FLASH FICTION FRIDAY: Lunadar Homeward Bound

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***This will be the last Friday post I will be doing for awhile. I wanted to highlight the wonderful talent of illustrators out there like I did with authors from my WRITERLY WISDOM series, but there doesn't seem to be enough illustrators interested in participating so I will suspend my Friday posts for now. I will be participating in the A to Z Challenge in April and will be reviewing 26 children's books over the next month. If more illustrators start contacting me again, I might bring back the series but for now I leave you with the opening passage to my young adult novel LUNADAR: HOMEWARD BOUND for this final FLASH FICTION FRIDAY...enjoy!***

 

The setting sun, a fiery orange, bathes the deck in an unnatural light. The men are restless. They have been too long from land, too long from hearth and home and it weighs heavily upon their spirits. This night will be a rough one with choppy seas and razor sharp tongues. My hand is firm upon the railing and my body sways in rhythm to the waves. Eyes peer into the fading light as if to see land just beyond the horizon. I will get no rest this night...

Voices waft up from below; a harsh word muttered here and there as the men settle down in cramp quarters which reek of sweat and dirt from many months at sea with only each other and the moonlight for company. My body begs for rest, to lie on a down filled mattress and sleep for a hundred years. But my mind races. Crowded with memories and filled with the what-ifs and what-could-have-been of another life time. It's too late now to change things. The sea is my master and I am it's slave for I follow wherever it may lead me. I'm just grateful that tonight it leads me homeward bound...

My eyelids grow heavy as I struggle to stay awake. I can not leave my post for there are too many who are counting on me to lead them through the rocky maze which lie before us. One false turn and I doom this ship and it's passengers to a dance with Davy Jones. But I am confident. I know this path well, having traveled it many times. Truth of the matter is that I could steer this ship through these waters with my eyes closed. Every rock and shell are as familiar to me as the stars in the northern sky...

Finally, the maze is done and once again we are on the open sea. A solitary moon looms before me, the only other thing awake at this time of night. 

Midnight hour. 

Witching hour. 

A time when the portal opens between the here and now to stretch into the outer world. My heart races as if mere wishing could make these sails quicken the journey. At last we are homeward bound and another moon will not rise before we are once again in the arms of our loved ones. All that stands between them and me is the moon...

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY: That Last Summer

Sunlight bounced off glass and steel, almost blinding Cal as he crossed the busy street and made his way to the front of the Markham building. Even now, with 50 floors of offices staring back at him, Cal still couldn't believe Cassie was inside. It made him realize he'd probably underestimated her in more ways than one.

Like that last summer at the beach.

Cal worked hard that year to convince his boss to let him join the lifeguard team. Eighteen and just out of school, it was his first real job. He had something to prove to himself as well as a father who expected him to join the family business and dig holes for the rest of his life. Maybe that was why he made a dumb rookie mistake that first day and ended up being saved by Cassie instead of the other way around.

With long blonde hair and legs that wouldn't quit, there were times Cal felt like he'd been hit by a rogue wave whenever he'd look into those blue eyes of hers. He knew that first day he was drowning but somehow it didn't matter as long as she saved all her smiles for him.

Leaving the sunlight behind, Cal stepped into the cool interior, passed the receptionist's third degree, and rode the elevator up to the thirteenth floor. It was just like Cassie to choose an unlucky number on which to build her empire. She was like that. Fearless and strong-willed, nothing stopped her from going after something she wanted. Cal was beginning to wonder if it was foolish of him to look her up after all these years. He didn't even know if the now world famous CEO of Markham Enterprises would even remember a skinny kid from all those summers ago. What Cal hoped she wouldn't remember were the stupid accusations he threw at her before storming out of the apartment their last night together.

The elevator doors slid open to a room elegantly furnished with rich Persian rugs and antique furniture that must have cost Cassie a fortune. Heck, the furniture alone was probably worth more than Cal made in a year as head foreman of his father's construction company. The beginning of what suspiciously felt like butterflies in his stomach almost made Cal turn around before he made a fool of himself. Suddenly, a door to an alcove opened and Cassie stepped into the room.

She hadn't changed in the twenty years since they'd last seen each other. A silky blonde chignon rested on the collar of her expensive Armani suit. Long legs Cal remembered oh too well peaked out from the skirt hugging Cassie's slender body. Only her eyes were different. Those eyes used to smolder with the promise of pleasures to come. Now, they were darker than Cal remembered and were filled with cautious suspicion. Had he caused that look? And was that fear he saw lurking in the depths of those blue pools threatening to drown him again?

