Written for Melissa’s Fandango
Flash Fiction Challenge #350.
Here’s where the prompt took me.
Tag: Alone
Weathering The Dark
Written for Sadje’s “What Do You See” #317
Here’s where the photo prompt took me.
RDP Thursday: kindred
Today at RDP, we are asked to share a
story, poem, photo, painting, essay, etc.,
focusing on the word ‘kindred’. Here’s my take.
Matins
Written for Shweta’s Six Word Story Prompt #131.
Graphic by Kevin @ The Beginning At Last/No Theme
Thursday. The prompt word is ‘solitude’. This is my story.
Cry Me A River
Written for Shweta’s Saturday Six Word Challenge #126.
I have also used one of the great images by Kevin @
No Theme Thursday. This week’s prompt word is
“hopeless”. Here is my 6 word very short story.
The Rift
Shweta is our host for the Saturday Six Word Challenge – #118.
This week’s prompt word is “beginnings”. Here is my 6 word story.
Who Could Ask For More
This week at Writing Prompts, Esther has teased us
with the word ‘gifts’. Meanwhile, Gerry and Sue
at Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge have
offered up the word ‘decorations’. This is my story.
Christmas Tree Soliloquy
Written for dVerse Poets where we are encouraged to compose an
Etheree based on trees …. Christmas or fir-themed … consisting
of 10 lines. In an Etheree, the first line has one syllable;
the second line has two syllables, and so on, until there are
ten syllables in the tenth line. We are asked to create our Etheree
in the shape of a tree, with two extra lines of 2 syllables
each forming the trunk of our tree. This is my Etheree.
So Alone: An Ovi
Written for Ovi Poetry Challenge #70
Our inspiration word is “empty”
and this is my ovi,
The Struggle
Written for Ovi Poetry Challenge #68
where our inspiration word is “defeat”.
Here is my ovi.
There are times in life
Days full of stress and strife
Not just full but rife
And you’re ready to give up
Can’t tell friend from foe
A world teeming with woe
With no safe place to go
Living day-to-day is scary
People sleeping in the street
Begging for a bite to eat
No shelter from the searing heat
And no one lends a hand
The haves and the have nots
Big shots and little snots
Can’t connect the daily dots
The struggle is very real
Defeat may whisper in your ear
“Enough’s enough, come here my dear”
Ignore the voice and don’t go near
Bend gently in the wind
Life can be a slippery slope
Don’t lose your faith or your hope
Hang on tight to that safety rope
You will rise above
NAR©2024
This is “Don’t Give Up” by Peter Gabriel
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Just A Part Of Life
Written for Friday Fictioneers where our host Rochelle
has asked us to use the photo below as inspiration
to get creative in 100 words or less, making
every word count. Here’s my flash.
Jenny looked around the no-frills room which was now her home. A shy girl, she’d never spent a single night away from home; now she was half-way across the country at an unfamiliar university with thousands of nameless faces.
At first she didn’t want her parents’ help moving but at the last minute she relented. They were on their way home now and all Jenny wanted was to grab her phone and beg them to come back and take her home.
The sound of girl’s excited laughter echoed in the hall; Jenny peeked out and someone happily waved her over.
NAR©2024
100 Words
This is “What Is Life” by George Harrison
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
A Perfect Couple
Written for Fandango’s Story Starter #159
where the first sentence is the prompt and
for Weekly Prompts The One Day Prompt,
using the phrase ‘one day’. This is my story.
The sound of laughter drifted up from the street below, making Gregory feel very alone.
It’s hard to imagine life without her. When the hell did everything start to unravel?
Now he sat alone in the shell of their apartment, baseball game on the tv playing for no one, nursing his second scotch. This place used to be alive with people enjoying one of their famous parties. When he closed his eyes he could hear their friends’ lively discussions and the sound of her spirited laugh.
Everyone said they were the perfect couple. Theirs was a comfortable, easy marriage – dinner at Gallagher’s, cycling along Riverside Drive, steamy showers after Saturday morning sex. They were in sync in their choices of movies, paint colors and the biggest decision of all .… neither one wanted kids.
He sat there, head in hands while a thousand thoughts went through his mind. When did he begin having second thoughts? Was it when her sister asked them to be godparents for her first baby? Was it watching the kids in the playground across the street? All he could remember was the night he whispered in her ear that he wanted to have a baby.
She was blindsided. What? No! He was just named partner at Central Casting. She was food editor for Country Living magazine. Life was perfect. They had an agreement, dammit!
Would she just consider thinking about it? No! How could he spring this on her now?
Days, weeks went by. She remained adamant, distant. Then one day he came home after work and she was gone.
Here he sat alone with his scotch, ballgame long over, thumb rubbing his wedding band while he stared at divorce papers.
It couldn’t have happened to a more perfect couple.
NAR©2024
This is “The Dance” by Garth Brooks
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Of Memories And Dreams
Written for Friday Fictioneers where our gracious host, Rochelle,
encourages us to get creative in 100 words or less using this photo
as our inspiration. Here is my 100-word photo-inspired story.
Funny thing about dreams and memories; sometimes it’s difficult to tell them apart. Sometimes I just don’t want to.
