Thoughts At A Fountain – 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 wildverbs. Thank you wildverbs!

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Thoughts At A Fountain

I’m so lost without you. So lost, even, that last night I walked a long while until there was the fountain.

That place where you first kissed me. Where we held hands. Where each water’s drop mixed into a melody of hope and we’d wished upon the reflections of late night stars.

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” you said that long ago summer. You leaned over and kissed my cheek. We held close to each other.

And it all came true.

Except,

now you’ve gone and died on me. How could you go so far off our plan like that?

Ellespeth

How Not To Crochet The Drop Stitch – 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 Yarnspinnerr. Thank you Yarnspinnerr!

Please  follow lil  froggy for more stories:)

How Not To Crochet The Drop Stitch

I stood with my brother at the airport’s security gate. His dark brown eyes were locked onto my own. My flight would be loading soon. A very few moments loomed before us.

“I got here as soon as I received your text,” my brother said. “Thank God you are still here!” He embraced me.

“Even I don’t have wings,” I replied. “Must wait, as others, for flight.”

“We don’t know this man you are flying to be with,” said my brother.

“He doesn’t know you either.”

My brother shook his head. He seemed sad. “I’ve just always had this image of you writing poetry and crocheting christening gowns.”

“But I don’t know how to crochet!” I drew my eyes into thin lines and stared my brother down.

“That’s not the point,” he said.

“Oh. Okay. I don’t want to learn how to crochet.”

“You’ll be sorry for this!” my brother shouted as I made my way to the ticket counter.

“But I don’t want to learn how to crochet!” I called back to him.

Ellespeth

The Eccentricities Of Romance – 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 Yinglan. Thank you Yinglan!

Please follow lil froggy for more stories:)

Here is the photograph and my part fiction/part memoir story:

The Eccentricities Of Romance

Nobody in my family ever really knew Ivy.  One day out of no where Dad,  a widower for seven years, announced he was going to marry some woman he’d met on the internet.  That just didn’t sit well with us.  The internet part.  The sudden part.

Nobody in my family ever really knew Ivy.  And then one day,  decades later,   Dad had died and Ivy had reached a critical point in her ability to care for herself.  We moved her into a care facility.

“I’ve always wondered what attracted you to Dad,”  I said during one of our last visits.

“Those model airplanes he had hanging from the ceiling of his library.  Remember those?” Ivy squeezed my hand.  “I just thought that was the most romantic thing I’d ever seen.”

I shook my head and smiled.  They had always been such an odd pair.  The engineer and the poet.  “You two.”

“I know,”  she agreed.  Her smile lit the space between us.

Nobody in my family ever really knew Ivy,  and that was the shame of it all.

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

Autumn Twilight – 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 me 😛

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Here is my photograph and a story that came to me during supper this evening:

Autumn Twilight

It’d been an exhausting week for me. Tilling up the land in front of the house. Choosing the vegetable and flower seeds. Arranging it all in my mind’s eye. Colors just so. I’d even been able to put my adolescent sons to work on the garden.

One evening, late in the week, after my husband Clyde had come home from work, I laid out a blanket under some oak trees at the edge of the clearing overlooking our home and the garden. Clyde had brought some wine and cheese and a loaf of my fresh homemade bread. We sat down and looked out onto the evenly tilled rows before us. Everything glowed golden.

“Clyde, honey?” I asked. “Don’t you think the boys did a good job on the scarecrows this year?”

Ellespeth

Mail Order Bride – 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 Yinglan. Thank you Yinglan!

Please follow lil froggy for more stories:)

Here is the photograph and my story:

Mail Order Bride

“Oh the indignity!” Harriet was observing her blackboard – the one she’d brought by train all the way from New York City – leaned up against a tiny structure. She wrung her hands together and looked back and forth from the blackboard to the housekeeper.

Mae, the housekeeper, nodded affirmatively. She wanted to start out the relationship with her employer’s new wife on a positive note. Silently, if possible.

Harriet continued, “Mr. Garner’s letter to the agency clearly stated that he was looking for a wife who would also help him teach the town’s children. He said he had built a schoolhouse.” Anyone could see she was deeply distressed. “How can he possibly call this a schoolhouse.  It’s nothing more than a child’s playhouse.”

“Oh no, Mrs. Garner. This isn’t the schoolhouse,” Mae replied. “That, over yonder, is.” She pointed to a lovely build at the end of a stone walkway.

Ellespeth

Something More Than Usual – 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 Dorothy. Thank you Dorothy!

Please follow lil froggy for more stories:)

Here is the photograph and my story:

Something More Than Usual

“When a gaze cannot be held
someone is usually
right or wrong.
Tilting the facts
one way or another
doesn’t change
the way things are.

Turn away.
Look at me.”

Those are the last words he wrote to me.  But this was long ago when the boats were heavy with hope.  We knew he was leaving.  We knew I had to stay.  Boats can only hold so much weight at a time.

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)

All Sparklin’ Lights – 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:

All Sparklin’ Lights

“So what do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean it can’t be this way anymore – all sparklin’ lights every where.” She looked at him. She ached from the way he looked back at her.

“I can give you what you want, Myra.”

“I want the other side of those mountains, Saul. Let me go there.”

And so he did. And so she was happy. And so.

Ellespeth