This was going to be harder than he first thought.



FLASH FICTION FRIDAY: Lacey's Bridge

 ("Old Bridge, Ilkley (22nd March 2013)" by Mtaylor848)

 

Tears streaming down her face, Lacey raced to the bridge. She was numb to the branches scratching her arms and the winter wind tangling her hair. Her attention was focused on the destination. She had to get to the bridge in time.

Lacey broke through the trees just as the sun slid from behind dark clouds. Ahead of her were moss-covered stone and snow stung her eyes as she stumbled toward the bridge’s edge. Exhausted, she paused a moment to rest her head against the cold post as memories of Tommy washed over her.

“You promised!” He said.

Lacey looked at him with tear filled eyes. “I know, but now I’m not so sure.”

He pulled her to him and kissed her softly, almost apologetically, before saying, “You know she will never stop. This is the only way. If two people believe in something strongly enough then even the impossible becomes possible.”

She hung her head. “Yes, I know.”

Lacey’s thoughts returned to the stone beneath her hands as his voice echoed into the night, “I’ll love you forever.”

Slowly she made her way to the middle of the bridge. Stopping long enough to register the sound of hounds barking in the distance, she reached into her pocket. Trembling fingers closed around cold steel for a moment before Lacey let it slip into the dark waters below.

It was done. Now to get away before the dogs caught up to her…

FLASH FICTION FRIDAY...THE PODS

No one remembers when the first one appeared.  Mr. Fletcher thinks it's some high school kids just playing a prank, but it is too big for kids to have put there. My best friend, Tommy, says old man Harper is just crazy enough to do it but I don't think so. No one wants to say it, but everyone is thinking it's just like something out of The Twilight Zone. 

Aliens are here.

Although it's not gonna be the little green men kind cuz these are no flying saucers. No, this is more like a big ol' can of chili beans lying on its side in the middle of the Westler's back forty. Then, before you can even wrap your head about the one being there, another pops up overnight not three hundred yards from the first one. Then another one this past Tuesday. Then another one yesterday.

Pretty soon you can't swivel your head in any direction without seeing one. You go to bed whispering your prayers while scratching your head a wondering just where the heck they are coming from and crossing your fingers that there won't be more in the morning.

But then you wake up, peak out your kitchen window and there they sit, staring back like a pack of coyotes hungering for their first meal in a long time and you are topping the snack list.

And just when you think nothing can get any weirder, the humming starts up. I was headed over to Tommy's house to do our homework before checking out the latest additions to "pod pack" as we like to call those things, when all of a sudden I can hear it.

Low at first, the humming is just loud enough to catch my attention and I turn in all directions, wondering where the strange sound is coming from. Then I realize it is coming from the hundreds of mounds spread out for miles across the countryside. Louder and louder the humming grows until I even begin to make out distinctive tones within the sounds...like each pod is calling out to its neighbor and all of them are counting down to something.

But what????

Flash Fiction Friday

I Won't Be Home For Christmas

by Donna L Martin

Gracie stepped onto the tarmac and looked around. Just another stop in a long line of shows to help with troop moral. She'd never guess it was almost Christmas by the look of the grey barracks surrounded by the mud and slush of a dreary December afternoon.

Tugging her coat closer to her, Gracie ran the last few yards to the mess hall where a temporary stage had been built for the entertainment. She had just enough time to get ready before her curtain call. How many times had she stepped onto one of those stages to sing for men so far from home? One look into their war-weary faces and Gracie could tell the only Christmas wish on their lists was a one way ticket home.

Papa told her when he left her at the train station it would be hard traveling so far away during the holidays. Turned out he was right. But in her heart she knew she was still where she belonged.

"Little girl, you make sure you sing your heart out for those guys. Poor blokes, some won't see another Christmas."

"I will, Papa."

"And remember, look for the northern star and know your mama is always watching over you."

Tears misted Gracie's eyes as she thought of her mama while getting ready for the show. The pain was still a dull ache in her chest even after three years but Gracie knew her mother would be proud of what her little girl was doing.

Gracie did a final check of her makeup and slowly smiled back at her reflection before heading onstage. Outside the world might have forgotten about Christmas but for the next two hours she planned on bringing a little bit of the holiday spirit indoors...

