The psychic

—– Newly married —–

“Where is it?”, the husband asks his mousy wife.

 “What is “it” ?”

“Don’t you know what I’m asking?”

“No”

” A good wife should anticipate the husband’s needs …read his mind”

Wife is speechless.

—- 5 years experience later —-

“Where is it?”, the husband asks.

 “Hallway closet”

“not there”

 “Check the bedroom closet”

“not there”

“Check the bathroom closet”

“Found it”

—- 10 years of experience later —-

“Where is it?”

“Must be where you left it last”

“I don’t see it there”

 “Look right in front of you”

“Found it”

—-

“Mom, how do you know what’s “it” ?” .

Mother smiles enigmatically, “It’s a secret”

————– end ———–

This 100 word story  is written in response to the 100 word photo challenge  posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Field each week.  This week’s photo was provided by fellow Friday Fictioneer/ storyteller Marie Gail Stratford

Click on the ‘blue frog’  below to read other amazing takes on the same photo prompt:

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The Liquid Wolf

Finish the story begins with:  “The A&B Building was made entirely from driftwood.”, the History channel drones on TV.

Sara’s mind drifts to the day she read ‘three little pigs’  to her daughter  many moons ago:

“What would you build your house out of ,mama? Straw, wood or bricks?”.

“Brick”.

“I would build it out of straw , mama, but I would make it strong somehow and  when the wolf comes huffing and puffing it would release pollen and send the wolf away sneezing”, the child claps in victory over the imaginary wolf.

A  door bangs elsewhere in the house. The vibrations rattle the glass of water on the child’s bedside table. The water ripples, as if running away , and finding nowhere to go collides with the glass wall. Each unsteady , approaching, footstep sends a tremor through the floor interrupting the rhythm of their heartbeats.

“Build your house with bricks ,sweetheart”, Sara says firmly ,looking her daughter in the eye.

The child nods silently.

——— end —————

The about 150 word  story above was in response to ‘Monday’s finish the story’ flash fiction challenge. This unique flash fiction challenge  provides  a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. The challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided. Details are available here:

https://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2015/09/28/mondays-finish-the-story-sept-22nd-2015/

For other interesting takes on the same prompt click the blue frog below:

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The gate to No-man’s land

She is standing beside a corpse, hands bloody.

Who is he? Did she kill him? Why?  I probe. She remains silent. I glean from the scene that it was self-defence.

Police, K9 units, courts, media – No, can’t have her deal with all that.  I decide to bury him in the garden.

The garden gate isn’t opening though. I kick it hard. Still doesn’t budge. This is ridiculous.  I decide to cut the body up . I  try to pick up the chain-saw and I realize I’m paralysed.

Cleaning up murder may look easy on TV shows. It’s practically impossible in dreams.

————————- end —————-

Sometimes there are these intense, panicky dreams that wake me up. But in that waking process – in that no-man’s/no-woman’s land between the unconscious and conscious mind -the dream is  processed as if it were an actual event. The brain starts finding solutions to the problem in the dream- tries to put out fires – hide dead bodies . The memory of the actual dream is lost and I’m left like a detective with crime scene photos that get blurrier by the minute……Like a drunk stumbling upon a crime scene with blurred vision. Luckily my body remains paralysed in this sleep state otherwise you will find me searching for a chain-saw in the middle of the night and it would become very messy…Police , K9 units, courts and media…..

—————-

This 100 word story  is written in response to the 100 word photo challenge  posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Field each week.  This week’s photo was provided by fellow Friday Fictioneer/ storyteller David Stewart.

Click on the ‘blue frog’  below to read other amazing takes on the same photo prompt:

No loitering allowed here…

Finish the story begins with: 

“Where did they go? Those good old days?“, Sara sighed. She  remembers them blazing a path through the weeds to the ruins:  their playground, their castle, their love nest. Flirting as the butterflies flitted around the fallen bricks ….

Each brick invokes a memory – each memory , a brick…

” A day is a day – it’s neither Old nor young. It could be called ‘good young days’ Especially, if you are referring to a day  when we were young ” ,  He pauses his unnecessary non sequitur.

Sara’s silence encourages him to continue, “Those days just don’t become ‘good‘ because it wasn’t ‘bad‘.  It was actually quite boring at times. Loitering aimlessly in those ruins because there was nothing better to do wasn’t exactly one would call ‘good‘ “

The words of her childhood friend turned lover, turned husband, turned philosopher,turned “everything you ever say will be stamped stupid” labeller, finally sunk in.  This time she did have better things to do than loiter in the ruins.

