An Afternoon After School – Flash Fiction

Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring WritersThis week’s photo prompt is provided by Yinglan. Thank you Yinglan!  Please click lil froggy for other stories.

Here is the photo and my entry for this week.

An Afternoon After School

I was a young girl then.

Each day, after school, I walked to my father’s shoe store and sat in the storage room and did my homework. I dreamed about my future.

The day Father received the red shoes, she appeared. My brothers rushed to serve her and compliment her. All the colors in the room were muted. Even her lovely silk dress and the noise of time passing were muted.

“I will take these red shoes,” the lady said.  She kicked up her heel and smiled down at my younger brother.

He offered to box and bag them for her.

“Thank you,  but no,” she said. “I want to wear them now. You can send these old shoes to me later.”

I think her lips were red, too. Her skin was like ivory. Her voice soft and sweet – just as I imagined mine would be one day.

Ellespeth

As I Watched Him – Flash Fiction

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 Enisa…thanks for it.

Please follow lil froggy for more stories:)

Here is the photograph and my story:

As I Watched Him

Everything had happened so quickly for us. Not a planned out courtship but a fast and feverish one, fired with the hope of victory and freedom.

One morning I looked out our apartment window and watched him walking to work. I glanced at my high tech watch.  Same time every morning.  He was carrying the duffel bag he brought with him each day.  The one I’d packed with so many of his lunches.

I watched him;  remembering the conversation I’d had with a few  members of our covert group last night. The meeting had been hastily convened.  I watched him and cried.

Once it had been discovered he was against us and using me, I had no other choice but to kill him.

Ellespeth

w/c 123

Quonset Under the Kumquat – Fiction

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 yarnspinner…thanks for it.

Please follow lil froggy for more stories:)

Here is the photograph and my story:

Quonset Under the Kumquat

As anybody knows by now,  I love Buck more than anyone on this earth.  It’s easy to love him.   In our own ways,  we are both imperfect.

That first summer he moved in with his Aunt – onto our Bayou after his parents died – we fell into something that later turned out to be love.

Right against the pond, on his Aunt’s land, was an old Quonset hut.  It was left over from the war days.  The Navy had plunked them along the river and onto our park lands.

Some sailor had planted a kumquat tree next to the hut.  And that’s where Buck first kissed me.  Just outside that old tin hut when the kumquat  was blooming.

Ellespeth

Sunday Calls From The Cell – Flash Fiction

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 Enisa. Thank you Enisa!

Please follow lil froggy for more stories:)

Here is the photograph and my story:

Sunday Calls From The Cell

When I first moved from Iowa to San Francisco,  I’d call home at suppertime on Sundays.

“Mom.  Hey!” I’d say. “What’s cooking?”  Sometimes,  wanting to sound all grown-up and happily living on my own,  I’d have to rehearse those first few words.

“Pot roast and football,” she’d consistently reply.  Could have been basketball or baseball.  Always pot roast.

“I can smell it from here.”

“Are you settling in alright, Bella?”

“I am,  yes.  Just can’t wait for you and Dad to see the place.  It’s colorful in an abstract way you’d like.”

The place was a 500 sq foot studio with a view overlooking a Trader Joe’s parking lot.  The top-level had a jogging course.   Cameras everywhere.   And that neon colored wall visible from blocks away.

“We can’t wait to see it,”  Mom would say. “We should come this winter.   Take advantage of that great climate you have.”

“Let’s plan on it,”  I said during one such call.

“Let’s,” Mom replied. “Here,  sweetheart,  talk to your dad.”

Ellespeth

(168 count)

Once Upon A Bed Again – When Chloe Glowed Golden (Fiction)

Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.  So grateful to PJ for hosting this weekly challengeThis week’s photo prompt is provided by Goroyboy. Thank you Goroyboy!

Please follow lil froggy for more stories:)

Here is the photograph and my story:

This is a story featuring my children’s book thingy maybe and its main character, Chloe.  Tentatively titled Once Upon A Bed Again.  I’ve posted most of the stories on this blog.  Here’s a new one:

When Chloe Glowed Golden

One evening, when I was babysitting my two grandchildren and one of them had lost a tooth that very day,  the bedtime conversation was about tooth fairies.  Fairies in general,  really,  and the importance of believing in them.

I thought this a good time to bring up my own experience with fairies.  Well.  One fairy in particular.  My childhood bedroom fairy,  Chloe.  She slept in a dew drop near my window sill.

“Sometimes she’d sit on my thumb,”  I said.  “She was no bigger than a tiny blinky Christmas light.  At these times,  all around us glowed golden.  Chloe – that was her name – would flit here and there sprinkling tiny glittery stars and hearts all about.”