That summer …. after the breakup …. I needed to be alone …. to think …. to put the hurt behind me. A few days at that motel on the beach seemed like a good idea at the time.
Everywhere I walked …. everything I saw …. reminded me of you. The scent of salt water. Scattered shells and seaweed. That song. Hot summer nights. Stars so close you could touch them.
Memories and dreams of you …. they’re funny that way.
NAR©2024
100 Words
This is “In Dreams” by Roy Orbison
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Fade To Black
Written for dVerse Poets Quadrille #202
– Hello Darkness –
where we are asked to embrace the dark
in 44 poetic words.
Death creeps
in the night,
hiding in the
darkest of places
where junkies
shoot up
in the alleys
by dim light.
But no one
is around
to see
the relief
on their faces
when they fade
to black
and softly give up
the fight.
NAR©2024
44 Words
This is Metallica with “Fade To Black”, live from Pinnacle Bank Arena, Lincoln, Nebraska
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
CANDLE IN THE WINDOW
One of the first things I noticed about the house across the street was the candle in an upstairs window.
It was December 1980 – two weeks before Christmas – and we had just moved into our new home. My mom quickly located the boxes marked ‘CHRISTMAS LIGHTS’ and put my dad to work decorating outside. When he was done every house on the street was aglow except for the one with the solitary candle. I was fascinated by that candle; it was lit twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
About a week later there was a knock on our front door. Mom answered and I scurried along behind her, anxious to see who was visiting us for the first time. Standing on the front porch was a chubby little old lady with silver hair, twinkling eyes and rosy cheeks and I couldn’t resist blurting out “Are you Mrs. Claus?” She chuckled a bit saying no, she was Mrs. Granger from across the street and had come to bring us an angel food cake as a welcoming gift. Mom introduced herself and invited Mrs. Granger inside but she declined saying “perhaps another time”. Before she left I told her my name was Eleanor and I had just turned ten on December 1. She smiled slightly at us but there was sadness in her eyes.
Mrs. Granger’s angel food cake sat on one of her beautiful Spode Christmas plates. Mom said we should return the plate on Christmas Day brimming with sugar cookies, which is exactly what we did. We rang the bell and mom apologized for showing up unannounced, adding that she hoped we weren’t interrupting her Christmas festivities.
“No, dear. Not at all. I was just preparing myself one of those frozen dinners – turkey, for a special treat.” Mom made polite small talk while I glanced around the living room. There wasn’t a single Christmas decoration in sight, not even a card. A fading ember in the fireplace made me think that Mrs. Granger was probably very lonely.
I suddenly found myself asking the question: “Mrs. Granger, why is there a candle in the window upstairs?”
Mom gave me a withering look as Mrs. Granger slowly walked to the sofa and slumped down. I felt awful when she started crying, dabbing her eyes with a lacy handkerchief. Mom sat next to her and held her hand, not speaking.
In hushed tones Mrs. Granger told us her story: she married late in life and was blessed with a son, Edward. Her husband died in an accident when Edward was three years old and she raised the boy by herself. When the U.S. entered the Vietnam War, Edward enlisted; he was declared MIA on December 1, 1970 and she hadn’t heard a word in the ten years since then. The candle in the window was her way of holding vigil for Edward, steadfastly waiting for any news. We sat together for a few minutes, then Mrs. Granger politely said she wanted to be alone. Silently we left. It was then that I understood why she looked so sad when I told her my birthday; – her son went missing the day I was born.
Two days later mom returned to Mrs. Granger’s. She apologized for the intrusion on Christmas Day and said we hoped she would join us for New Year’s Eve dinner. Mrs. Granger said gently “No, dear. I haven’t celebrated a new year since Edward disappeared.”
I couldn’t stop thinking about Mrs. Granger. Our New Year’s Eve table was set for three, sparkling with mom’s best dishes, silverware and crystal glasses. I sat in the bay window watching the lightly falling snow; then I noticed the candle in the window of Mrs. Granger’s house was not lit.
“Mom!” I gasped. “The candle is out.”
Mom, dad and I walked across the street on leaden feet. Mom rapped softly on the door; we could see a dim glow coming from the fireplace. One more knock and the door opened slightly; Mrs. Granger appeared, her face wet with tears.
“Are you alright, Mrs. Granger?” mom inquired with obvious concern in her voice.
“Oh, my dear! My mind has been preoccupied all day” she replied, her voice trembling. “You see, I received some news today.”
Mrs. Granger turned and walked back inside, leaving the door ajar; apprehensively we followed her. There by the fireplace stood a handsome, smiling soldier; her long-lost son Edward had finally returned home.
We were overjoyed for Mrs. Granger; finally some happiness in the dear old lady’s life. We said our goodbyes and headed for the door.
“Wait, my dears!” Mrs. Granger called out. “There’s something I’ve been waiting a long time to say. Happy New Year to us all!”
We smiled through our tears knowing Mrs. Granger’s deepest wish came true this New Year’s Eve. The candle in the window was out but a new flame burned brightly in her heart. She’d never be lonely again.
NAR © 2018
The Elephant's Trunk 