challenge

Can’t Go Home – 100WW

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Image Credit: Frank Jansen

Image Credit: Frank Jansen

Title: Can’t Go Home
Source: 100 Word Wednesday: Week 8
Word count: 100 words

It felt like he had never left. It felt vaguely foreign too, like a dream not quite remembered. He did remember riding his bike around town, his camera bouncing against his hip as he pedaled. He and the Pentax had been inseparable. Every penny of his allowance or the odd job he got, he used to feed the camera a steady diet of film and then to processed the film into photographs.

The place advertising one hour developing had long since gone out of business. But his photos remained. They helped to reminded him of the pieces he had forgotten.

______________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Apollo Smintheus — FFfPP

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Title: Apollo Smintheus
Source: FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER- 2017 WEEK #10
Word count: 200 words

Eudora shifted the heavy basket from one hand to the other as she paused to adjust the strap of her sandal. She wasn’t far from the temple and was anxious to be finished with the task. The thought of what she had to do repulsed her. But if it saved her mother, it would be a small price to pay.

In the temple, the giant statue of Apollo towered over her. It wasn’t Apollo who made her tremble. The ground beneath the statue, pulsated with the movement of hundreds of mice. She hated mice. Taking a deep breath, she set the basket on the alter and began to prepare the offering.

Eudora placed the thigh bone of the family’s cow in the center of the alter. Repeating the words of the healer, she anointed it with wine and set it on fire. As mice marched across her feet and pulled at the hem of her gown, she wished she could run from the temple. Chanting and praying, she tended the fire, until only the charred thigh bone remained.

“Please live,” Eudora pleaded.

The mice retreated to their burrows as the last tendril of smoke circled towards the heavens. Apollo smiled.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Dinner – FFfAW

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Photo prompt is provided by MajesticGoldenRose

Photo prompt is provided by MajesticGoldenRose

Title: Dinner

Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – Week of February 28, 2017

Word count: 170 words

The children needed to learn there was more than video games and concrete. So, he moved them to the farm and his own childhood. Three faces, alternating between angelic and devilish, kept him on his toes. He had prepared them for today.

“Remember what I told you. The cow is not a pet. We are not naming the cow. He is someone’s dinner. While the cow is here we will feed him, and give him a good life.”

The children had been excited, petting and feeding the cow and asking question after question. He answered while gently reminding them not to name the cow. At last they headed into the house for dinner, homework and bed.

The next afternoon three excited children leapt off the school bus yelling as they ran up the lane.

“Whoa, slow down, one at a time.”

“Daddy can we go feed Dinner now.”

“Dinner?”

“Yes, Dinner the cow.”

“What?”

“You said the cow was Dinner.”

He shook his head and laughed.

“Let’s go feed Dinner.”

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Order of the Unicorn — Three Line Tales

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photo by Fleur Treurniet via Unsplash

photo by Fleur Treurniet via Unsplash

Descendent of the Great Anselm Adornes, Knight of the Order of the Unicorn, faithful servant of the Scottish crown, I clutch at my inheritance, noble born.

Numismatist rating of 100, very rare indeed as any unicorn should be, but also a reminder of the oath of chivalry.

In troubled times with darkness all about, recall the Song of Roland and advance, freed from doubt.

___________________

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

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Etiquette of Looking — Warm Up Exercise

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Photo credit: Curtis Gregory Perry via Visual hunt / CC BY-NC-SA

Photo credit: Curtis Gregory Perry via Visual hunt / CC BY-NC-SA

The city thrusts us together. Your building across from mine, allowing me entry to your life. I know when you leave and when you will return. I know how your day went by the way you toss your keys on the table. The way you arch your back, looking up, hands in your hair to hush the scream.

Tonight, upstairs is preparing for another party. The music will be loud and even I will feel the pulsating subwoofers. Downstairs have left for the weekend, while next door the old lady smokes and orders Chinese. I know your neighbors as well as you know mine and I know mine not at all.

You come to your window, your gaze rakes my building, my window. Stepping back, I grab the remote to flip on the TV. It would not do, if our eyes were to meet. Each thinking the worst of the other. Once, the children downstairs waved, but they too have learned. I flop on the couch turning my head, to see you turn and move toward your kitchen.