***Okay, it's your turn! Does Gracie help those soldiers forget they're so far from home?  Could there be a special surprise waiting for her as well? Put your creative cap on and add a sentence or add a paragraph. Continue my story or start one of your own. Join the fun and see where this picture prompt takes us!***

Flash Fiction Friday

The Long Trail Home

by Donna L Martin

Snow glistened all around as Lone Wolf's pony took slow crackling steps up the next ridge. Worry hardened his face as he searched the distant trees for some sign of Red Eagle. So far this winter had been harsh and many of the elders would no longer sit at tribal council. That left Lone Wolf to decide what was right for the people of his village. What would be best? Stay and pray Mother Earth would be kind to them or go in search of another land to call home?

Food was becoming harder to find ever since the pale faces stormed the valley and the children were paying the price as they tried to ignore the cries of a hungry belly. Red Eagle was their last hope. He had been gone for two moons, now Lone Wolf waited on the ridge for some sign of the warrior's return.

Just as the morning sun crested the far mountaintop, Lone Wolf saw something break through a stand of snow covered trees and slowly make its way to the river. Was it Red Eagle? Lone Wolf felt the icy air race deep into his lungs as his breath quickened. What news did he bring? 


***Okay, it's your turn! Does Red Eagle bring news to save the village? Or will the harshness of winter still blow across the valley and Lone Wolf's people?  Put your creative cap on and add a sentence or add a paragraph. Continue my story or start one of your own. Join the fun and see where this picture prompt takes us!***

Flash Fiction Friday

Santa's Last Gift

by Donna L Martin

Nip's ears twitched as he waited for Tuck to catch up with him. An elf could never run as fast as a wolf, especially one full of cookies and milk. Just as Nip was about to run back to where he had last seen Tuck, the elf came huffing and puffing up the path.

"You know I can't run that fast, Nip!" Tuck said with a scowl.

"But you told me Santa was lost. I was just trying to help," replied Nip.

Tuck shoved his hands deep into Nip's fur to warm them as he looked around the forest.

"Are you sure Red's house is this way?"

"Sure, I'm sure! I go by it every day on my way to the chicken coop. She's got it all prettied up like she thinks Santa's gonna remember her this year. I tell her she's crazy to still believe he'll show up!"

Tuck glared at Nip as he pulled his hands from the wolf's fur and planted them on his hips,"It's not Santa's fault! Last year's GPS wasn't working right and anybody could have gotten lost in that blizzard!"

"Yeah, yeah, tell that to Red!"

The two suddenly stopped arguing when a merry voice rang out, "Now Tuck, no need to go pointing the finger at anybody but me for dropping the ball last Christmas. I should have known not to trust that newfangled contraption over Rudolph's nose! What's done is done, so Nip my fine fellow, if you would be so kind as to show me the way to Red's house, I'll deliver this last package and be on my way back to the Missus!"

Nip glared one more time time at the elf before trotting over to where Santa stood looking at the map. Nudging his way closer, Nip pointed his nose northward and said, "Red lives just on the other side of these woods. Follow me"...

***Okay, it's your turn! Does Nip really know the way to Red's house or will Santa stay lost?  Put your creative cap on and add a sentence or add a paragraph. Continue my story or start one of your own. Join the fun and see where this picture prompt takes us!***

Flash Fiction Friday

This week's flash fiction is a little bit different. In the U.S. yesterday everyone was celebrating a holiday where we give thanks for the people closest to us and where we are in our lives. I was taken by surprised by my own bit of "flash fiction" when the following event happened yesterday. How do you think this story ended?

Where's My Ma'am?

by Donna L Martin

 

 

 

The woman stamped her feet against the cold and tugged the car door again. It was most decidedly frozen and the ironic thing about it all was the bottle of de-icer staring back at her from the front seat. As she headed back inside for a bucket of warm water she thought to herself, "It's not going to matter if I'm late. No one is holding their breath just waiting for me to show up."

 

On the other side of town the man put the last ornaments on the Christmas tree. Delicious aromas taunted him from the kitchen as his wife prepared the holiday meal. Suddenly a small voice caught his attention.

 

"Daddy, I hope my ma'am is gonna be here soon."

 

"It's okay Hailey. She's on her way and will be here in a little bit."

 

"But I miss her, Daddy!"

