I don’t usually post political opinions. No need to change course now…here’s a political fantasy 😛
If I was Donald Trump’s sister – god forbid – I’d try to begin a conversation with him that went something like this:
“Donald, go to your room until you can behave yourself. And while you’re there, I suggest you send in your letter of resignation.”
There’s always hope…
Ellespeth ♥
Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. So grateful to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge. This week’s photo prompt is provided by artycaptures.wordpress.com.
When I first saw this photograph I was certain I couldn’t come up with anything. Then, my husband and I made a fresh cherry pie.
Here’s the photograph and my story. Please follow lil froggy for more stories.
Decadence
I have always been of the belief that we must choose our decadent moments gracefully.
For instance, it’s Sunday afternoon. Our daughter, Cici, and her husband are over for supper. I ‘ve hurried Cici into the kitchen to help me with some finishing touches.
“Cici would you make a chocolate dipping sauce for the strawberries?” I ask?
“Sure thing, Mom. Where’s the chocolate?”
I open the spice cabinet and point my cherry pie dipped finger in the direction of the top shelf.
Cherry pie. I smile. Chad, my husband, loves cherry pie. Chad always likes his pie plain. I like my pie with a thick layer of Cool Whip. My daughter likes strawberries dipped in chocolate.
A few moments later I hear Cici cursing under her breath. “Oh Mom! Look at the mess I’ve made trying to microwave the chocolate!”
“That’s lovely, Cici! Just bring that on over to the table,” I say. “We’ll crisp it over the berries and the pie and top it all with this Extra Creamy Cool Whip I’ve been wanting to try.”
Ellespeth
w/c 175
Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. So grateful to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge. This week’s photo prompt is provided by Dorothy. Thank you Dorothy!
I still get so nervous to post here. It reminds me of doing poetry reading long ago. Fiction, like poetry, bares one’s soul.
Please follow little froggy for more stories
Here is the photograph and my story.
The Two Of Us
Lara was healing, so she could laugh again. It wasn’t yet the vibrant laugh she’d had before, but Lara and Trey hoped for the best. They certainly weren’t about to let a life changing fall get the best of them.
“I just can’t stand it that you’re pulling all the weight these days,” Lara said. There were so many pieces and parts of her life that were hurting these last few months.
“Just lean into me, Babe,” Trey pleaded for the hundredth time.
“Don’t you mean lean on you?”
“OK. Lean on me,. It’s all fine with me. Whatever feels best for you.” He smiled Lara’s way. “Now…left,left, left right left. I left my husband alone in the kitchen, scrubbing the dishes,” Trey joked as they did Lara’s leg exercises.
Lara laughed again. It felt good to laugh at reality.
Ellespeth
W/C 141
(the left right left part is some marching drill thingy – probably from the Army – that my PE class used when we had drill class, I think the original one was ‘i left my wife with 48 kids alone in the kitchen scrubbing the dishes’ or something like that)
Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. So grateful to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge. This week’s photo prompt is provided by TJ Paris. Thank you TJ!
Please follow little froggy for more stories
Here is the photograph and my story.
A Party Scene
“Why are you trying to rescue her?” I asked my best friend. I’m not sure. Maybe I raised my voice a decimal or so but not so much that everyone at the party had to turn and stare at me.
“I’m not trying to rescue her.” Claire put her hand on my shoulder – maybe to calm me or maybe to shut me up.
“I saw him kissing her on our front porch!” I shook off her touch. “I was putting our daughter to bed while my husband was kissing one of our party guests.”
Our eyes met. She knew, of course. Marriages go through phases. One is lucky to escape them.
Ellespeth
(W/C 113)
We had roast chicken with carrots and potatoes for supper tonight. I lit a candle. We talked about today and our plans for tomorrow. Now we are listening to Marva Wright belt out some blues. And I am just thinking of stuff…like my life and what’s important to me now.
Yesterday, we made a fabulous blackberry pie:)
Laterz,
Ellespeth ♥
I am not recovering from my injury all on my own. A lot of my recovery – if we count laughter and charm and effort and knowing someone is hoping right along with you…well a lot of my recovery has been at the hands of my loving husband. I haven’t been an easy patient/wife. My effin Cajun has come – more than once or twice – to the surface. But…thank the gods I still feel like writing a love poem here and there.
Thanks to Ben Torode Photography for this kitten photo.
Just Because
I want those times back
when you could squeeze me tight
without the thought
of bones
brittled by life
and genes
and everything else
beyond one’s control.
I want to lose a clothespin
and be able to crawl under the bed
where your sweet lips await
my giggle and a kiss
and no cracking sounds
to echo the lifting of my body
next to yours.
Let’s try that
one more time
a squeeze and a crawl
a curtsy
and a bow
a giggle
and a kiss just because.
Ellespeth
Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. So grateful to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge. This week’s photo prompt is provided by Louise with The Storyteller’s Abode. Thank you Louise!
Please follow little froggy for more stories
Here is the photograph and my story.
Daddy & The Sea
One knows, as a father, that there are days when you really do feel adequate. You take your daughter to the early morning tidal pool. She pokes a thin cypress branch into sea anemones. You put your arm around your wife and smile. Life seems perfect. All the way home you sing ’99 Bottles of Rum on the Wall’.
Hours later you’re on your fishing skiff. You’re circling just beyond what would have been the tidal pool that had brought such joy that morning. It’s high tide. You reach for your cell phone. Thank god there’s a signal.
“Hello?” you hear your frenzied wife answer.
“Hi, Sweetie. I’m here now. Near the tidal pool. Can you ask Emiline where she last remembers seeing her dolly?”
“Ohhhh! Ask her yourself!” your sweet wife replies.
You hear the phone switching hands. “Daddy?”
“Emiline! Hey! Can you tell Daddy where you last remember seeing your dolly?”
“On the beach, Daddy.” You hear Emiline sniffling.
“Don’t worry! Daddy’s gonna find her for you!” You gaze upon the endless beach.
Ellespeth
(175 words)
