This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for July 27th.
Nancy watched flames dance in the evening breeze. An eerie smile graced her face while she slowly poured a line of gasoline from the small campfire to the tent, making sure to douse the outside of the enclosure.
Silently, she circled around the tent and back to the campfire. Once there, she sat the can down and drew a book of matches she had stolen earlier from her pocket. Striking a match, she giggled and dropped it on the line of gas.
She stood, transfixed, watching fire leap from the small blaze and follow the trail she had made to the tent.
“What the hell!” a voice cried from inside the tent.
Nancy giggled once more when the tent zipper refused to open; happy the glue she had applied earlier was working long enough for the fire to catch.
“Nancy!” the man yelled. “Help me!”
“I don’t want to help you tonight, Daddy,” Nancy replied. “I helped you last night remember? You said you’d never felt anything so warm.” Tears running down her cheeks, she added, “I told you it hurt, Daddy. That it burned like fire. You said a little fire never hurt anyone.”
Monday, August 17, 2009
Daddy's Little Helper
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story photo prompt from July 15th. I'm playing catch up!
Daniel never saw Roy pick the hammer up. One minute he was pounding the last nail into the porch step, and the next he was holding his hand close to his chest, jumping around and howling in pain.
Sandra couldn’t help but laugh. “He was only trying to help,” she sputtered. “You’re always saying you wish he’d do more guy stuff with you,” she added, quickly picking Roy up and heading inside.
Daniel never saw Roy pick the hammer up. One minute he was pounding the last nail into the porch step, and the next he was holding his hand close to his chest, jumping around and howling in pain.
Sandra couldn’t help but laugh. “He was only trying to help,” she sputtered. “You’re always saying you wish he’d do more guy stuff with you,” she added, quickly picking Roy up and heading inside.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Self Sufficient
The words for Three Word Wednesday this week were: cradle, perfect and snare. Hope you like my offering.
Jacob cackled with glee at the bounty the perfect snare he’d set the night before held. Picking it up, he settled the rabbit in the cradle of his arms and headed home for supper.
Jacob cackled with glee at the bounty the perfect snare he’d set the night before held. Picking it up, he settled the rabbit in the cradle of his arms and headed home for supper.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Impatient Torture
Finally doing another Three Word Wednesday prompt. Hope y'all like this one.
“Wipe that sulk off your face,” Terrance teased Bruce, who was starring hypnotically at the man before them, pouting because of the wait. “You’ll get to kill him soon enough.”
“This waiting around shit is for the birds,” Bruce answered back. “This is supposed to be torture?” he added, watching the drip drip of water hit their prisoners face.
“Supposed to drive them crazy or something, and make them want to talk to stop it,” Terrance replied.
“I don’t know about him, but it’s driving me crazy.”
“You didn’t have far to go,” Terrance quipped, and then ducked the blow Bruce aimed at his head.
The two were locked in a combat embrace when the door burst open. “What the hell’s going on here?” their commander demanded.
“Sorry, Sir,” Bruce saluted.
“Won’t happen again,” Terrance added.
“See that it doesn’t,” the commander said, then ordered, “Kill him,” pointing at the prisoner. “We no longer need the information he possess.”
Bruce smiled, saluted again, and headed for the door.
“Bout time.” Terrance heard him mumble, before he slipped his revolver out of its holster and shot the man twice in the head.
“Wipe that sulk off your face,” Terrance teased Bruce, who was starring hypnotically at the man before them, pouting because of the wait. “You’ll get to kill him soon enough.”
“This waiting around shit is for the birds,” Bruce answered back. “This is supposed to be torture?” he added, watching the drip drip of water hit their prisoners face.
“Supposed to drive them crazy or something, and make them want to talk to stop it,” Terrance replied.
“I don’t know about him, but it’s driving me crazy.”
“You didn’t have far to go,” Terrance quipped, and then ducked the blow Bruce aimed at his head.
The two were locked in a combat embrace when the door burst open. “What the hell’s going on here?” their commander demanded.
“Sorry, Sir,” Bruce saluted.
“Won’t happen again,” Terrance added.
“See that it doesn’t,” the commander said, then ordered, “Kill him,” pointing at the prisoner. “We no longer need the information he possess.”
Bruce smiled, saluted again, and headed for the door.
“Bout time.” Terrance heard him mumble, before he slipped his revolver out of its holster and shot the man twice in the head.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
The End
This is the last story I needed to do for the Your Photo Story prompt site to catch up.
Mark heard the rumble and looked up; not knowing it was already too late. He could only watch in horror as piles of boulders slammed down upon him. He tried to issue a warning to those below, but his scream was silenced by one well-placed rock landing on his head. In his last moments, Mark laid helpless, eyes focused on the house below, his wife and son silhouetted in living room window, tears streaming down their faces.
Mark heard the rumble and looked up; not knowing it was already too late. He could only watch in horror as piles of boulders slammed down upon him. He tried to issue a warning to those below, but his scream was silenced by one well-placed rock landing on his head. In his last moments, Mark laid helpless, eyes focused on the house below, his wife and son silhouetted in living room window, tears streaming down their faces.
Lost
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for June 16. I am catching my stories up today.
Tyler stopped to catch his breath, resting against a slab of rock. Standing upright again, he slammed his fist against the granite surface after noticing the map. The same map he had stumbled upon earlier and followed to find his way out of the woods.
“Damnit!” he shouted. “I’ve been going in circles!”
He studied the map once more, trying to figure out where he went wrong. “I don’t understand it, I followed the map exactly,” he mumbled, unfolding the piece of paper he had copied the map onto.
Disgusted, he crumpled the paper and shoved it in his pack. “I’ll find my own way out of these God forsaken woods,” he stated, setting out.
What he failed to notice was a small piece of rock lying on the ground at the base of the granite map that stated: Due to recent erosion and storms, the trail map is no longer correct. A new map will be provided soon.
Tyler stopped to catch his breath, resting against a slab of rock. Standing upright again, he slammed his fist against the granite surface after noticing the map. The same map he had stumbled upon earlier and followed to find his way out of the woods.
“Damnit!” he shouted. “I’ve been going in circles!”
He studied the map once more, trying to figure out where he went wrong. “I don’t understand it, I followed the map exactly,” he mumbled, unfolding the piece of paper he had copied the map onto.
Disgusted, he crumpled the paper and shoved it in his pack. “I’ll find my own way out of these God forsaken woods,” he stated, setting out.
What he failed to notice was a small piece of rock lying on the ground at the base of the granite map that stated: Due to recent erosion and storms, the trail map is no longer correct. A new map will be provided soon.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Release
Penelope was tired. She was tired of fighting, of trying to hang on. The pain was unbearable, excruciating. Every movement hurt, even blinking. It was time to end it.
Hearing his key in the lock, she braced herself.
“What the hell?” he screamed, sighting the mess in the floor. “Clean it up, bitch!”
Penelope spit in his face. “No.”
The blow was strong, but not strong enough.
“Is that all you’ve got?” she taunted.
His fists reigned down then. With the pain came release. Penelope smiled, being in control of her own fate for a change felt awesome.
Hearing his key in the lock, she braced herself.
“What the hell?” he screamed, sighting the mess in the floor. “Clean it up, bitch!”
Penelope spit in his face. “No.”
The blow was strong, but not strong enough.
“Is that all you’ve got?” she taunted.
His fists reigned down then. With the pain came release. Penelope smiled, being in control of her own fate for a change felt awesome.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Forbidden Swim
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week.
Amber watched the cool, clear water cascade over the rocks and splash into the stream below. She dipped her toes in the stream, testing the water temperature. Cold but bearable, she thought, scanning the tree line to see if anyone else was around.
Suppressing a girlish giggle, she started unbuttoning her blouse. By the time she was down to her knickers, she was shaking with anticipation. She knew the water was going to feel delicious.
“Aw, heaven,” she murmured, submerging up to her neck.
She swam and frolicked in the water for over an hour before the chill in the air caught her attention. Standing, she quickly covered her breasts and looked around, making sure she was still alone.
She slipped out of her knickers as fast as possible, and then donned her blouse and skirt. With one last, lingering glance at the falls and stream, she sighed and turned for home.
The man in the bushes wiped sweat from his brow. His hands were shaking he was so overworked from what he had just witnessed. “Heaven indeed,” he whispered, watching the woman disappear around the bend.
Amber watched the cool, clear water cascade over the rocks and splash into the stream below. She dipped her toes in the stream, testing the water temperature. Cold but bearable, she thought, scanning the tree line to see if anyone else was around.