 

After much tugging and a little bit of prayer, the ice finally loosened its grip on the car door enough for the woman to climb in and start up the engine. She was going to be late but didn't think it would matter much. A sharp beeping sound announced an incoming text and tears sprung to her eyes as she read the words someone special was waiting anxiously for her arrival. For a moment self-pity had allowed her to think being late didn't matter but here was proof it did, if only for one small child. Twenty minutes later as the woman pulled into the driveway, she could see a nose pressed against the window pane impatiently searching for a familiar car. Oh, what a wonderful holiday this was going to be.

 

Stepping into the hallway, the woman could hear a high pitched squeal as she closed the door.

 

"Ma'am, ma'am, you're here!"

 

 

***Okay, you're turn. What do you think happened next?***

Flash Fiction Friday

Thank You Mother Earth

By Donna L Martin

Little Bear could hear the women of the village as they did their morning chores. Voices raised in praise to Mother Earth for bringing them another day from the arms of Father Moon. Little Bear knew it was almost time to go on the hunt, but he lay still amongst the skins and drank in the smell of venison roasting on the spit outside the lodge. He knew he should be proud the elders finally chose him to go with the others so why did his insides tremble so?

Hearing his mother's sharp tongue urging him to hurry, Little Bear slowy crawled out of the tent to meet his breath in the frosty morning air. Joining the other braves as they prepared their horses for the hunt, Little Bear watched the elders as they chanted prayers for a swift kill and a safe return. 

Before he could even gather his thoughts, the horses raced across the plains in search of Tahtanka, the great horned beast of the prairie. A good hunt would help Little Bear's people survive the many moons of the long nights when food was scarce and firewood even scarcer. He must show his mother and the elders he was a man now and could provide for the village like the other warriors.

Caught in a daydream, he was startled to hear a loud bellow behind him. Turning just in time to see the bison begin to charge in his direction, Little Bear yelled for his horse to run like the wind as he reached for his bow. "Thank you, Mother Earth, for this chance to prove I am worthy of my people," Little Bear shouted as he quickly took aim...

***Okay, it's your turn! Does Little Bear provide for his people? Or does Tahtanka defeat him?  Put your creative cap on and add a sentence or add a paragraph. Continue my story or start one of your own. Join the fun and see where this picture prompt takes us!***

Flash Fiction Friday

Miles To Go

by Donna L Martin

A solitary blast of the horn startled Jake from his nap. The clickety-clack of the train's wheels gave him a false sense of security and he had dozed off. Looking around he noticed quite a few passengers nodding their heads in rhythm to the sound. Jake knew it wouldn't be long before the compartment would be filled with the soft snoring of weary travelers trying to get home before the holidays.

Sitting up straighter in his seat, Jake reached down to massage a sudden charlie horse. Thankfully the seat in front of him was empty but even then his tall frame could just stretch so much before he bumped into someone else's space. Gazing out the window he could just make out a cascade of leaves racing alongside the train's engine as if playing tag. This part of the world was beautiful this time of the year. Bursts of color burning the countryside and reminding him of other trips up the mountain to a place he used to call home.

To Jake, Fall is a time for gatherings. A time to stuff more than just the turkey, and a time to gather loved ones close, giving thanks for another year together. At least that's what Fall used to mean. Jake wasn't sure any more. This homecoming will certainly be one for the books as his momma used to say, God rest her soul.

A soft sigh, barely heard above the sound of the wheels, brought Jake's attention back inside. Shifting in his seat again, he reached out and tucked the blanket more securely around the sleeping child lying next to him. Just a few more miles to go before he arrives at the old station. Just a few more miles before he finds out if he even has a home to go back to...

*Okay, it's your turn! What will Jake find at the end of his journey? And why does he have a child with him?  Put your creative cap on and add a sentence or add a paragraph. Continue my story or start one of your own. Join the fun and see where this picture prompt takes us!***

Flash Fiction Friday

A Wish & A Prayer

by Donna L Martin

The park was almost empty by the time the old man got there but he liked it that way. No fighting the early morning joggers paying homage to the latest health trend. No new mommas pushing squawking babies in prams to gather at the sandbox like clucking hens guarding chicks. He had timed his stroll perfectly and now he could take a moment to sit. Just sit and watch the leaves turn colors in the crisp Autumn daylight. He had time. He didn't have to be at the church til later and it wasn't like Jake was going anywhere.

