Title: The Master’s Hands
Source:  Flash Fiction Challenge
Prompt: Write a story that includes a chisel.
Word count:  99 words

Photo by Bogomil Mihaylov on Unsplash

Turner’s left hand skimmed the tools on the workbench, each tool in its assigned space. To his right, the lathe hummed, a familiar cadence to the master’s tune. His ear told him his piece was unbalanced. Spinning at twelve hundred RPM, the music didn’t sing.

He found the required chisel and returned to his work. Touching his chisel to the spinning form, the tool bounced, and the wood chirped. Firm against the guide, severed wood spiraled in curls, deflected by his visor, the continuous curls covered his hands. He worked meticulously, immersed in the rhythm of his spinning reality.

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Title: Mighty Mouse
Source:  Flash Fiction Challenge
Prompt: Write a story about a mouse.
Word count:  99 words

Photo by MacMillen on Unsplash

I stumble to my desk. The coffee sloshing in my cup slips over the edge trickles down the side and drips onto my freshly printed manuscript.

I blot the drop, but the damage is done. Adding insult to injury I mark the draft with a giant coffee ring. I have no fear. Mighty Mouse will save the day. The laptop purrs, Mighty Mouse chases clicks across the laptop’s screen while I sip my coffee.

The printer springs to life, spitting out pages as the Mouse commands.

The pristine draft restored, it awaits the torture session of the red pen.

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Title: Rolling the Calendar
Source:  Flash Fiction Challenge
Prompt: Write a story using the term backup.
Word count:  99 words

Photo by Uillian Vargas on Unsplash

“I think we made it,” I said, but I spoke too soon.

Ahead, cop cars blocked our way. I slammed the brakes and as we skidded to a stop, I slammed her into reverse. Tires squawking and smoking, I punched the gas and my Dodge Charger lurched.

“Backup, backup, backup,” Harold screamed.

“No, shit Sherlock.”

Picking up speed, I jumped on the brakes, threw her into neutral and cranked the wheel. My baby spun. I shifted into second, then third.

“Hang on,” I yelled, “If the DeLorean can do it, we can.”

A poof of smoke, and we disappeared.

_________________________________________

Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer