?? THE UNSPOKEN ??

slave-graves-at-Monticello
slave-graves-at-Monticello

?? The Unspoken ??

You call him racist, yet you never met the man.

You call him slaver, not taking into account the times.

You try to see a past world through the rose-colored glasses of the 21st century- instead of walking a mile in the shoes of the men and women in our household.

****

I hold you to account.

****

You have taken the time- and the monies- to study our lives…

Our deaths…

Even our final resting places…

Yet you fail to grant us the respect you claim he lacked.

You leave our graves unmarked.

To you… we are a tourist attraction?



Written for Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge.

Requirements: The October 21, 2015 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a final resting place. You can take any perspective that appeals to you from the historic to the horrific. Just don’t scare me too greatly. You can also choose to write about those buried before they came to their final rest. An extra challenge is to discover a story or character from a local cemetery. I double-dog dare you to join me with your own cemetery day!

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THE FAMILY JEWELS

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http://www.urbandictionary.com


THE FAMILY JEWELS


3WW Week No. 447



He slowly sat up from the floor of the bridal suite. His head still woozy. This was supposed to be their honeymoon night.

She was gone.

Beside him lay the reason for his headache.

She could be such a thoughtless, uptight, drama queen. What was the big deal?

So… he had brought his Heisman with him.

He carried it everywhere.

She knew that.

He had had it with him at the restaurant when he had proposed to her.

She had her jewels… He had his.

He thought they had worked this out.

Rubbing the back of head…. “Apparently not?”



Written for Three Word Wednesdays: Week 447. Requirements: With a piece of flash fiction using the required three words.

Thoughtless, adjective: (of a person or their behavior) not showing consideration for the needs of other people, without consideration of the possible consequences.

Uptight, adjective: anxious or angry in a tense and overly controlled way.

Woozy, adjective: unsteady, dizzy, or dazed.

SHARON???

PHOTO PROMPT © Ron Pruitt 100 words https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/10/21/23-october-2015/
PHOTO PROMPT © Ron Pruitt 100 words https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/10/21/23-october-2015/



SHARON??? 




“Didn’t want to leave. No real choice.”

“I hate you. I never want to see you again.”

“I don’t know if she meant those words or not. But once words are released, they’re hard to get back. She didn’t even try to get them back.”

“I’m going for a drive. When I get back, I don’t want you here!” SLAM!!!

“The conclusion was pretty easy to understand? I packed. Get out. Don’t bother looking back.”

“I was lucky to get the ticket. Good thing the final fight was payday.”

HONK! HONK!! HONK!!!

“Sharon?? What the devil does she want now?”



Written for Friday Fictioneers: Requirements: Create a 100 word flash fiction story from the given photo prompt.

TRICK QUESTIONS

SCHOOL LIFE IS THE BEST LIFE Pinterest
SCHOOL LIFE IS THE BEST LIFE Pinterest


Trick Questions



A Pulitzer-winning reporter is writing an in-depth piece — about you. What are the three questions you really hope she doesn’t ask you?



Talk about a trick question! While being interviewed by a reporter… no less a Pulitzer-winning reporter… would be both invigorating, as well as terrifying, ….

There is NO WAY I would ever reveal the three questions that I do not want to answer to a reporter! …. Even if I knew what the three questions were?



In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Trick Questions.”

BEST DOG I EVER HAD

https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/
https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/


BEST DOG I EVER HAD



“Best dog I ever had.” You could hear the slight catch in his voice as Uncle Alfred spoke.

“Tell us the story again,” we chimed in together. As twins, this togetherness thing was our special gift. But without Rover, Uncle Alfred’s dog, we wouldn’t be hearing this story for the umpteenth item… and still loving it.

“Must’a been three years ago. You guys were had just turned seven. Even then, you two loved to traipse the fields with me. Herding the cattle. Counting the sheep. It was like I had identical miniature shadows.”

“The spring floods had just swept through the range. We were out checking to line fences.”

“The plateau at the Northwestern corner was our last stop. From the truck we could see the fencing had been breached by a sinker. I was getting my tools to assess the damage…”

“You two ran on ahead. You always loved the view from the cliffs edges. You were careful kids… but the last storm had been on a rampage. The deluge from the storm had weakened the bank.”

“I saw you go down. You were a good ten feet from the fencing line. But suddenly… you were no longer there.”

“Rover was down the bank and was laying under your feet before I was able to find a safe place to even look for you.”

