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.)
As a lad, my mother shared recipes with the ER nurses at our local rescue sub-station. She probably saw them once a week- thanks to me.
At forty, I like to think I have gotten older and wiser. I realize the thin thread that keeps life in balance. And I have a far firmer grasp on the frailties of life.
I still enjoy a magnificent adrenaline rush…
But I usually experience the rush from a more reclined position.
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.
I gave a silent chuckle. Any time Ashton began his pleas of innocence with an “I didn’t do it.” I could be fairly sure He had done it. He was not a good fibber. For that, as a mother, I was very grateful and I hoped this flaw would last another ten years.
“The camera was in my purse when we left the car.” I tried to remain calm. It was really no big deal that Ashton was so excited about using the camera. I had intended to show him some of the tricks-of-the-trade on our outing anyway. But he needed to learn a little patience.
“If you took it, you need to tell me, son. You’re constantly getting distracted and losing things. How many times have we had this conversation? This new camera is not a toy.”
“Mom, I didn’t take it.”
This time his response had more of a-ring-of-truth to it.
“Then where is it?” I thought I would short cut all the cajoling and cut straight to the chase.
“He has it.” Ashton was pointing directly behind me.
Quickly I turned right to look behind me. There was no one there.
“Ashton, I’m not upset with you, yet. I understand that you want to use the camera to complete your zoological tour project. That’s a good thing. A very responsible thing. That’s why I went ahead a purchases the camera before your birthday. But we’re getting to that point of no return. We’ve talked about this.” I was very proud of myself for keeping my cool.
“It’s right there is his hand, Mom.”
“Ashton…” I said as I turned again. This time to my left.
And there it was. Two adult macaques were busy passing my new camera between themselves looking at it with fascination.
“Read the sign, Mom.”
Right above me was bold red sign. The printing in bold block letters.
Curious Monkeys
Watch Your Belongings
“You really need to be more careful with things, Mom.” The sweet words melted from Ashton’s lips as they curled into a million dollar grin.
“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.
The afternoon sun blazed down on our snowy mountain oasis. Our winter family retreat was coming to a close.
It had been a great time.
The days were filled with sledding and skiing and snowball-fights. In the evenings we assisted Mom with home-baked cookies and we gophered for Dad as he manned the outdoor grill. Each night we gathered in front of the fireplace as a family or games of trivia or charades.
Being the family prankster, I had enjoyed pulling tricks on each of my seven brothers and sisters. I even got a good one on Mom last night.
This year, however, I had been caught a little off-guard my family’s friendliness upon receiving my Christmas ‘treats’.
Thursday night, I was successful with placing plastic roaches in my oldest sister’s salad. On Friday night, I taped balloons to the back of the bedroom doors of my two youngest brothers so that when they opened the door completely the balloons meet with pins and burst.
Saturday night, my luck ran out. I placed my oldest brother’s hand in warm water while he was asleep. He woke up before he wet the bed.
After each and every trick, there were shouts and giggles.
But the strangest thing was that after each prank, that person just stopped dead still, looked me right in the eye, and said very calmly, “Pranks sure are a lot of fun. Aren’t they, Freddy?”
After hearing that same statement, said exactly the same way, for nine times during our winter weekend get-away… Well, let me tell you … It was a little nerve racking.
So I was just a little relieved as I took the youngest out for our final hide-and-go-seek as the rest of the family packed the station wagon and the van.
“98… 99… 100. Ready or Not. Here I come!”
I stepped away from the tree.
My forehead banged back against it.
I tried to step again… but my arms wouldn’t come loose from the tree trunk.
I was stuck.
Suddenly, I was surrounded by laughing and giggling. Two snowballs hit me on my left shoulder.
“Mom!!!!” I screamed.
“I’m right here,” she said as I got another snowball to my backsides.
There was another countdown. All at once the yelled together, “Pranks sure are a lot of fun. Aren’t they, Freddy?”
Often the stories I tell about events from my past.
Usually they are stories of something ‘stupid’ I have done. The episode for the story usually never started out as stupid, but the end result would speak for itself.
It is with great hesitation that I like to “toot my own horn”.
But like they say, “There is an exception for evey rule.”
“It’s illegal to search through my wallet without a warrant?”
“I’m your mother. I don’t need a warrant. Again, where did these come from?”
“I plead the Fifth.”
“I know the words that are going to eventually come out of your mouth will incriminate you. I am glad you were listening in Civics Class, but the Fifth doesn’t work on your mother. This house is not a democracy.”
“I still have constitutional rights.”
“You sure do. Right now you have the right to breath, collect your thoughts, and tell me thr truth. Where did these to twenties come from?
“Would you believe I found them?”
“If you want me to believe something, you probably shouldn’t start your sentence with ‘Would you believe…?’ Guess they didn’t mention that in Civics 101.”
Written for Writer’s Digest Flash Fiction February Challenges: Challenge #7 Today’s prompt is to write about a discovery.
It's All in Finding the Right Words 