Suppressing a girlish giggle, she started unbuttoning her blouse. By the time she was down to her knickers, she was shaking with anticipation. She knew the water was going to feel delicious.
“Aw, heaven,” she murmured, submerging up to her neck.
She swam and frolicked in the water for over an hour before the chill in the air caught her attention. Standing, she quickly covered her breasts and looked around, making sure she was still alone.
She slipped out of her knickers as fast as possible, and then donned her blouse and skirt. With one last, lingering glance at the falls and stream, she sighed and turned for home.
The man in the bushes wiped sweat from his brow. His hands were shaking he was so overworked from what he had just witnessed. “Heaven indeed,” he whispered, watching the woman disappear around the bend.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Reap the Oats You Sow
This is my contribution for this week's Your Photo Story prompt.
Jeb sat on the porch in his rocker, shotgun across his lap. He squinted into the distance, waiting for the first sign of dust to signal Marybeth’s return.
“That girl’s gonna be sorry she was ever born,” he muttered, spitting tobacco in a spittoon by his side.
“Aw, don’t be too hard on her, Jeb,” Sarah said from the doorway. “She’s just sowing her oats.”
“Wild oats, no doubt,” Jeb spat. “With that Williams boy.”
“He’s not a bad boy,” Sarah assured Jeb.
“Never said he was,” Jeb replied. “He’s just not good enough for my little girl.”
“Nobody’s gonna be good enough for Marybeth in your eyes, Jeb.”
“Damn right!” Jeb agreed, and spit another wad into the spittoon.
“She’s grown, Jeb. You gotta let her live her own life.”
“She can live her own life when she has he own house.”
“You never change,” Sarah sighed.
Jeb shrugged, and went back to rocking. Sarah knew there was no talking to him once he made up his mind. She went back in the house, waiting for the fight to come. Because as stubborn as Jeb was, Marybeth had him beat.
A few minutes later, Sarah heard the rocker stop squeaking. She stopped washing dishes, took a deep breath, and waited to hear what happened.
“Where’ve you been, girl?” Jeb demanded as soon as Marybeth and Jacob stepped onto the porch.
“We got married, Pa,” Marybeth said, smile beaming.
“You what!” Jeb shouted, jumping up and engaging the shotgun. “I’m gonna kill you, boy. Say your prayers now.”
“Pa!” Marybeth yelled, stepping in front of Jacob. “Hear me out.”
“I don’t care what you got to say,” Jeb shouted.
“I’m pregnant, Pa,” Marybeth whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You’re gonna be a grandpa.”
“I…what?” Jeb sputtered, falling hard into the rocker.
“Oh, baby,” Sarah said, rushing out the door and engulfing Marybeth in a hug. “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine, Ma,” Marybeth said. Pulling Jacob over, she added, “We’re both very happy about this baby.”
“That’s good.” Sarah offered, sliding a glance at Jeb.
“Well, you ain’t raising it here,” Jeb snapped.
“Jeb!” Sarah squealed. “Don’t be that way.”
“It’s ok, Ma. We don’t need to live here. Jacob rented us a place in town.”
Sarah couldn’t help herself. She poked Jeb in the ribs and said, “I guess she can live her own life then, huh?”
Jeb sat on the porch in his rocker, shotgun across his lap. He squinted into the distance, waiting for the first sign of dust to signal Marybeth’s return.
“That girl’s gonna be sorry she was ever born,” he muttered, spitting tobacco in a spittoon by his side.
“Aw, don’t be too hard on her, Jeb,” Sarah said from the doorway. “She’s just sowing her oats.”
“Wild oats, no doubt,” Jeb spat. “With that Williams boy.”
“He’s not a bad boy,” Sarah assured Jeb.
“Never said he was,” Jeb replied. “He’s just not good enough for my little girl.”
“Nobody’s gonna be good enough for Marybeth in your eyes, Jeb.”
“Damn right!” Jeb agreed, and spit another wad into the spittoon.
“She’s grown, Jeb. You gotta let her live her own life.”
“She can live her own life when she has he own house.”
“You never change,” Sarah sighed.
Jeb shrugged, and went back to rocking. Sarah knew there was no talking to him once he made up his mind. She went back in the house, waiting for the fight to come. Because as stubborn as Jeb was, Marybeth had him beat.
A few minutes later, Sarah heard the rocker stop squeaking. She stopped washing dishes, took a deep breath, and waited to hear what happened.
“Where’ve you been, girl?” Jeb demanded as soon as Marybeth and Jacob stepped onto the porch.
“We got married, Pa,” Marybeth said, smile beaming.
“You what!” Jeb shouted, jumping up and engaging the shotgun. “I’m gonna kill you, boy. Say your prayers now.”
“Pa!” Marybeth yelled, stepping in front of Jacob. “Hear me out.”
“I don’t care what you got to say,” Jeb shouted.
“I’m pregnant, Pa,” Marybeth whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. “You’re gonna be a grandpa.”
“I…what?” Jeb sputtered, falling hard into the rocker.
“Oh, baby,” Sarah said, rushing out the door and engulfing Marybeth in a hug. “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine, Ma,” Marybeth said. Pulling Jacob over, she added, “We’re both very happy about this baby.”
“That’s good.” Sarah offered, sliding a glance at Jeb.
“Well, you ain’t raising it here,” Jeb snapped.
“Jeb!” Sarah squealed. “Don’t be that way.”
“It’s ok, Ma. We don’t need to live here. Jacob rented us a place in town.”
Sarah couldn’t help herself. She poked Jeb in the ribs and said, “I guess she can live her own life then, huh?”
Truth by Mail
This is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt.
Samantha learned the folly of her ways after a particularly hostile missive arrived in the mail.
“Now I know what a sexy man like him was doing with an ordinary woman like me,” she sighed, tearing the letter his wife had sent up and throwing it in the trash.
Samantha learned the folly of her ways after a particularly hostile missive arrived in the mail.
“Now I know what a sexy man like him was doing with an ordinary woman like me,” she sighed, tearing the letter his wife had sent up and throwing it in the trash.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Orders
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week. It's very loosely based on truth about my dad.
Terry had stared into the camera, scared to death but trying hard not to show it. He had signed up to be a mechanic, but orders had come down and he was sent to Vietnam. Needless to say, his wife wasn’t happy with the arrangement either.
It turned out the deployment was more than his wife could take. She took the twins and left him, a dear John letter was the least of his worries. She took all his possessions and burned or sold them. She also kept the kids away from him when he came back. He hadn’t seen them since.
He sighed, crumpling the picture in his clinched fist. Looking back, Vietnam had been the best time of his life. People thought he was crazy for doing two tours, but he always asked them what he had to come home to.
Turns out, he was right. His life went straight to hell when he came back to the states. Protesters throwing tomatoes at disembarking soldiers, riots in the streets, and an empty house. If only that had been the worst of it.
Now, here he sat with lung cancer. They told him agent orange was responsible, which meant they’d pay the bills, but what good did that do him? He was still dying. Dying, in a one-room apartment, his only companion a floppy eared hound in dire need of a bath.
A knock at the door startled him. Hobbling over, he looked through the peephole, astonished he had company. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had come by.
“I’ll be damned,” he uttered, grabbing he door handle.
Standing on the other side, smiling shyly, were two mirror images of the picture still clutched in his hand.
Terry had stared into the camera, scared to death but trying hard not to show it. He had signed up to be a mechanic, but orders had come down and he was sent to Vietnam. Needless to say, his wife wasn’t happy with the arrangement either.
It turned out the deployment was more than his wife could take. She took the twins and left him, a dear John letter was the least of his worries. She took all his possessions and burned or sold them. She also kept the kids away from him when he came back. He hadn’t seen them since.
He sighed, crumpling the picture in his clinched fist. Looking back, Vietnam had been the best time of his life. People thought he was crazy for doing two tours, but he always asked them what he had to come home to.
Turns out, he was right. His life went straight to hell when he came back to the states. Protesters throwing tomatoes at disembarking soldiers, riots in the streets, and an empty house. If only that had been the worst of it.
Now, here he sat with lung cancer. They told him agent orange was responsible, which meant they’d pay the bills, but what good did that do him? He was still dying. Dying, in a one-room apartment, his only companion a floppy eared hound in dire need of a bath.
A knock at the door startled him. Hobbling over, he looked through the peephole, astonished he had company. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had come by.
“I’ll be damned,” he uttered, grabbing he door handle.