“Those moments were magical.”  I was tucking blankets and sheets all round my precious grand-kids.  “Nothing can really describe them.”  And they nodded knowingly.

Ellespeth

At The Equinox – Flash Fiction

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 Fandango. Thank you Fandango!

Please follow lil froggy for more stories:)

Here is the photograph and my story:

At The Equinox

Sometimes we’d sit on the bench. Saul would tell me everything he knew about vineyards and landscaping. He was especially attuned to new sprouting grasses promising spring. That was his favorite season.

When the grapes were being harvested or the vines seemed dead in hibernation,  we’d sit and he’d take deep draws from his cigar. Everything smelled earthy. Now and then a whiff of green would catch in the air.

“I married her at the Vernal Equinox,” he said one day. “She was all aflutter with flowered crown and rosy cheeks.”

Everything dead around us breathed.

Ellespeth

A Two-Step For My Baby – Flash Fiction

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 Elaine Farrington Johnson. 

Here’s the photograph and my story.  Please follow lil froggy for more stories.

A Two-Step For My Baby

So many attended me, but I didn’t speak for days. People all around the room were speaking. Speaking to me. Touching me. Smiling sadly at me. Sometimes they spoke to each other. It didn’t matter though. Words seemed meaningless. An echo never-ending.

I’d drawn the shades against the light until one bright dawn seared its way into my life. That morning, in the chapel, there were whispered prayers for love and forgiveness. Vigil candles flickered beneath the statue of St. Agnes.

I knew my baby had been like a little lamb that night. Kicking up a two-step. Perhaps she was a sacrifice, but to what?

Ellespeth

Sweet Elise – Fiction

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 The Magicsticgoldenrose. Thank you for our photo prompt!

Please follow little froggy for more stories.

Here is the photograph and my story:

Sweet Elise

Remember when she passed for white? Not that she knew it. Of course she didn’t know it. But then it started passing around her Ivy League sorority…  The Homecoming Queen had something to hide.

The Homecoming game was, as anticipated, won by the home team. As their Queen, after the game, she threw pink and red and white rose petals onto the field. She was lovely. So beautiful and regal. A prize for any man who’d claim her. Until…

Later…  “Move away, now! Move away!” ordered the campus police. They were waiting for  local enforcements to arrive.

She’d remained untouched since her body had been found in her dorm room. Gold safety pins, holding good bye notes, were attached to her homecoming gown. One in particular came to muddy the day:

“So much more I wanted for thee and me, love…Sweet Elise.”

Ellespeth

King’s Day – Fiction

Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers So grateful to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge.  Please follow little froggy for more stories.

Here is the photograph and my story:

King’s Day

As usuual, we were sitting at the bay window each in our comfy winged back chair. Below, at ground level, workmen were hauling away December’s Christmas tree. Dead needles laid a path before and behind them.   It was King’s Day.

“What do you want to discuss today?” he asked.

“I remember one year,  I was 6,  pitching a fit when Mom started taking the tree down on King’s Day.” I smiled and glanced his way. “That was the last Christmas I believed in Santa Claus.”

He nodded. That was his job. To listen and nod and repeat my words back to me.

“I cried for a real long time that day. Probably because I was letting go of Santa Claus.” I reached for a tissue. “When I stopped crying, Mom and I made a King Cake.  After it was baked, we tucked in the porcelain baby.” I smiled again. “My brother chipped his tooth on the baby.”

Ellespeth

(This week’s photo prompt is provided by Shivangi Singh. Thank you Shivangi for our photo prompt!)

Those Old Nomadic Ways – Flash Fiction

Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers So grateful to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge.  Please follow little froggy for more stories.

Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate the day!

Oh my goodness!  I want to try this again.  So it’s a story born from a poem I wrote a while back.   What I’m attempting these days.   Story is first and poem follows.

Here is the picture and my submission for this week:

Those Old Nomadic Ways

The Story:

She spread a deck of tarot cards on the table.  Our eyes met.  I was but a traveler attending a week-end concert.  She was but a link to something unknown to me.  I met her gaze and watched her lay down the cards of my life.

Boats on the river passed by.  From one there sounded a calliope whispering the past to me.

I was a lost soul.  She drew me in.  She touched me.  The sun set golden.  Images of hope appeared.

End of story

The Poem:

A tiny camper
glimpsed
rushing by on the freeway
away
passed other cars
and realities

put me in that camper
on some sparse land
surrounded by silence
and blue skies

searching for anchors
and reasons
to come
ashore
again.

Ellespeth