The World Went Black

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“You boys can take any of those stumps back there behind the corn crib,” Jake said to his friends. “They will make good firewood this winter.”

Jake’s friends walked behind the corn crib and saw all the tree stumps. One turned and asked Jake where he got them. Jake said he cut trees on his property and sold them to a company that makes hardwood floors.

“Jake, you live in the Daniel Boone National Forest. How are you cutting trees, man?”

Jake told them that the trees were at the back of his property. He said no one would know. One of the men in the group stepped forward and told Jake he should not be cutting young trees in the woods to sell. That it was not environmentally conscious. The man went on to say that someone should turn Jake in to the authorities. He turned to walk off.

Boom!! The world went black. That was the last thing the man knew for several hours.

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Friends

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John decided to warm up while Carl and Scotty bought their train tickets. The train ran much later tonight, but they had to get their seats. They wanted to entertain the crowd and maybe make a little money while they waited. They had hours to play some of their music – classic British rock.

Carl’s fiancee was waiting on him at his Mum’s home in Scotland. The wedding was this weekend. John and Scotty were standing up with him. Carl was so excited he could hardly hold his guitar. A big party was planned after the wedding and John and Scotty were going to be the band.

Carl and Scotty came running out of the terminal.

“John,” they cried, “There are no tickets left for the train to Scotland. We’re on the waiting list.”

“Start playing,” John said. “We’ll make enough money to hire a car if we have to. Nothing will stop your wedding, Carl!”

 

Photo credit to Sunayana MoiPensieve

The Moonshiners

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“Barney, be quiet, for God’s sake. Don’t alert the whole county that we’re out here,” Lester whispered.

“I’m trying, Lester, but the leaves and limbs on this forest floor make noise when you walk on them.”

“The moonshine still is right over here, Barney. Behind the old car. Just stand right there.”

Lester grabs the something that turns out to be a camouflage tarp and pulls it loose. A moonshine still was under it. Barney got the supplies for the mash to make the ‘shine out of the truck and they went to work. A combination of water, cracked corn, sugar, and yeast. Lester told Barney to go on home.

Lester was serving as the guard of the still that night. Before Barney left, he got Lester’s guns out of the truck. A pistol and an automatic rifle, an AR-15. That should take care of snoops and lawmen.

Christmas Miracle

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The street light glowed brightly at the end of the side street of the dying town. It was Christmas Eve but the homeless men who huddled around the barrel glowing with fire didn’t notice. They were focused on getting warm. It was a frigid winter’s night.

Most of the men didn’t have gloves and held their hands over the fire. Some would probably not survive the night. All would sleep close to the barrel or in nearby doorways. The small town didn’t have funds to help the homeless.

They were hungry but their hunger took second place to the cold. Out of the darkness, a shadow appeared. The shadow approached the men slowly. It was a young girl carrying large brown bags in both hands.

She sat the bags on the ground and walked away. The smell of hot food was  unmistakable. The men slowly walked toward the bags and smiled at their Christmas miracle.

155 words

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Photo credit to @Maria@Doodles and Scribbles

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The Letter

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June 18, 1899

Dear Miss Chandler:

Thank you for your letter concerning our patient, Mrs. Monica Chandler. I understand that you recently discovered that she is your mother and would like to know her condition and whether you can visit.

Mrs. Chandler came to us almost 20 years ago due to a diagnosis of post-partum depression. I believe this was after the birth of her second child, a female. She was committed to our institution by her husband, August Chandler.

For the last five years, Mrs. Chandler has been in a catatonic state, despite the efforts of our doctors. She has never had visitors to my knowledge. Although you can visit, I don’t think you or Mrs. Chandler would find such a visit very satisfactory.

Sincerely,

Dr. Charles Wetherly

Medford Mental Facility

 

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*This post sponsored by Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.

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Mother, May I?