Standing on the other side, smiling shyly, were two mirror images of the picture still clutched in his hand.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Two Sentence Stories
A while back, I entered some two-sentence stories for a contest site. I didn’t win, but I like my stories so thought I’d share them with y’all. Do any of you write micro-fiction?
Abandoned
A single tear slid down his cheek, uncomfortable emotions clogged his throat, and anger pulsed at the injustice of it all when the tiny, perfect hand clasped his finger. With a frustrated sigh, he hugged the baby close, stood, and cast a last look at the carnage that represented two ruined lives, before walking around the lifeless body and handing the precious bundle to the waiting social worker.
Dumping the Pain
I sat, agonizing, wishing I’d made a different choice, and hoping the pain would end soon. After one last, sharp twinge expelled the demon mass from my body, I sighed, flushed, and went to rejoin the party, grabbing a cheese ball on the way.
Fire Stoked
When first married, passion’s fire so hot, never the lovemaking did you scrimp.Twenty years later, the embers are cold, and poker limp.
Overcoming Temptation
Ruth stood, empty hands clenched, watching the truck disappear.
“Wish he’d peddle his damn ice cream on another street,” she fumed, heading back inside.
Regrets
Heart heavy, shoulders slumped, he opened the front door. After crossing the threshold, with the mistake he made tormenting his soul, he shut the door on his past and his future.
Carnal Dance
Sweat glistened on bodies joined in carnal dance, trickled over softly rounded landscapes, dipped into secret valleys, while the frenzy increased. After echoes of the last soaring crescendo diminished, the slickened bodies separated, heartbeats slowed, and passion cooled the weeping love had ignited.
Financial Woes
Frustrated, Ronald released a forlorn sigh. Hanging his head in defeat, he placed one more bill on the ever-growing pile.
Impatience Rewarded
Smiling glances traded by the aged couple sitting on the front row as cherished memories dance through their minds, whispered antidotes of childhood pranks and mishaps, and one fidgety dance of impatience all come to a halt when the gilded doors at the back of the room opened. Tony knew the wait was worth it, the extra few minutes time well spent, when his bride came through the doors and he watched his future walk toward him, one beautiful step at a time.
Pushing the Limits
Poised on the brink, muscles taut, back straight, Carol dives into history. Slicing the water cleanly, no ripples present, she emerges to eruptions from the crowd and the announcer proclaiming a new record set.
Abandoned
A single tear slid down his cheek, uncomfortable emotions clogged his throat, and anger pulsed at the injustice of it all when the tiny, perfect hand clasped his finger. With a frustrated sigh, he hugged the baby close, stood, and cast a last look at the carnage that represented two ruined lives, before walking around the lifeless body and handing the precious bundle to the waiting social worker.
Dumping the Pain
I sat, agonizing, wishing I’d made a different choice, and hoping the pain would end soon. After one last, sharp twinge expelled the demon mass from my body, I sighed, flushed, and went to rejoin the party, grabbing a cheese ball on the way.
Fire Stoked
When first married, passion’s fire so hot, never the lovemaking did you scrimp.Twenty years later, the embers are cold, and poker limp.
Overcoming Temptation
Ruth stood, empty hands clenched, watching the truck disappear.
“Wish he’d peddle his damn ice cream on another street,” she fumed, heading back inside.
Regrets
Heart heavy, shoulders slumped, he opened the front door. After crossing the threshold, with the mistake he made tormenting his soul, he shut the door on his past and his future.
Carnal Dance
Sweat glistened on bodies joined in carnal dance, trickled over softly rounded landscapes, dipped into secret valleys, while the frenzy increased. After echoes of the last soaring crescendo diminished, the slickened bodies separated, heartbeats slowed, and passion cooled the weeping love had ignited.
Financial Woes
Frustrated, Ronald released a forlorn sigh. Hanging his head in defeat, he placed one more bill on the ever-growing pile.
Impatience Rewarded
Smiling glances traded by the aged couple sitting on the front row as cherished memories dance through their minds, whispered antidotes of childhood pranks and mishaps, and one fidgety dance of impatience all come to a halt when the gilded doors at the back of the room opened. Tony knew the wait was worth it, the extra few minutes time well spent, when his bride came through the doors and he watched his future walk toward him, one beautiful step at a time.
Pushing the Limits
Poised on the brink, muscles taut, back straight, Carol dives into history. Slicing the water cleanly, no ripples present, she emerges to eruptions from the crowd and the announcer proclaiming a new record set.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Spread Your Wings
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week.
Jake looked out over the horizon, waiting to catch his breath. The trek up the mountain had been hard on him, but he was determined to make it. A tear slipped down his cheek at the beauty nature laid out before him.
He knew people would think him selfish, but he just didn’t want to go on…not this way. The infection was slowly eating away at him from the inside out. The doctors can’t figure out how to stop it, so keep telling him to just take it easy and hope for the best. He knows there is no best though.
He could feel the end coming, and he knows it would not be pleasant, so he decided to take matters into his own hands.
What better way to go out, he thought, gazing at the mountains and valleys surrounding his perch.
“You lose!” he shouted, stepping off the precipice into serenity.
Jake looked out over the horizon, waiting to catch his breath. The trek up the mountain had been hard on him, but he was determined to make it. A tear slipped down his cheek at the beauty nature laid out before him.
He knew people would think him selfish, but he just didn’t want to go on…not this way. The infection was slowly eating away at him from the inside out. The doctors can’t figure out how to stop it, so keep telling him to just take it easy and hope for the best. He knows there is no best though.
He could feel the end coming, and he knows it would not be pleasant, so he decided to take matters into his own hands.
What better way to go out, he thought, gazing at the mountains and valleys surrounding his perch.
“You lose!” he shouted, stepping off the precipice into serenity.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Cause and Effect
This is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt. Hope you enjoy it!
Sean lined up, finding the perfect trajectory. With a last nervous look over his shoulder, he set the projectile on course, before ducking behind a concrete divider.
After hearing the first scream, Sean peeked around the divider. The chunks of red muck covering Casey William’s face brought a chuckle. The murderous look in her eye when she threw pudding at Sheila Brown added to his delight. At least now they have something to bicker about, he thought, slipping out the cafeteria doorway.
Sean lined up, finding the perfect trajectory. With a last nervous look over his shoulder, he set the projectile on course, before ducking behind a concrete divider.
After hearing the first scream, Sean peeked around the divider. The chunks of red muck covering Casey William’s face brought a chuckle. The murderous look in her eye when she threw pudding at Sheila Brown added to his delight. At least now they have something to bicker about, he thought, slipping out the cafeteria doorway.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Garden Guests
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week.
John stood back and looked at the garden with satisfaction. The perfect rows of corn swaying in the breeze, the tomatoes red and juicy, ready for picking, and the cabbage leaves nice and green. He thought maybe this farming business wasn’t going to be as hard as he once expected.
He was turning to go back inside when movement under a cabbage leaf caught his eye. Stepping closer to investigate, he about jumped out of his skin when a rabbit poked its head out.
“Get out of there,” he yelled, flapping his hat at the animal.
The rabbit hopped away, into the surrounding fields. John decided he might need some fencing around the garden like others had suggested. He sure didn’t want rabbits eating up all his vegetables, so planned to go into town and get some fencing the next day.
The next morning, John was getting in his truck when he noticed something didn’t look right in the garden. On closer inspection, he saw that one whole row of cabbage was destroyed. He could see evidence of teeth marks on the remaining stubs left in the ground.
“Damn rabbits!”
John worked long into the evening installing his newly purchased fence, cursing rabbits the whole time. He was sure the garden was secure once he finished. Rubbing his aching back, he retreated to the comfort of home.
Late that night, a sound woke him from a deep sleep. Climbing unsteadily to his feet, he looked out the kitchen window.
“I’ll be damned,” he sputtered, watching rabbits hop all around the cabbage rows. “I don’t know how you got in there, you little bastards, but I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he whispered, grabbing his shotgun.
Not even stopping to dress, John ran outside. He was in such a hurry, he forgot the front steps were lose and tumbled down them head over heels, landing on the left over fencing material he was going to get rid of the next morning.
After pushing to his feet, John shook his head to clear it. Seeing another cabbage leaf in the garden become rabbit food, his blood boiled. He let out a roar and started forward, entangling both feet in fence wire.
This time when he fell, his head hit the sledgehammer he had used to pound the fence posts into the ground, cracking his skull and ending his troubles.
The rabbits watched to see if the human would move again. Finally, they decided it was safe and resumed dinner.
John stood back and looked at the garden with satisfaction. The perfect rows of corn swaying in the breeze, the tomatoes red and juicy, ready for picking, and the cabbage leaves nice and green. He thought maybe this farming business wasn’t going to be as hard as he once expected.
He was turning to go back inside when movement under a cabbage leaf caught his eye. Stepping closer to investigate, he about jumped out of his skin when a rabbit poked its head out.
“Get out of there,” he yelled, flapping his hat at the animal.
The rabbit hopped away, into the surrounding fields. John decided he might need some fencing around the garden like others had suggested. He sure didn’t want rabbits eating up all his vegetables, so planned to go into town and get some fencing the next day.
The next morning, John was getting in his truck when he noticed something didn’t look right in the garden. On closer inspection, he saw that one whole row of cabbage was destroyed. He could see evidence of teeth marks on the remaining stubs left in the ground.
“Damn rabbits!”
John worked long into the evening installing his newly purchased fence, cursing rabbits the whole time. He was sure the garden was secure once he finished. Rubbing his aching back, he retreated to the comfort of home.
Late that night, a sound woke him from a deep sleep. Climbing unsteadily to his feet, he looked out the kitchen window.
“I’ll be damned,” he sputtered, watching rabbits hop all around the cabbage rows. “I don’t know how you got in there, you little bastards, but I’m gonna teach you a lesson,” he whispered, grabbing his shotgun.
Not even stopping to dress, John ran outside. He was in such a hurry, he forgot the front steps were lose and tumbled down them head over heels, landing on the left over fencing material he was going to get rid of the next morning.
After pushing to his feet, John shook his head to clear it. Seeing another cabbage leaf in the garden become rabbit food, his blood boiled. He let out a roar and started forward, entangling both feet in fence wire.
This time when he fell, his head hit the sledgehammer he had used to pound the fence posts into the ground, cracking his skull and ending his troubles.
The rabbits watched to see if the human would move again. Finally, they decided it was safe and resumed dinner.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Turn About is Fair Play
This is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt. Short, but not so sweet!
It came to Sarah in a flash. No tiptoeing around or being cryptic, she went straight for the jugular.
Robin Johnson gave Gary Evans a blowjob last Saturday behind Jake’s BBQ.
Malign my character again, bitch, she thought, hitting send, and sitting back with a self-satisfied smile, watching the messages start popping up.
It came to Sarah in a flash. No tiptoeing around or being cryptic, she went straight for the jugular.
Robin Johnson gave Gary Evans a blowjob last Saturday behind Jake’s BBQ.
Malign my character again, bitch, she thought, hitting send, and sitting back with a self-satisfied smile, watching the messages start popping up.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Daddy's Belt
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week. I bet this one is something alot of people can relate to in one way or another.
Amelia stares at the belt, goose bumps popping out on her arms. She doesn’t move though. She knows to run will bring worse consequences than standing and taking her punishment like a man.
She remembers the day she asked her father how she could take it like a man when she was a girl. She never made that mistake again. Rubbing her leg, she winces while thinking about the welt he had left that took three weeks to heal.
Cringing when the screen door slams, Amelia calmly walks to the belt. Pulling it off the hook, she carries it outside to her father who was waiting behind the barn. He takes the belt, sits down on the oak stump, and pats his lap. Amelia lies across his legs, waiting for the first stinging thwack.
Jerking, but being sure to make no noise, Amelia endures her punishment. She is confused when her father stops at three smacks, expecting the usual five. Suddenly, she finds herself in the dirt at her father’s feet. Looking up, she sees him clinch his chest and fall backward over the stump.
“Come along, Amelia.”
“I’m coming, Mama,” Amelia replies, stepping to her side. “Here,” she says, thrusting something into her mother’s hand. “I didn’t want them to forget daddy’s belt,” she smiles, and wonders at the tear running down her mother’s cheek.
Amelia stares at the belt, goose bumps popping out on her arms. She doesn’t move though. She knows to run will bring worse consequences than standing and taking her punishment like a man.
She remembers the day she asked her father how she could take it like a man when she was a girl. She never made that mistake again. Rubbing her leg, she winces while thinking about the welt he had left that took three weeks to heal.
Cringing when the screen door slams, Amelia calmly walks to the belt. Pulling it off the hook, she carries it outside to her father who was waiting behind the barn. He takes the belt, sits down on the oak stump, and pats his lap. Amelia lies across his legs, waiting for the first stinging thwack.