“Rover dug in under you and held the sliding bank firm as I lowered a rope.”

“As I raised you both up, Rover remained. Just as his hind legs dug in to struggle to the top, the bank gave way.”

“The entire fence line went with him.”

“We drove to the lower field. We found him at the bottom of the embankment entwined in the barbed fencing.”

“There was nothing we could do.” Bruce began the ending of the story.

“Rover dies in our arms,” continued Bart.

“That’s right,” Grandfather said. “Rover did what he was trained to do. He gave his life for you boys.”

The boys rubbed the head of the stone statue themselves. “Best dog we ever had,” they whispered together.



Written for Sunday Photo Fictioneer. Requirements: Create a 200 word flash fiction piece from the photo prompt. (I cheated… This one went over?)

MISPLACED TRUST?

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MISPLACED TRUST?



Three Word Wednesdays

#448



 The safe was empty. It took a moment to absorb that the $10,000 dollars that had just been placed there, not a half hour ago, was gone.

Then, it dawned on him; only three people knew the money was in the safe- His two sons and himself. Other than tonight, the only thing that was ever in the safe were old documents. Sure, they had some historical value- but they were still neatly resting in the bottom of the safe. Only the money was missing.

“But I trust them both,” Harold thought as he reluctantly walked to his desk. “Do I call the police?”

He paused as he saw a light in the far hall. Apparently the boys were still awake. “Maybe there could be some simple explanation for the unexplainable?”

With a stealth that send guilty chills to pierce his heart, he made his way to their lighted bedroom. He had not thought of eavesdropping on his sons since they were seven. Trust was essential, if you were to accept your boys as men.

He was certain that the boys had to be innocent, yet he felt compelled to linger. He felt lucky that the door had been left ajar.

        “I’ll just catch a snippet of what they are saying before I knock.”

        “We did it.”

“I did it.”

“Well, I’m the one who found the combination.”

“Yea. You’ve had that combination for two years. You never did anything with it.”

“There was never anything in the safe worth taking.”

        I could not believe my ear!  Resolved to settle things tonight… To keep this trouble in the family… I knocked and entered.

To my surprise, they were not alone!



Written for Three Word Wednesdays: Week 448. Requirements: With a piece of flash fiction using the required three words.

Absorb, verb: take in or soak up (energy, or a liquid or other substance) by chemical or physical action, typically gradually, take in and assimilate (information, ideas, or experience), take control of (a smaller or less powerful entity), making it a part of oneself by assimilation, use or take up (time or resources), take up and reduce the effect or intensity of (sound or an impact), engross the attention of (someone).

Certain, adjective: known for sure; established beyond doubt, having complete conviction about something; confident, specific but not explicitly named or stated.

Empty, adjective: containing nothing; not filled or occupied, (of words or a gesture) lacking meaning or sincerity, having no value or purpose; verb: remove all the contents of (a container), remove (the contents) from a container, (of a place) be vacated by people in it.

OUT OF YOUR REACH

s-l500 erector set



Out of Your Reach



Was there a toy or thing you always wanted as a child, during the holidays or on your birthday, but never received? Tell us about it.



When I was younger, life was good.

At least as far as I knew, life was good.

It was the only life I knew.

I had friends in many circles of society. I knew kids that had fewer things than I had. I knew kids that had many more things than I had.

I had what I needed.

Life was good.

I was fine.

The weeks preceding the winter holidays- then, it would have been after Halloween- my sister and I would each take turns going to the mailbox awaiting the Christmas catalogs.

We would then spend hours, carefully thumbing through the pages of the books in search of presents that we wanted to put on put Christmas lists.

One present that always made it on my list of possible Christmas presents was an erector set. Each year, erector sets were designed monumentally better and better… also, each year they became more and more expensive.

An erector set was never in the top four or five presents, but it was probably always in the top twenty?

I loved sports… so new sporting equipment was often on the list.

I loved picking out my own clothes… so particular shirts were listed. (I only wore blue jeans. No need to list them!)

I was an avid reader… books were always on the list.

From the list that I would create each years, I suspect I received six or seven of my top ten items every year. I really don’t know how my parents pulled it off some years, but Christmas morning was always a great event.

Baseballs, and bats, and gloves, and particular shirts, and puzzles… and board games, and card games… and books.

I don’t think I ever felt I was in lack.

The missing erector set… never truly missed.



In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Out of Your Reach.”