people use to follow the words of the story, but they found nothing. She said it was only a fairytale.

Alufa didn’t accept the argument that since no one had found it, it wasn’t real. This year she decided not to wait any longer. She packed a bag and set out alone, guided only by memorized words and unwavering conviction.

She walked for days, weeks, months, banishing the tendrils of doubt each time they entered her mind. Reciting the words aloud as she walked, she stopped and stared wondering if her eyes merely conjured what she wished to find. She walked closer and tentatively reached out to verify the illusion. Her hand touched metal, the car from the story.

Alufa, collapsed against the rusting metal frame, she had found the portal. The story was true and at last she would lead her people home.

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The End of the Show — 3LineTales


photo by Jake Oates via Unsplash

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

His career far exceeded the average number of seasons, he broke records they said couldn’t be broken; he pushed past pain, and fear, and doubt, to play the game he loved.

It was his body that betrayed him, his arm beyond the ability of the surgeon’s knife to repair.

Here he stood, barely forty, his greatness already in the past facing an uncertain future.

______________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Death Sentence — FFfPP

Title: Death Sentence
Source: FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER- 2017 WEEK #11
Word count: 200 words

It started out as nothing. A small lump, nothing. She almost didn’t mention it to the doctor, and he almost dismissed it out of hand. His nurse encouraged him to perform the biopsy, just to be sure. She hadn’t worried, almost forgot about it until he called with the results.

During that call, nothing transformed itself into total devastation. He informed her he had forwarded her file to an expert in the field. The expert was waiting for her call whenever was convenient for her in the next day or two.

As requested she scheduled the exam and more tests. The verdict remained unchanged. Three to six months before she would die. She thought it incomprehensible how nothing altered her life, her dreams. They could treat it aggressively with chemo and radiation and side effects that might kill her. The treatment might extend her life by a few months. The other option was to do nothing. Her decision.

She examined herself in the mirror, seeing more than her reflection and knew this was not how her story ended.

Months later, the experts declared the treatment a complete success, others called her a miracle.

She called it the will to live.

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The Bequest — FFfAW

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Mike Vore. Thank you Mike for our photo prompt!

Title: The Bequest
Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – Week of March 7, 2017
Word count: 170 words

Harper read the will multiple times, but one bequest still confused her. Alzheimer’s took Mother, but the will was written when she was still lucid, just after Dad past away. There hadn’t been a will when Dad died, but Mother demanded she have one.

Named the executor, Harper found most of Mother’s wishes easy to honor, some even mundane. Still she left one task undone. The attorney finally insisted she finish so the case could be closed.

As Mother wished, the brand new grand piano was delivered to Harper’s house. She placed it in a rarely used room, where it wouldn’t make her wonder.

Months later Aunt Martha came to visit and asked about the piano. Harper told her the story, confessing her bewilderment. Martha hugged her and explained.

“As a little girl, you begged for piano lessons. They couldn’t afford the piano or the lessons. Your mother always regretted it. You don’t remember?”

When Martha left, the piano was moved to the living room and at last Harper understood.

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Behind the Mask – Warm Up Exercise

Photo via Visualhunt.com

Carefully chosen to accentuate my best features, my mask and I ventured into the ballroom. Partners reeled, slipping in and out of view. Some lingered for a moment, a soft caress before the music spun us away. Each one chasing a mask more tempting than the one before.

One mask began to circle back again and again. More alluring that I had dared to dream, full of promise and with eyes only for me. Your mask was a study in perfection. Thrilled, I began to fear the hour of the unmasking. Would you be repulsed by the hidden me? The me who was riddled with doubt and insecurity. The me who never quite measured up to expectations.

We danced in anticipation. You, an expert of every move, calculated and sure. I gallantly attempting to hid my uncertainty, my tentative nature. As the time drew near I became nervous, unsure, perhaps my mask had promised too much. How did I presume to be worthy of one such as you?

The clock chimed, the truth had arrived. Everything revealed. We stood naked, face to face and horror thundered through me. I had failed to consider that your mask would hide a monster.

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer