‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ Week #35 Entry Part 6) by MarkBierman@mbiermanauthor#IARTG #WritingPrompts #FlashFiction #WritingCommunity

HELLO EVERYONE AND WELCOME TO AUTHOR SUZANNE BURKE’S “FICTION IN A FLASH CHALLENGE!” EACH WEEK SHE FEATURES AN IMAGE AND INVITES EVERYONE TO WRITE A FLASH FICTION, OR NON-FICTION, PIECE INSPIRED BY THAT IMAGE IN ANY FORMAT AND GENRE OF THEIR CHOOSING.  MAXIMUM WORD COUNT: 750 WORDS. IN ADDITION TO RUNNING A WONDERFUL BLOG, SUZANNE HAS WRITTEN MANY EXCITING BOOKS. PLEASE A HAVE A LOOK AT HER SITE: WECOME TO THE WORLD OF SUZANNE BURKE

Here is my contribution to this week’s prompt. Enjoy!

“Oh Sheila, could this night get any better? I mean, you, me, just the crickets.”

“Oh, yes, Paul . . . it’s wonderful. There’s really no where else I’d rather be.”

“There’s something intoxicating about spending a night under the stars with a beautiful woman. Do you know that the constellation, Cygnus the Swan, is above our heads right now? Go ahead, look! No not at me. Look up, my dear. Do you see it? Yes, that’s it. See the splendor of it all? You want to know something, and it’s the truth.”

“What? What is it?”

“Keep looking up. I mean really take it all in.”

“I’m looking, and yes, it’s heavenly—”

“Just like you, my Sweet. Now I have something for you.”

“Really! What is it! Shall I close my eyes?”

“If you’d like. Yes, and hold out your hands, too. I love your radiant smile, by the way. Here it is. Okay, now open them.”

 “A mirror?”

“Yes, I want you to look at it, and then up again at the Swan. No, not at me, the Swan. Not that I mind the love in your eyes. No, Sheila, look up and compare. Why do you look so disappointed?”

“I don’t understand, that’s all.”

“Stop looking at me that way. No, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I just wanted you to see that this constellation is just an ugly duckling, compared to you.”

“Oh, I see . . . of course, thank you, Paul.”

“I have a poem that I wrote for you. It’s about our love and this is the perfect night to read it. Here it goes. She is the light of my—”

“Stop!”

“What?”

“Please, Paul . . . I-I can’t do this anymore!”

“What do you mean? I planned this whole evening! Even made your favorite, Caprese salad, which is disgusting, by the way. Are you saying we’re through?”

“Just, turn away for a moment. Would you please, I cannot look at you, any longer. I’m so sorry, but you need to fix it.”

“Fix what?! I thought you said I was perfect!”

“No fix it! Pull it out!”

“Sheila! You are so devilish! But I cannot do that, this is a public park. There are still families about.”

“No! Not that! Pull out that ghastly nose hair that’s been waving at me all night.”

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‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge 2021.’ #30 Entry Part 2) by Mark Bierman @mark_bierman1 #IARTG #WritingCommunity #WritingPrompts #FlashFiction

Hello, welcome to my take on Author Suzanne Burke’s weekly ‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge.’

Writer’s are challenged to come up with a short story based on a photo provided. The maximum word count is 750.

I am grateful to Suzanne for provoding this challenge and allowing us to use her blog to showcase our writing. Please click on this link to view Suzanne’s wonderful blog and see the works of other authors. Welcome to the World of Suzanne Burke.

Here is this week’s photo prompt:

“Dad! Did you see that? Daaad!”

“Ouch! Why’d you rip my headphones out for? I was just getting into a marketing podcast about nose hair trimmers.”

“Huh? Wha-? Look out the window! Doesn’t it look like some place we watched on that Area 51 documentary last week? Don’t make that face, either.”

“What face ? Oh Chad, you have a wonderful imagination but I’m afraid it gets the best of you at times. Here, let me see . . . oh, that is interesting.”

“What? You see them too, don’t you? You see them! Runways and small, too small, buildings that must go underground! I mean, one of them looks like the size of a porta potty. What would you do with that?”

“Ummm . . . Chad. Firstly, need I remind you that even though we are flying low because of the heavy clouds, we are still thousands of feet up. Secondly, you’ve spent enough time at summer camp to know what porta potties are for.”

“Look! They’re loading something from the back of a truck! It’s an ali—”

“Side of beef. Chad, that’s an abattoir, where they, uh, you, know. You like hamburgers, don’t you?”

“Eeewwww. . . I used to. Please stop slicing your finger across your throat. It’s not that, Dad. Cows don’t have arms . . . biology 101. Geez, how do you ‘adult’.”

