Title: Ephemeral Wonderland
Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – Week of May 16, 2017
Word count: 170 words

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

It has been foggy and cold here for several days. The fog lingers on the horizon until the sun rises, warming the air and putting the fog to bed. This morning I woke to a rare surprise. The conditions were perfect, and the signs were promising, so I waited and hoped it would happen. Hoarfrost covered the earth. It transformed the world, covering everything in frost crystal structures that formed on any sub-freezing blade of grass, leaf, branch, fence post or sign. The hoarfrost formed from the moisture in the air, the vapor instantaneously metamorphosing into intricate interlocking patterns.

I dressed, pulled on my wool coat, and my heavy boots before grabbing my camera and headed into wonderland. The silence was deafening. My boots crunched through the snow and echoed for miles. The sun was a fuzzy orb that stained the sky a soft pink that contrasted with the shimmering green of the encrusted pines. I snapped photos preserving the moments until the delicate frost disintegrated in the warming air.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Title: Up on the Roof
Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – Week of May 9, 2017
Word count: 175 words

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

Silvana raced to the rooftop garden stopping at the edge of the manicured lawn. Hands on her hips, she stood gulping the hot, humidity laden air into her lungs. Her gaze fixated on a small patch of green near the horizon where the trees stood like soldiers fighting the buildings that threaten on all sides. She went there whenever she could. She imagined herself beneath the trees, solid earth under her feet. A breeze lifted her auburn tresses, stroking her head as a mother would caress an infant to calm him.

This place was strange. It was her home now, but everything was foreign, rigid, devoid of spirit. The gray walls, the black flooring and the pristine white of the apartment sucked the life out of her. The rooftop held color and living plants, but it felt as sterile as the apartment. Silvana recognized the same bleakness in the faces of the people surrounding her. They hurried caught in their heads, focused on the future, never seeing now. She promised them she would not fall.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Title: A Home at Last
Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – Week of May 2, 2017
Word count: 175 words

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Loretta Notto. Thank yoiu Loretta!

Ren clapped his hands together releasing sawdust and chips of wood from his gloves, sending them floating and swirling into the early evening light. Shoving one gloved hand under his armpit, he pulled his hand free and drug it across his sweaty forehead. He surveyed the bin filled with the logs he had spent the day cutting and stacking. Even though the weather had turned cooler before he began the job, it didn’t help. The saying was true, chopping your own firewood warmed you twice. Ren used a chainsaw instead of an axe, but the saying still held. In another week, he would have logs stacked high, enough for winter.

You could only depend on yourself when you lived in the woods. It was a life Ren loved, but this year was different. His responsibilities were double now. He shook his head still not believing the change. A confirmed bachelor, Ren fell in love when he least expected. That she loved him surprised him even more. His heart pounded in his chest, and he smiled.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Title: Home Cooking
Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – Week of April 25, 2017
Word count: 175 words

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Dawn Miller. Thank you Dawn for our photo prompt!

The sign on the highway promised home cooking. It was the first sign in miles so we pulled off the road. It was an odd old building, two gas pumps stood out front. Inside was part grocery store, part hardware store and restaurant. Tables stood scattered among the aisles of Brillo pads, sandpaper and cans of Pork-N-Beans. Each table numbered from one to twenty and every table occupied with diners.

“Have a seat over there,” said the woman behind the cash register.

A few moments later, she squeezed past the table depositing two miss-matched paper cups and a two-liter bottle of soda on the green and white polka doted table.

“Menu boards up there. I’ll be back to take your order.”

Mel excused herself and headed towards the big sign marked “Restrooms”. I took out my phone and shot a picture to document this odd little world. I knew no one would believe me without it. We ordered off the menu board, expectations set reasonably low.

The first bite explained why the tables were full.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Title: Pike’s Peak or Bust
Source: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – Week of April 18, 2017
Word count: 175 words

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

The Greene farm began at the Forks of Plum Creek on October 29, 1859. Brothers John and Diamond Greene journeyed west to Kansas Territory seeking fortune in the Pike’s Peak Gold Rush. They didn’t find fortune in the bottom of a pan, instead they found it hidden in the piney forest. They built a sawmill and bought out prospectors who went bust. John died one cold winter, but Diamond refused to leave.

The Kansas Territory became the Colorado Territory and then the State of Colorado. As the years passed the family fortune passed from generation to generation. The Greene’s named their heirs Emerald, Royal, Ruby and Crystal in Diamond’s honor. One hundred and fifty years slipped by and the once great Greene family fortunes failed. They sold parcels to finance the farm until a man made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.

The sawmill and farm became a golf course and a subdivision. Family names became street names. The wagon that carried John and Diamond west sat abandoned. The Greene claim was finally a bust.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer