Fish Tale

He wondered if a mermaid was a fish or if he’d catch anything today or if the soldiers would spot him.

Once he was robbed. They almost killed him with the beating. He didn’t mind dying, but he had to bring fish home to Martha and Peter.

He was too delirious from the bombings and hiding to catch food. He slept till she woke him handing him more fish than he’d ever expect to see. “For Martha and Peter. And you.”

As she turned to dive into the water he thought he heard her say, “I’m not a fish.”


Text: Linked to Carrot Ranch April 26th writing challenge. This week the theme is “fish tale” for these 99-word stories. Come and join us.

Photos: “Water and Bird and a Lot of Other Stuff”, above, “Chicago Botanic Garden”, below.

News: Christopher Fielden is celebrating the release of two writing challenge anthologies today which support charities and give writers like myself something to do, Nonsensically Challenged Volume 2, and Tritely Challenged Volume 1.  I have a story in each.  You are welcome to submit stories for the next anthologies.

Chicago Botanic Garden

Santa Self-Care — #writephoto

Mark loudly rang his own doorbell. “Thank you, Santa!” He heard Julie’s feet pitter-patter as she rushed to the door. “Have a nice day, Santa, in your snowy fairy glen at the North Pole.”

Julie looked outside. “Where’s Santa?”

“Sorry, Julie. Santa’s gone. He left gifts for you.”

Eventually someone would have to tell his daughter about Santa, but Mark couldn’t do it. She’ll have to cure herself even if she breaks her own heart.

Later that day Julie answered the door. “Santa! Back so soon?”

“Who was that?”

“Sorry, Dad. Santa’s gone, but he left you this present.”


Text: Linked to Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt and Charli Mills’ Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge with the prompt “self-care”.

Photo: Sue Vincent provided the photo for the prompt.

Sue Vincent's #writephoto icon

The Porch as Chair

He used the floor of the cabin’s open porch as a chair dangling his legs. The chickens were safe. The dog was safe.

He figured if he couldn’t see it, it wasn’t there. No fairies. No unicorns. The trees weren’t watching. The sun didn’t care. He was safe.

Then he saw her walk up his long path. She was watching him for some time and decided to make her move. She needed a place to stay. After they spoke his understanding of safety expanded to include her.

Now they both sat on the porch. He promised to make chairs.


Text: Linked to Charli Mills’ Carrot Ranch 99-word Flash Fiction Challenge. The theme is a chair on a porch. Come join us writing flash fiction.


News: Last Wednesday the Prairie Writers Guild held a dinner in Rensselaer, Indiana, celebrating the publication of the fourteenth volume of their series From the Edge of the Prairie. Some of my haibun, which appeared previously on this blog, are in that volume. They print the anthology in Rensselaer. Although I have been a member for only the past year I have known some of the people in the guild for decades having grown up in northwest Indiana.

The Costs of Love — #writephoto

A sweet maiden frolicked in the fairy glen by its flowing waters swatting mosquitoes.

A brave knight saw her and halted his steed. “Fair maiden, you wander in the enchanted glen. Did mosquitoes bite you?”

“Many have tasted my innocent blood. Many have I dispatched to their fiendish hell. I trust, sir knight, you have returned with glorious kills from the Draconis Mountains?”

“That is true, fair maiden. The dragons who haunt those heights have breaths so foul they have long addled the souls of many a woeful warrior but I have succeeded where others have failed.” The knight dismounted. He reached into his bag and produced a bottle of Fairy Godmother’s Feisty Mosquito Repellent. “It’s the best on the market and it’s only $3.49 today.”

The maiden carefully scanned the many reviews on her phone. “Almost five stars and a better price. I’ll take two bottles.” She opened her bag and produced a bottle of Merlin’s Dragon Breath Neutralizer. “It’s only $6.98 today.”

The knight eagerly bought a bottle and they lived happily ever after.


I’m linking this to Sue Vincent’s Flow #writephoto. She provided the photo for the prompt.
I am also grateful to Christopher Fielden for accepting this as Story 158 of Lesley’s Nifty Nib-Nibbling Nonsensical Narrative Writing Challenge.

Sue Vincent's #writephoto icon

Reflections on the Deep End

I rarely descend to the existential depths of metaphysical dread. Why would anyone want to? Besides there’s nothing down there. That’s why it’s dreadful. Why get all miserable over nothing? Sanity stays on the bright surface with the breathable air and the cleansing rain. Or, to put it in other words: don’t look down–the deeper depth is toward the sky.  That leads me to my problem. Although I don’t have anything particularly dreadful to write about, which should make the sophisticated and critical reader question my allegiance to the dark side, I no longer have any motivation to shut up.

SMILING LETS ONE BE
SEASONS’ PLAYFUL METERS RHYME
TIME TO LIVE FORGIVE


Text: Linked to dVerse Haibun Monday.  Bjorn is hosting.  Toni provided the prompt why do we write in the way we do?  I am not sure if I answered it.
I am also linking this to Debbie Roth’s Forgiving Fridays because it occurred to me when I woke this morning that if I really want to levitate to a deeper depth I will have to stop weighing myself down with making sure karma is distributed equitably. There’s plenty of karma to go around.

Photos: “Water Flowers”, above, and “At the Chicago Botanic Garden”, below, by the author.

At the Chicago Botanic Garden

 

I’m Rooting for the Ghost — #writephoto

After Michael saw the ghost he understood. What he understood he would not say. True knowledge should not be made so literal that any monkey could understand it.

Anne sympathized with him but she thought his deranged prefrontal whatchamacallit generated the ghost. Otherwise why was he locked up with her?

Michael told her she could escape with him through the skylight of the cell. Anne said she would consider it. That was the only reason Michael told the ghost to wait.


Text: Linked to Sue Vincent’s #writephoto .
It is now also Story 100 in Christopher Fielden’s 81 Words, a project attempting to “set a Guinness World Record for the most contributing authors published in an anthology”. They have 102 stories so far and need 898 more as of 8:38 AM CST today.

Photo: Sue Vincent provided the photo for the prompt.

Sue Vincent's #writephoto icon