“Nope, those are freezer trucks, and they are taking the beef to market. You see those smaller packages coming out of that other building? Those are probably steaks, hamburger, and some other yummy things.”

“Uh, Chad, you don’t look so well. What’s wrong?”

“You mean, that they sell alien meat in the stores pretending that it’s beef? I need to use the restroom.”

“Uh, that’s not what I meant. Okay, hold on, I’m moving my legs so you can get out.”

Chad’s father watched his son race to the restroom. He shook his head and imagined his brand-new Napoleon Rogue BBQ being relegated to grilling vegetables only . . . 70500 BTU’s wasted on asparagus and mushrooms. He slid over to the window for a final peak and rubbed his eyes. Had that ‘side of beef’ just waved up at him?  

‘Fiction In A Flash Challenge’ Week #15 #IARTG #ASMSG @pursoot #WritingCommunity #fiction

Happy Sunday! Here is my take on talented Author Suzanne Burkes’ weekly Fiction In a Flash Challenge.  Authors are invited to write a short story about the photo shown. Please click on the above link to go to her blog site. Thank you so much, Suzanne for hosting this regular challenge!

Rosemary’s Treasure

“Grandma, are you sure you want to go up there? They’re in bad shape, and your hip.”

“Oh, pish posh,” Rosemary waved dismissively. “Should have done this years ago and those were built when quality counted.”

“That was seventy-seven years ago. This place has been abandoned for—”

“Twenty years, other than some vandalism, the bones are solid.”

“Maybe, but yours aren’t. Please, just let me have a look. The third floorboard from the back wall of the closet, right?”

Rosemary patted Emily’s hand. “I need to do this myself, with a bit of help from you.”

Emily wiped a tear and hugged her grandmother. “I understand. You were eight and you’ve waited this long. It was your only hope. All these years . . . ” Her grief soaked the purple shawl.

“Shh . . . I’ve made my peace. This must be done before I see him again. I pray God will allow it in Heaven. Father has the other half, that’s why they never found it on him.”

Rosemary’s eyes stung but she must show restraint, be the brave girl that her father had said she was just before he left for the Great War. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

“Yes, I’m sorry.” Emily broke her embrace and took the tissue from Rosemary.

“But you must let me check each tread before you step on it and let me guide you. Those are my rules, I’m sorry. I love you too much to lose you.”

Rosemary nodded. “Agreed.”

They moved ahead, arm in arm, with Emily sweeping away the debris with her foot to clear a path. At the base of the stairs, she tested the railing and was satisfied.

“You see, built to last. The stairs will be the same, though the third step might creak. I learned to avoid that one when I’d sneak downstairs after bedtime to grab an extra cookie.” She pointed to the room they’d just left. “My parents would be sitting in their chairs, Mother with her nose in a book, while Father would be asleep. I never got caught, but sometimes I think Mother knew.” Rosemary smiled.

The stairs proved to be every bit as resilient as promised, but every tread protested the disturbance.

The hideous orange and white floral-patterned linoleum flooring installed by the last tenants had chunks missing and revealed the hardwood underneath. Decay wasn’t always bad.

Emily gingerly walked her grandmother across the tripping hazard to the first room on the left. Time had left only a thick layer of dust, cobwebs, and a musty smell in the barren room.

“Hmmm . . . used to be a lot bigger,” Rosemary said. She blamed her watering eyes on the dust and mold. “I loved this room, but after Father was gone, well, we had to move.”

She sighed deeply and shuffled towards the tiny closet. Emily’s hand went to grab her arm, but she brushed it off. “I’m good for now, but I’ll need you to help me kneel.”

The old woman reached the closet and Emily helped her to her knees.

Rosemary struggled to remove the floorboard and Emily offered to help.

“No! I must do this!” Her face softened and her tears splattered into the floor dust. “I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t mean to snap. This arthritis is making it hard. Did they nail it down?”

After what seemed an eternity, the board yielded, and was hoisted with a collectively  held breath. Would it still be there?

Emily handed over the flashlight. The small beam illuminated only cobwebs and dirt. Rosemary dug frantically to clear them, and the light reflected off a silver object lying in between the floor joists.

Rosemary picked up the necklace with shaky hands. Emily gasped, for there it was, the legendary object that she’d heard about since early childhood.

A heart, with one half missing, the other half perhaps lay on a faraway battlefield.

Rosemary clutched the jewelry to her heart, and then wept loudly. Emily rushed to her side and tried to console her grandmother through her own tears.

It took several moments to recover, and Rosemary showed her the inscription in the heart. Because of the shape and the missing piece, it read, ALW TOGE . . . Always Together.

“Oh Grandma, is that true? Do you really believe that?”

“Yes, Emily, all of my life I knew he was there, and soon I will get to see him again and this heart will be whole.”