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As they drove home from the city, the sky looked ominous. They were late and her mother was going to be waiting on her dinner. They had needed time to themselves today. Her mother was always there. They never had any alone time. She hated thinking things like this. Her mother was ill. They had stayed as late as possible and had even had a wonderful French dinner.

Because her mother felt badly, she didn’t want anyone else to feel good so she always gave them the evil eye when they laughed even the tiniest bit at home. Sometimes she shocked herself at the sound of her own laughter, she heard it so seldom.

As they got out of the car, they heard voices in the house and laughter. What could that be? They raced inside. There sat her mother with friends, talking, laughing, looking quite guilty. She sat down at the table and cried. #amwriting #amblogging #writing #romance #depression

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The Spook

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We are sitting across the street in the non-descript black sedan watching Frank’s house. The Agency has assigned us to the job of determining if Frank is circumspect enough to work for them, to be a spy. There are a lot of moving parts to check out.

Today, we’re charged with following Frank to make sure he isn’t hooking up with any other agencies.

“Here he comes,” says my sidekick, Margaret. “He’s got his dog with him, a black Lab it appears.”

“Probably going for their morning walk,” I reply. “Let’s see if there is any pattern to where he has gone for the past couple of weeks.”

“Look at this data,” Margaret says. “He has gone to the same Russian coffee shop every morning since he has lived here, taking his dog with him”

“What joker is trying to stick The Agency with a Russian spy?” I scoff.

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The Diamond

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The exotic-looking man stood at the jewelry counter waiting on the diamond expert. The expert was appraising the frightfully large diamond. He had just sent word that it was over six carats. It was multi-faceted and seemed faintly pink. What the expert didn’t know is that it was millenia-old and priceless.

The exotic-looking man was getting restless. He had been there, in public, for a long time. He needed to get back to his friends and his home. He needed to sell this diamond for the children in the Old Country.

The expert appeared and gave him price at which they could try to sell the diamond to their high rollers in the gem world. He offered to showcase it for the man and he placed it in the window of the shop. Rays of the sun hit it and it glowed. The man shrank back into the corner.

THe transaction was complete. The exotic-looking man walked out the door and vanished into thin air. #FfFAW #amwriting #amblogging #writing #flashfiction

*Photo courtesy of Jade Wong

*FfFAW courtesy of Priceless Joy

Good books!:

Discovery of Witches – All Souls Trilogy

The Man’s Retreat

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We looked at the property in the fall and the deep gold of the leaves astounded us. Behind the main house was this shed. Just the kind of place my husband liked for himself. A retreat. Never mind that is was open air with an air conditioner in a strange place or that it was only partially painted. My husband was handy. He could fix all that. I think he wanted to buy the property more for the shed than the house.

He had big plans for that shed. It would be his work room for his woodworking. He could store his plethora of parts he kept to fix anything that went wrong in the house or with the cars.

More than that, he could make it his own with a little creativity. He insisted that we buy the property. He already felt at home. #amwriting #writing #blogging #FFfAW #flashfiction

*Thanks to PricelessJoy for #FFfAW ahd pholor for the photo prompt.

Breckinridge and the Reunion

 

imageTim and Skip looked at the picture fondly. They remembered the days of soccer at Breckinridge. After finding it, they were discussing a reunion of the soccer boys who were in their class.

“That’s Kenny and Scott,” Skip said. “Here is Clif and Reggie,” Tim added, “and Jerry and Peter.” The other two were them. “I think we can get all of us together,” Tim remarked. Of course, Scott would not be there. He had passed away a number of years ago. They divided up the names and agreed to make phone calls.

Breckinridge had closed many years ago and was now a university building. After they all connected, they agreed to meet at a local restaurant for dinner, drinks, and a lot of reminiscing.

The reunion was a great success. Everyone had gone their separate ways but coming back together, except for the missing one, helped keep them grounded and gave them strength.

 

*Photo courtesy of Yinglan

*FFfaw sponsored by Priceless Joy