A breeze started to pick up and the old man shivered. It felt like a cat ran over his grave. Jake would have said it was a black cat hell bent on making his life a troublesome one, but that was the way Jake was. Ornery. Cantankerous. And the best friend the old man ever had. 

Right now he would have given anything to have that old cuss chewing on his ear again like he had for the last 45 years. Why, he would even let him beat him at their weekly checker game. But it was too late now for that. The only thing left was a stroll in the park and a moment to recall a lifetime of memories. 

Like the time he and Jake went skinny dipping at the old Thompson place. Jake almost bust a gut laughing when the branch broke and the old man plunged into that icy water. Somehow they survived those wild childhood adventures and over the years the love between them flowed stronger than brother's blood.

Then came the bombing. Jake shipped out and left the old man behind; a war time reject with a medical history he couldn't overcome but still they managed to keep in touch. Three long years of waiting and wondering if Jake would make it back in one piece. And then it was like he'd never left. Two peas in the same pod, that's what they were, and the years just seemed to run together until suddenly time caught up to the both of them. Now the old man was content to simply stroll through the park and count the blessings piled up over years.

The sound of church bells brought the old man back from his daydreaming and he clutched his cane tighter as he slowly stood up. It was time now. Time to get to the church and make one more memory with Jake...

**Okay, it's your turn! Why is the old man going to the church? Is he saying goodbye to his best friend through death or cheering him on to a new life?  Put your creative cap on and add a sentence or add a paragraph. Continue my story or start one of your own. Join the fun and see where this picture prompt takes us!***

Flash Fiction Friday

The Coven's Curse

by Donna L Martin

Jake pushed his sweat drenched hair out of his eyes and stopped to catch his breath. Today's run felt good. He actually felt like he was running toward something. Maybe the dark cloud hanging over him all these months was slowly beginning to dissipate? Maybe this afternoon's meeting with Mary would finally give him some answers to the questions robbing his sleep every night.

He was about to resume his run when Jake noticed something odd about the stand of trees just ahead of him. There appeared to be strange markings on each tree, a crude hexagon shape with a blackened star in the center. One after another the trees were marked as if pointing deeper into the forest to some unknown destination.  

Curiosity can be a dangerous companion. It can sometimes tempt a person into doing things they wouldn't normally do, but Jake was no stranger to temptation. Stepping off the beaten path, he followed  the line of trees until he came to a small clearing filled with what appeared to be headstones. Who would put a cemetery in middle of the woods? 

Jake kneeled in front one of the graves. Time and the elements had washed away most of the wording but he still managed to make out a name...Bishop. Stone after stone revealed the names of the nineteen souls buried there...Wardwell, Pudeator, Wildes, Proctor, and others. But when he got to the last grave Jake felt his breath catch in his throat as he stared at the name on the roughened stone...Mary Eastey.

An unusual last name to be sure. One you wouldn't hear too often, much less see on a headstone. Maybe that was why it was so startling to Jake since that was the name of the strange lady he was supposed to be meeting later that day...

***Okay, it's your turn! Who built that graveyard? What is the connection between Jake and the strange visitor? Put your creative cap on and add a sentence or add a paragraph. Continue my story or start one of your own. Join the fun and see where this picture prompt takes us!***

Flash Fiction Friday

Down In The Hollow

by Donna L Martin

Linky always said never go down in the hollow at night. He never said why but I figured it was cuz of the old Samson house. They used to do terrible things at that house long time ago. You know, back when they had the slave quarters. You could hear the screams all the way to the county line. 

Linky swore he'd even seen the ghost of one poor runaway back in '63 when he got caught down in the hollow one night after midnight. He never told me what he was doing out there in the first place, but after that time poor Linky was just never quite right in the head again. Always talking about that ghost. About what happens to fools who get caught down in the hollow after dark.

But I know better. I ain't afraid of no ghost. Don't believe in them anyway. I heard tales of gold buried under that house and I'm fixin' to see for myself just where's it at. Makes more sense to go at night, seeing how everyone around here's too scared to take a chance on being anywhere near the Samson place when the sun goes down. But not me.

I guess I wished I'd brung a better coat to keep out the wind cuz it's got me chilled to the bone. I can just make out the Samson place through the fog but my lantern sure doesn't show much else. Hell, it's about the darkest night I've ever seen but I guess that'll just keep the village folk from catchin' up to my doings this late at night.

