Here is a weekly opportunity to allow your creative juices to flow.
Early every Wednesday morning a new photo prompt is revealed and members of the Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner’s Writing Community try their hand at creating a poem, or a flash piece or a short (under 300 words) story that has been ‘birthed’ from seeing the picture.
You should give it a try!
I know the host. He’s a great fellow. (Full disclosure- It’s me.)
The first three strategic interventions created only a muted response from the defacto-governmental officials. I had personally thought that using their world as a colored pencil- pin cushion was a uniquely creative way to show my disdain for the mere mortals. A few bureaucrats were slightly unnerved, but the majority of the governing bodies were still assuming that they would have a say-so in the new governing of their world.
They feigned concerned at my surprisingly immense powers to effortlessly infiltrate their world. The news organizations in each of the largest municipal groups kept the local populous unenlightened as to my unlimited sovereign authority.
My tauntings had been broadcast to the world as the birthing and showcasing of a budding abstract artist just of the cusp of stardom.
I did not see myself having any desire to become a demonic dictator of my New World Order, but I would be respected and obeyed. If humane warnings and benevolent power displays would not graciously compel them to bend-the-knee, I had other options.
“Merry Christmas,” Marigold, the youngest of Robin’s and Marian’s (no longer a maid but now his wife) youngest girl whispered as she handed her father her personally wrapped present. “I made it myself.”
Robin glowed as he received the present. Marigold was the only girl of seven children, the rest being boys.
Slowing opening the heavily-taped present, more slowly than usual, for he loved to tease his only girl, Robin carefully unfolded the yet-to-be-discovered masterpiece.
It was a new hunting hood. Bright, florescent orange.
Marigold was beaming. “Do you like it, Dad?”
“It’s just beautiful, honey,” responded Robin as he gave his youngest a great hug.
“Now, you have to wear it every day when you go out hunting. I want to be sure you are safe in Sherwood Forest. There are a lot of bandits prowling around in the woods and a person can never be too cautious.”
Robin’s oldest boys were splitting their sides trying to stifle their giggles.
Little Marigold had no idea of the noble errantry that was her father’s life’s work.
Written for Writingscapes (In a weird twist of fate, Robin Hood’s hood is bright orange): Humor.
“Look out the window, dear,” I tried to remain calm. “We have 57 inches of snow outside right now. There are drifts over 10 feet deep. You have had to climb through the window to get outside to shovel the kitchen door open the last two days to go feed the livestock and the hens because of the blowing winds.”
“Yes, the wind seems to be blowing all the snow away.”
“No, dear.” It’s hard to be the sane one in a couple when I have been house-bound for eight days. “The snow is still there. Just look out your window. You can see it.”
“If we just get a little more snow, maybe they will cancel school for the rest of the week.”
“Darling, schools have already been called off until at least next Monday. We heard it on the radio last night.”
“Oh, that’s right,” my husband replied. “I remember.”
FYI: I could have been this person. I loved the start of school. I loved vacation days. I loved each Monday to see the students again. I loved a surprise day off.
It’s strange, even after being retired for several years, I still look forward to the first day of school and I still love snow days off from school.
“Yes, as you can see from the small contingency of police here, we had, what we thought, a break-in… but it’s been decided that apparently it was faulty wiring in the alarm system.”
“I assure you, it’s very safe to tour the downstairs winery in the catacombs.”
“At this very spot Montresor, a favored character of Poe, invited Fortunato for his last sip of ‘the wine of very fine vintage’.”
“This back wall was the tomb of the imprisoned.”
One of the teens in the group interrupted. “Did you know the masonry between these bricks is moist to the touch?”
FYI: There was a legend in the time of Poe (while he was stationed at Fort Independence) of a sword dual between Lieutenant Robert Massie and Lieutenant Gustavus Drane because of a dispute in a card game. Lieutenant Massie killed Lieutenant Drane. Friends of Lieutenant Drane’s chained Massie to a vault in the inner walls of this cellar… imprisoning him by building a secondary wall.
The legend is not true.
The sword fight did happen on Christmas Day 1817. . Massie was court-martialed and acquitted of all charges. Massie death is record it have happened in 1846.