—————— end ————————

The about 150+ word above story was in response to ‘Monday’s finish the story’ flash fiction challenge. This unique flash fiction challenge  provides  a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. The challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided. Details are available here:

https://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2015/08/10/mondays-finish-the-story-august-10th-2015/

For other interesting takes on the same prompt click the blue frog below:

Saturn’s rings

“He will see the caller-id and won’t pick up”, Su said.

Undaunted I pressed the call button. The rings started after a seconds pause. At the second ring Su said , like an expert in psychology, “Wanna bet?”.

The rings continued. Third. Fourth. Fifth. Sixth.  Su’s eyes twinkled with  a “I told ya”  yet Hope framed that black cloud of smug knowledge, like a silver lining.

The rings continued. Seventh. Eighth. My heart, an expert diver, was getting ready for the plunge.

The ringing stopped. A second later we heard a “Hello”.. that voice turns me into a poet:

“You are the Moon that never wanes

On my darkest nights”

—————- end ————–

This true ‘story’  happened two days ago when my husband, younger son and me sat in the backyard star-gazing (my husband was pixel gazing).  I said that I was going to call my older son at a summer camp 200 miles away. My little one is the “Su” in the story…the Mr. Know-it-all …who secretly misses his brother more than us.

The owner of the “Hello” is my oldest son, who is learning the art of ignoring his parents at summer school and getting quite adept at not returning our calls or texts.

Pleased after speaking to our heart’s content, we continued to star-gaze and found to our amazement that the ‘not twinkling star’ was Saturn. Googling confirmed that in August 2015 Saturn is the most visible planet on the night sky , without a telescope. With a medium telescope the site said that we could see Saturn’s rings. But we had enough ‘rings’ for that night so we continued to watch it with our naked eye ..marvelling on how we couldn’t see the neighbouring town that was 5 miles away, yet see Saturn that was around 1.2 billion kilometres away.

———————–

This 109 word story is written in response to the 100 word photo challenge  posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Field each week. PHOTO PROMPT Madison Woods.

Click on the ‘blue frog’  below to read other amazing takes, that fellow Friday Fictioneers have, on the same photo prompt:

The Muse-in-law

Elizabeth quickly closed the journal and pushed it under the embroidery.  The pen clattered to the floor and rolled under the bed.

Her mother-in-law stood at the door moments after her thunderous steps alerted Elizabeth. She instructed a maid, who followed her, to collect all the books in Elizabeth’s room.

“Books can disturb your  sensibilities and corrupt your mind…making you an unsuitable wife for my dear son…”. Her voice echoed the hollow righteousness of her mind.

Elizabeth studied the ignorant yet vile creature in front of her silently.

“…that’s why I’m banning books for you. Girls should be like flowers – delicate and pure… “, the woman continued her monologue.

“and deceptively poisonous? like you?“, Elizabeth wanted to say when inspiration struck her.

“Thank you”, Elizabeth blurted ,interrupting and dismissing her mother-in-law.

When she was left alone eventually , Elizabeth started writing the perfect plot twist for her play: “The team employed the use of Nightshade to get the information they wanted from their captive.”

———– end —————-

Nightshade – is a type of plant where the flowers, steams and leaves are poisonous like the flower shown in the picture prompt.

I also drew inspiration from the first woman to write an English play and publish it in her name: Elizabeth Cary  or Lady Falkland. More information on her is available in Wikipedia:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Cary,_Viscountess_Falkland

Excerpts from the wikipedia article that acted as a basis for my piece:

“At the age of fifteen, her father arranged her marriage to Sir Henry Cary, later made Viscount Falkland, who married her because she was an heiress. When she finally moved into her husbands home, her mother-in-law informed Elizabeth that she was forbidden to read, so Elizabeth instead chose to write poetry in her spare time.”

Elizabeth turned her mother-in-law’s ban of books  into a muse to create her own written material….

“ Her first play The Tragedy of Mariam, the Fair Queen of Jewry (1613) was written in iambic pentameter ….. The Tragedy of Mariam was progressive for its time because it was the first English play to be written by a woman.^[4] Her social commentary discussed divorce and female agency, which was innovative for the time. The play discusses revenge, scheming, and plotting as core elements which all aid in Falkland’s critique about patriarchal tyranny.”

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The about 150+ word above story was in response to ‘Monday’s finish the story’ flash fiction challenge. This unique flash fiction challenge  provides  a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story.This time I used the first sentence (in Italics) provided at the end. The challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided. Details are available here:

https://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2015/08/03/mondays-finish-the-story-august-3rd-2015/

The Spark

“Those are mid-century antiques… Be very very careful when dusting.”, Anna’s new employer’s warned.