Jerking, but being sure to make no noise, Amelia endures her punishment. She is confused when her father stops at three smacks, expecting the usual five. Suddenly, she finds herself in the dirt at her father’s feet. Looking up, she sees him clinch his chest and fall backward over the stump.
***
“Come along, Amelia.”
“I’m coming, Mama,” Amelia replies, stepping to her side. “Here,” she says, thrusting something into her mother’s hand. “I didn’t want them to forget daddy’s belt,” she smiles, and wonders at the tear running down her mother’s cheek.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
To Pay or Not to Pay
This is my contribution to the Three Word Wednesday prompt for the week.
Brandon knew an opportunity when he saw one. The quarrel with his conscience didn’t last long.
“Wonderful service, old chap,” he informed the waiter, slapping him on the shoulder on his way out the door, leaving the check and payment in the little folder on the table.
“Damn,” cried the waiter, retrieving the money and noticing he had forgotten to add the entre to the bill. “What happened to all the honest people?”
Brandon knew an opportunity when he saw one. The quarrel with his conscience didn’t last long.
“Wonderful service, old chap,” he informed the waiter, slapping him on the shoulder on his way out the door, leaving the check and payment in the little folder on the table.
“Damn,” cried the waiter, retrieving the money and noticing he had forgotten to add the entre to the bill. “What happened to all the honest people?”
Monday, April 27, 2009
Troll Under the Bridge
This is my contribution to the Your Photo Story prompt for the week. A new take on an old tale.
“We can’t cross it,” Sherrie whispered to Rachel. “He’ll get us if we do!”
“Don’t be silly, Sherrie. There is no troll under this bridge. That was just a fairy tale.”
Sherrie studied the old bridge, trying to see underneath without actually getting any closer. She knew Rachel thought she was being a baby, but that troll under the bridge story really scared her. This bridge looked old enough a troll would like it, so she was not crossing it first.
“You go first then,” she told Rachel, pushing her forward.
“Oh, alright!” Rachel said, throwing her hands up in frustration. “You’ll see there’s nothing under this old bridge.
Rachel stepped to the edge of the bridge and halted. She would never admit it to Sherrie, but the story got to her a little too. She didn’t really believe trolls lived under bridges, but this one was old and rotten looking.
Drawing a deep breath, Rachel made the first step onto the bridge. It creaked under her weight, but nothing jumped out, so she proceeded. Sherrie watched, warily eyeing the bushes under the bridge for any sign of movement.
Rachel made it half way across, when a terrible thrashing ensued under the bridge. She screamed, ran back to Sherrie, grabbed her hand, and led her back toward home.
Neither of them noticed the family of rabbits hop from under the bridge and flee into the woods.
“We can’t cross it,” Sherrie whispered to Rachel. “He’ll get us if we do!”
“Don’t be silly, Sherrie. There is no troll under this bridge. That was just a fairy tale.”
Sherrie studied the old bridge, trying to see underneath without actually getting any closer. She knew Rachel thought she was being a baby, but that troll under the bridge story really scared her. This bridge looked old enough a troll would like it, so she was not crossing it first.
“You go first then,” she told Rachel, pushing her forward.
“Oh, alright!” Rachel said, throwing her hands up in frustration. “You’ll see there’s nothing under this old bridge.
Rachel stepped to the edge of the bridge and halted. She would never admit it to Sherrie, but the story got to her a little too. She didn’t really believe trolls lived under bridges, but this one was old and rotten looking.
Drawing a deep breath, Rachel made the first step onto the bridge. It creaked under her weight, but nothing jumped out, so she proceeded. Sherrie watched, warily eyeing the bushes under the bridge for any sign of movement.
Rachel made it half way across, when a terrible thrashing ensued under the bridge. She screamed, ran back to Sherrie, grabbed her hand, and led her back toward home.
Neither of them noticed the family of rabbits hop from under the bridge and flee into the woods.
Defeat
This is my contribution to the Shortest Short Story contest on the Washwords site. I hope y'all like it.
I bet Washington didn’t use words like this when talking to his troops, Private Ward thought, listening while the sergeant hurled obscenities at the men of C Company. Then again, his men won their battle.
I bet Washington didn’t use words like this when talking to his troops, Private Ward thought, listening while the sergeant hurled obscenities at the men of C Company. Then again, his men won their battle.
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