I'm almost to the door, but wait. What's that sound? Kinda like a shuffling sound, like some animal scratching it's way through the dead leaves but it sounds way too big to be no animal. Is it just me or did it suddenly turn colder? The hair on the back of my neck is standing up and I'm starting to wonder if Linky wasn't maybe right. Maybe it'd be better if I just turn around and get out the hollow while I still got me the chance...

***Okay, it's your turn! Are the tales true? Is there gold at the old Samson house? Is there a ghost in the hollow or something else? Put your creative cap on and add a sentence or add a paragraph. Continue my story or start one of your own. Join the fun and see where this picture prompt takes us! ***

 

Flash Fiction Friday

(I ran this Flash Fiction piece last year and I'm bringing it back with an invitation to add a sentence or a paragraph to finally let the world know what happens next!)

Beware The Gris Gris

By:  Donna L Martin

Low hanging spanish moss made it difficult for the piroque to cut through the trees of the swamp.  The air is humid and smell of rotting vegetation.  Lee scratchs his arm where a mosquito bit him and he's glad he is up to date on his shots.  Swamp fever is a deadly thing to catch and can lay a man low for months even if he is lucky enough to survive the fevers.

The light is fading fast and there is just enough time to make it to the cabin before night.  Lee sure doesn't want to be on the water after dark.  He has heard the legends of the gris gris and he isn't taking any chances. 

Old man Boudreaux even saw it once; standing about seven feet tall and covered in grey moss.  A creature born of the swamps and known to tear a man limb from limb if he was dumb enough to be on the water after dark.  The old man was rushing to get home one hot summer night when he saw something move among the trees.  At first he thought it was just a gator; could even hear its deep croaking in the distance but this thing was too big to be a gator.  Rising out of the swamp, the creature quickly moved toward him and the old man almost had a heart attack when he realized he was looking into the evil eyes of the gris gris. 

Lee wipes the sweat from his brow and looks nervously around him.  He can almost make out the front porch of his cabin.  He just might make it home safely after all.  Old man Boudreaux was lucky that night he got caught in the swamp.  He made it out alive and days later was telling anyone who would listen about the swamp creature that almost got him. 

What is that?  A sound Lee has never heard before.  Almost like a low moan and getting louder.  The hair on the back of his neck rises as he realizes what is making that sound.  The last thing Lee remembers is the smell of death and the shock of the swamp water as the creature rises out of the deep and reaches for him...

Flash Fiction Friday

 

 

(via Creepy Places)

 

Down The Rabbit's Hole

by Donna L Martin

 

 

Derek stumbled onto the path, hidden just beyond the trees, and paused to catch his breath. The baying of the hounds could be heard in the distance. He didn't know who set off the alarm, alerting the others he had escaped, but he knew it was only a matter a time before the dogs were on his trail. There would be hell to pay if he got caught...that is, if they even let him live.

 

In front of him the path led deeper into the forest. Derek couldn't make out where the path went because of the dense fog but he knew anywhere was better than just standing there waiting to be torn to pieces when the dog finally got to him.  Leaves swirled in the crisp Autumn air as he raced down the path and away from the sound of the hounds. There wasn't enough moonlight to prevent him from tripping over a large root and Derek tried in vain to keep from falling down the large crevice which seemed to suddenly appear out of nowhere.

 

Landing on his back with a thud, Derek struggled to his feet as he looked around the underground cave he found himself in. Tangled roots dangled above his head and he could just make out some moss covered boulders off to one side. The more he stared at them, the more he realized those rocks almost looked like a throne. There was dead silence in the cave. Just where was he? Derek might be safe from the hounds for now but he had fallen down the rabbit's hole and he wanted to find his way out before the owner of that mysterious throne returned...

 

 

***Okay, it's your turn! Where is Derek? Why are the hounds after him and who does that stone throne belong to? Put your creative cap on and add a sentence or add a paragraph.  Continue my story or start one of your own.  Join the fun and see where this picture prompt takes us!***

 

Flash Fiction Friday

The Mighty Jungle 

by Donna L Martin

Today's Flash Fiction Friday is a little bit different. I will be writing Halloween themed Flash Fiction all this month in honor of the holidays but woke up this morning too sick to sit at the computer for very long so I thought I would ask for your help. Here is this week's picture prompt...a bevy of beautiful beasties to spark YOUR writerly creativity. Who will be brave enough to START this week's Flash Fiction Friday? I in turn promise to add to each and every comment I receive...even if I get ten different story beginnings...and since I'm feeling pretty awful right now, NOTHING would make me feel better than to have a Halloween treat basket full of story goodies to sink my teeth into so who's up to today's challenge? ;~)

Flash Fiction Friday

A New York State Of Mind

by Donna L Martin

The old man cautiously looked at the people jamming the streets in front of him. How was he ever going to get through that crowd? Martha needed him. She had always needed him, ever since that day  the Bufford boys pushed her down in the mud and stole her newspaper money. Times were hard back then and the editor had a soft heart. Martha convinced him to let her sell leftover editions to the butcher on the corner. Fish couldn't read anyway so what did it matter to them if it was yesterday's news?

Pulling threadbare lapels higher on his neck, the old man shuffled slowly through the lines of people. He remembered the first time Martha held out that coat for him to try on. Their first Christmas together and her fingers were still covered in bandages from all the extra sewing she'd done for the money. You would have thought he was the Crown Prince and that second-hand trench coat was made of the finest leather the way her face split in two with a silly grin when he finally tore open the package. She kissed him there, right under the small sprig of mistletoe he had snuck from the corner florist, and told him how much she needed him. Funny thing is, Martha never realized just how much he needed her. His day couldn't begin until she smiled that pretty smile of hers. Old man McCraney's complaints about him being lazy meant nothing once Martha hugged him as he walked in the door after pulling a double shift down at the docks. Why, she even kept the bottle from getting the better of him when they got that war department letter back in the winter of '43. Lordy, what would he do without his Martha?

Mumbling his pardons along the way, the old man continued to make his way through the crowds until he finally made it to the corner and opened the door of the same florist he snatched mistletoe from all those years ago. Shuffling up to the counter, he waited for the young clerk to notice him before asking, "Would you have some white lilies, please? They're for my Martha"....

***Okay, it's your turn! Where is Martha? Why is the old man buying her flowers? Put your creative cap on and add a sentence or add a paragraph.  Continue my story or start one of your own.  Join the fun and see where this picture prompt takes us!***

Flash Fiction Friday

Second Chances

by Donna L Martin

Ricky absently reached for his hairbrush, fingers snatched back as if burned when it dawned on him how foolish it would have been to pick it up. His hands brushed against his scalp, feeling the stubble just beginning to grow back. It had been a long hard summer and now that school was starting up again, Ricky wasn't ready for the drama he was sure waited for him there. He was just getting his life back and didn't want to deal with the looks like he had gotten at the clinic. Besides, how could they possibly understand? With their carefree laughter and simple lives, how could they possible know what it felt like to be him?

It was supposed to rain today and Ricky knew what that meant. His mom would hover over him, asking a million times if he was okay and telling him to make sure he grabbed a jacket so he wouldn't catch a cold. How could he tell her he just wanted to feel normal again? He hated how his name and cancer always seemed to crowd the same sentences these days. Ricky was beginning to forget where he stopped and his illness began. Pulling a baseball cap low over his forehead, Ricky grabbed his backpack and rushed out the back door before his mom could realize he was gone.  

Hours later Ricky sat alone in one corner of the cafeteria. It was as bad as he thought it would be. First was the stares. Some of the guys he used to hang out with last year even started calling him skin head. But it was the constant whispers that bothered him the most. Why didn't they just come out and say it to his face? He was tired of fighting. Fighting the rage he felt when he first found out he was sick. Fighting to keep food down after the latest chemo treatment. Now he was fighting back tears as he stared at the cold tuna fish on his plate. Softly, almost as if she didn't want to disturb him, Ricky heard someone clearing their throat near him.  Glancing up, he noticed a girl from his Chemistry class standing in front of him. Ricky tried to think of her name. Becky. Betty. Something that started with a B he was pretty sure but he really didn't give it much thought cuz he really just wanted to be left alone.

"Do you mind if I sit down here?"

Ricky looked around the cafeteria at first to see if someone had set her up to talk to him before staring back at the girl. Last year he might have even flirted with her but now it just seemed to take too much energy to bother with trying. His sickness had almost broken him but maybe God was showing him he'd been given a second chance? Now the only question swirling around in his head was should he take it?

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