Anna’s job was to dust all the beautiful furniture ,expensive and fragile china  , sparkling crystals, and rare collectibles that filled her employer’s home- Evermore manor. Anna’s eyes sparkled more than the crystals. She had worked her way up -from cleaning toilets to antiques.

“You are so lucky. You have soooooo many pretty things M’lady”, Anna gushed.

Lady Macbeth’s smile was vacant. Anna saw that her eyes – duller than the soil that once held her diamonds – reflected none of the sparkle she owned but an unfathomable void.

——- end ———

This exactly 100 word story is written in response to the 100 word photo challenge  posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Field each week. PHOTO PROMPT G.L. MacMillan.

Click on the ‘blue frog’  below to read other amazing takes, that fellow Friday Fictioneers have, on the same photo prompt:

The search

Finish the story begins with:  “He thought he found the perfect hiding spot.”

For all his darkness burning hot.

He thought he dug so deep a hole.

To bury all the hate in his bottomless soul.

He thought he sealed it with layers of resentment and pride.

Like cement mixed right.

He thought he built a façade for the world’s sake.

With charity and piety rendering it opaque.

He thought he was invisible amongst the herd.

The roar in his voice never to be heard.

It’s with that confidence he let me search his eyes on our first date.

I clapped with joy on finding the perfect soul mate.

———————————end———————————–

The 93 word above poem like story was in response to ‘Monday’s finish the story’ flash fiction challenge. This unique flash fiction challenge  provides  a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. The challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided. Details are available here:

https://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2015/07/27/mondays-finish-the-story-july-27th-2015/

Cotton

Mother spreads out the pallu of her cotton sari overhead and I ducked under it.

Giving the auto-driver the address of a store, Mother, bundled the pallu into  a face-mask – the cotton strands fights pollution.

The stores doors are propped open to allow a non-existent breeze.

” A/C repair , Madam”, the store-manager shrugs nonchalantly. The pallu alternates between a towel and hand-fan.

Wiping his sweat , on the sleeve of his cotton shirt, he reads our shopping list:  “Woollen: jackets, gloves, caps, thermals, socks, sweaters”.

—

Rushing to work , weighed down by wool, my mind drifts across continents like tufts of cotton.

—————- end ————————————–

Pallu is the loose end of a sari

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pallu

The “Auto” as we affectionately  call it ,is a special vehicle unique to parts of India..adapted to the congested roads of major cities.

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This exactly 100 word story is written in response to the 100 word photo challenge  posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Field each week.

Click on the ‘blue frog’  below to read other amazing takes, that fellow Friday Fictioneers have, on the same photo prompt:

Circle of evolution

“The petroglyphs told the story of an unusual event”. wrote  Professor Lovelot . What he didn’t know that it was a common event through history, one his son Matt was initiating right now with his girl-friend Kate on his iPhone.

Matt and Kate text  each other:

 u r 6Y :-*

u r  7K >-)

;S 0:-)

 ❤    

420 2NTE ?  

 20 ?

AH 

P911

 PITA

😀

Matt comes from a long line of lovers, following in the footsteps of his great-great-grand-father, Matthew ,who in the 1800s wrote to his lady-love:

“Dearest Katherine,

It with pleasure that I write to the fairest lady amongst all..blah ..blah..blah…….I wish to float with you amongst the clouds. I recently came into possession, from a rather seedy sailor I am afraid to note,  a herb that claims to help us fly…..blah blah …Nothing can stop us, even that painful thorn in the rear side, that is your father….blah blah ….

Your slave in love,

Matthew “

Before vowels and consonants….Matthew the very first, etched in rock a similar message to his Neanderthal-love.

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

———————  end———————

The rough translation for Matt and Kate’s text message exchange would go something like this , say if they were talking over a land-line, tethered to their kitchen walls in the 1980s.

“You are sexxxxxxxxy”, Matt makes kissing noises.

“You are sick “, Kathy stops him making an evil face at the phone.

“What did you say? “, Matty mock threatens Kathy and adds in a pious voice “I’m an angel”

“Friends”, Kathy declares peace to their mock fight.

“Let’s get high tonight”, Matty gets down to business.

“Which location”, Kathy inquires

“At my home”

“Parents are in the room”, Kathy says under her breath.

“Parents are a pain the a$$$$$”, Matty sings

Kathy laughs.

—

The about 150+ word above story was in response to ‘Monday’s finish the story’ flash fiction challenge. This unique flash fiction challenge  provides  a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. The challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided. Details are available here:

https://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2015/07/20/mondays-finish-the-story-july-20th-2015/