Soon, lights will go out, as will mine. I may never know your name, but I will still call you my friend.

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Desolate — FFfPP

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Title: Desolate
Source: FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER- 2017 WEEK #09
Word count: 200 words

It was one of those days. The kind where trouble waited around every corner. A power outage messed with the alarm clock making him late for work, again. The disapproving look of his supervisor cheered him immensely. Shipping delays, cranky customers, and computer crashes competed for the “F bomb” trophy. He told everyone to go to hell, silently, so he wouldn’t forfeit his measly paycheck. To atone for his tardiness, he volunteered to close, letting the other wage slaves scurry home.

A text informed him that he was late to his son’s basketball game and commended him on his father of the year award. He had a word for her too. Tossing the phone in his bag, he headed out. Across the empty parking lot the last bus lurched to the stop light. This was living the dream. He checked his wallet. Enough for a liquid dinner at the Tipsy Cow. The shortcut down the alley earned him a black eye, the liberation of his money and his empty wallet thrown in his face. He didn’t deserve this.

The buzzing penetrated his brain. He slammed the off button and pulled the covers over his head. Thank God it was Saturday.

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

My Greatest Sorrow – Warm up Exercise

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Photo via Visualhunt

Photo via Visualhunt

Birth, life, death. It is inevitable. The circle we all know. Some accept, and some, fixated, rage against the ultimate end. Two tiny points on a line, the first known and celebrated, the other full of mystery and conjecture.

The space they occupy is minuscule compared to what lies between, what defines those who are remembered. Some do much with little. Some do nothing with more than they deserve.

My time feared death. Conservative and careful. Each move measured, calculated to cheat Death. Others took crazy risks, scaled mountains, ran rapids, dared Death to come for them. Death sometimes took one who was too bold, but more often they cheered with exuberance, giddy, exhilarated and joyful. Feelings I would never know. Those Death took were exalted, praised and became legend. Their stories told and retold for generations, for millennium.

I sneered at their foolishness until the day Death came to my door. I pleaded with Death, begged for more. Death paused. More? I nodded yes. But you are already dead, was Death reply. No one attended my funeral, no one seemed to notice. Angels only weep for those who lived.

____________________

Keep on Writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The Hermit — 100WW

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Image Credit: Olivier Guillard

Image Credit: Olivier Guillard

Title: The Hermit

Source: 100 Word Wednesday: Week 7

Word count: 100 words

Once, they came to check on her. But no one had come for many years now. Not since the time when ashes rained from the sky obscuring the light of the sun. There were others, of course.

Today the woods were quiet. She stepped out of the cabin to see a young woman staggering toward her. She was not one of them.

Looking up and seeing the cabin she stopped and began to sob.

“Please, I am alone. No one follows. Will you help?”

She squinted at the young woman to see if she lied. Satisfied, she beckoned her forward.

­­­­­­­­­­­­______________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Lost and Found– FFfAW

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This week's photo prompt is provided by Dawn Miller for our photo prompt this week!

Photo prompt is provided by Dawn Miller for our photo prompt this week!

Title: Lost and Found

Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – Week of February 21, 2017

Word count: 115 words

The roller bag bumped into her leg as she pulled it to a stop next to the railing. She stared at the crowd below, as they hurried to their destination. A tear slid down her cheek.

She had looked for another option, a way out. This was the decision, but it wasn’t much of a choice. No going back, only forward. But forward to where? She looked up hoping for inspiration.

Suddenly, she knew. The answer couldn’t be planned, she needed to improvise. Do something that was out of character, something she would never do, something no one would expect.

Wiping the tears away, she grabbed the bag and headed outside to the taxi stand.

__________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Cut

/ JoHawkTheWriter / 5 Comments
photo by Clem Onojehungo via Unsplash

photo by Clem Onojehungo via Unsplash

The chance of a lifetime required the performance of a lifetime.

A commitment of heart, soul, everything that was, distilled to its essence.

The hope, the dream, is now in the can.

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

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer