Ted Strutz contributed a photo of shoes for this week’s #FF prompt. As she does each week, the wonderful water lady in the purple lane, Rochelle, has challenged us to write a micro-fiction story (≤100 words) and to post the same among the squares of honor.
To join us, click on Ted’s pic and walk right on over to Madam’s blog page to get all laced up on the path to a successful Friday Fictioneers career. The pay ain’t great but the benefits are awesome.
Genre: Norden Fiction
Title: Barefoot Rhapsody
Word Count: 100
***
Her mother said, “It’s time. Get your shoes on. Let’s go so you can sing them to tears.”
Angelina replied, “I’ll sing for America, Mama—mostly for Simon. I sing barefoot.
“What if you step on a nail? Have you had your tetanus shot?”
“Singing barefoot is what I do. It promotes singing, and people love it. So, please; no shoes.
Father, help me.”
Father smiles. “Angel, this is Norway. It’s January. Wear the boots. Before you take the stage, remove your socks and boots. We will be there to hear you make them cry.”
The angel wore the boots.
***
Look both ways and dress appropriately.
Mind the gaps and listen to the lady sing.
***
Singers who also often sang barefoot include Linda Ronstadt, Patti LaBelle, Bjork, Deana Carter, Kelly Clarkson, Joss Stone, Shakira, Jack Johnson, Jason Mraz, Colbie Calliat, Jewel, Krist Novoselic, Carly Simon (often but not always). If this Angelina Jordan video doesn’t make you feel something, put your shoes on and leave.
Click on the lovely Linda to barefoot on over to the links to read more stories prompted by the photo.
For a December first kickoff, Fleur Lind and the sensational Rochelle, Mistress of the Friday Fictioneers Realm, joined forces in a flowerily display of automotive genius.
Click on the pic to taxi over to Madam R’s blog page for instructions on the care and feeding of planted stories of 100 words or fewer.
Title: Advertising Inspiration
Genre: Fire Sky Fiction
Words: 100
***
It was all Christmassy in C-City.
I said, “Hey, Dewey. Let’s tow that old flatbed truck to your boutique and park it outside. You can put your potted plants on it and under the open hood. Maybe even displays or dressed mannequins in or on it. A Santa too, maybe?”
“It is not a boutique, Dad. Kind of, but not really. I don’t know if the city will allow it, but I can ask. It’s a great idea. How did you think of it?”
“When I woke up last Wednesday morning, it just came to me. Pure freakin’ magic. Right?”
***
Look both ways for ideas and plants.
Mind the gaps, steal like an artist, and bend the rules.
Click on Julie’s (Dewey to me) plants to read more aromatic #FF stories.
Photo courtesy of Fire Sky Arts, Colorado City, Texas
This was a complex prompt, so it is best to go to the dVerse page and read about Lisa’s Time Machine Bucket List: TMBL and the subsequent prompt with options.
I think I sort of did Option 1, but this comes from my heart. I know Lisa said ten and cull out, but I can’t do that. I focused on both the stars and the venues because, seriously, I would try to go.
Coming Around Again
Forty-five (or more)
albums later, fifty years
of water under two bridges,
if we could go back.
Back to when you opened up
to your kind, to your fans,
and friends and family,
your folks, without
a care or anxiety
for either of us.
Long over now except for
the forever connection
of Ben and Sally; I still
love to hear you and James
sing duets and harmonies.
Save me seats so I can go back;
back with my beloveds
with you to concerts like:
Live from Martha’s Vineyard,
or from Grand Central,
or from aboard the QM 2.
Can we meet at the Eagles’
Sad Café? It’s been fifty years
Carly. What do ya say?
Listen,
mock, yeah,
ing, yeah—let’s sing!
Look both ways, but when the more is in the past,
we can wish for times to go back to for just a brief concert to visit,
to sit and listen, to applaud, perchance to take in a toke.
Mind the gaps until time travel is perfected. Our goals are very specific.
We were to write a flash fiction story in exactly 144 words including a line from the poem, by Rita Dove called “November for Beginners.” The chosen line was “Snow would be the easy way out.” See the Poets Pub here. And other works of flash prose here.
I grew up expecting snow every winter. Sometimes crunchy—always white until later when it would die as wet, ugly, slush. I loved going outside and experiencing feelings that I only felt when I walked on a cold windless night in fresh snow.
It was always coming, and I knew that snow would be the easy way out—out of my life’s tiring and tedious problems (at least for now), as my insecurities about myself were silently made insignificant. It could never be more than one night at a time before the world’s reality marred snow’s existence and mine.
The snow didn’t know or care about my problems. I was welcome to be as I was with snow. While it made my world go silent, it seemed to hear me and to know what I needed without ever saying a word. We had secrets.
I suppose this is interior monologue rather than a story, but it works for me.
Ease your search for Sammi’s page and more excellent 52, pickup pieces by clicking on this graphic.
The Maelstrom of Combat
Hunt and kill missions,
search and destroy—S&D,
sick and disgusting.
If it’s them and dead, it’s VC.
Body counts win wars.
Ask GM-azon.
Euphemistic defense profits for all,
but not the warrior, the solder,
dead and maimed
they suffer, kid-killers—all,
they hate and love battle.
Combat. Killing.
I die. Why?
Look both ways, toward the light and the dark.
Mind the gaps for hints of denial.
It is yours to reason why.
To begin the month of November in the crazy twenties of the twenty-first century, two favorites of Friday Fictioneers finest, Mistress Rochelle and “Dalectable” Dale, have inspired us with a two-way including Dale’s mysterious photo and Rochelle’s excellent watercolor painting of Dale’s wonderful shot. Wowzer! Ya gotta get in on this, right?
I’ve written of mysteries behind the green door before.
Click on Dale’s fun, green-door photo to open another portal to Rochelle’s blog page for this phenomenal adventure. While there, your thoughts can be expanded by her patent windows to purple wisdom.
Genre: Musical Parody
Title: Play Behind the Green Door
Word Count: 100
***
We knocked on the Green Door. A woman from Behind yelled, “What?
Marilyn said, “The Chambers to audition.”
“You experienced?”
I was indignant.
“We’re stars (Marilyn giggled). We audition at midnight for Jim and Artie Mitchell.”
She opened the door, “You’re old. Can you do longtime money shots?”
Marilyn dropped her coat and white dress. “Bitch, let us Behind the Green Door now or I’ll stuff these six-inch stilettos in every hole you got.”
The movie is scheduled for release New Year’s Eve with Marilyn and some dude named Johnnie Large in leading roles. I was hired as art director.
***
Look both ways but infer whatever you want.
Mind the gaps for the best porn,
but you must know what goes on behind the green door.
***
Click on the movie poster for a ticket to more 100 (or fewer) word wonders.
***
This is an 80’s, Shakin’ Stevens, version of the #1 song from 1956 , “Behind the Green Door” which replaced Elvis Presley’s “Love Me Tender.” So many have never heard of the tune, the movie, the books, and now Dale’s pic.
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