Friday Fictioneers for October 20th, 2023

For our writing pleasure we have been enjoined to post by her purple-for-passion (or is it the other way ‘round?), Madam Wisoff-Fields and the debonair lady, Liz Young. They have joined forces to summon our best literary skills of micro-fiction story telling (and editing down).

Click on Liz’s photo prompt to test the waters at Rochelle’s blog. There, you will find everything you need to rock a mini plot for the hashtag Friday Fictioneers game of writer-ship (#FF).

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

Genre: Poetic Fiction
Title: Anytime Checkout
Word Count: 100 (Language Warning)

Lying hidden in the tall grass, we kept each other warm. I started to kiss her, but she pushed me back and whispered, “What the fuck is that?

I turned to see several lights hovering.

“Don’t move!” She pulled me down, “Be quiet. We need to get out of here.”

The lights passed. We crawled, then ran for several minutes.

I asked, “Who is looking for us and why?”

“My ex and his tribe. If they find me, they will kill us both. I was a member of his cult. They never allow anyone to leave—at least not alive.”

Look both ways when the terrain and vegetation permit.
Mind the gaps and the lights when Journey sings of the city by the bay.

 

Click on the Splendor in the Grass pic for more stories.

 

These folks are in their 70’s now, but then so am I.

 

Oh, and this book:

Click on the cover to get yours from Amazon.

Sammi’s Weekender #333 (Whisper)

Click on graphic for Sammi’s page and more writings.

The soldier whispered
into the radio,

we’re surrounded.
need help, now.
target on my coords.

She heard the shell
coming,
but not the explosion.

Look both ways in combat. Mind the gaps, but war is war.
Take many of them with you when you go.

 

Capt. Nargis Kabiri, commander of Alpha Battery, 1st Battalion, 9th Field Artillery Regiment, 3rd Infantry Division Artillery. She is the first female field artillery commander for the 3rd Infantry Division (US Army).

Friday Fictioneers for October 13th, 2023

My last #FF story was March 31st. I stopped for April to do NaPoWriMo. The first of May gifted me my first case of Covid. In June a began the task (after years of self-promises) of organizing poems for a book. That tedious task took months and remains incomplete as of today. However, after many YouTube videos and extensive reading/learning, I have recently gone “live” with my self-published (KDP) book.

Click on my book cover for the Amazon page.

For October’s Friday-the-thirteenth, Rochelle and Rowena have teamed up with a photo prompt that led me to wonder how profitable smuggling must be.

Click on Rowena’s pic for Rochelle’s blog page.

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Rowena Curtin

Genre: Fiction
Title :Short Term Lease
Word Count: 100

He looked at the building and our surroundings. Then said, “That building stands out, don’t you think? Look around. We’d be hiding in plain sight. This won’t work.”

I said, “Look, we’ve been operating a legit book and art sales business here for years. It is great cover. Just keep your contraband in the basement with books and art on the main floor. When you transport to the boat, cover everything. Keep the business name up. Plain sight doing the same thing is not suspicious.

“How much?”

“Two-hundred K a month. First and last in advance. No security deposit required.”

Look both ways at the loading docks.
Mind the gaps, stay dry, keep hydrated,
and mind your own business.

Click here to read more adventures in Friday Fictioneering.

Click on this for a Speed Kills Travolta movie trailer, just to set the mood.

Slowly It Happens

While I have not officially “launched” my book, Any Way the Wind Blows, it is available on Amazon in paperback or as an e-book. It’s even on Kindle Unlimited.

Click the cover for the Amazon e-book page.

So, my excuse for not blogging or playing is pretty much gone for now.

As for this post,

Click graphic for Sammi’s post page and other ideal poems and/or prose.

Instead of saying perfect
when I tell you my phone number
or I say that I’ve not eaten
anything
since before midnight,

You could say, ideal!

Ya see?
It’s a mental image thingy.
Ideally, true perfection is illusive
while ideal could be any seven numbers
following my area code.

Look both ways and mind the gaps when you choose your words.

Sammi’s Weekender #328 (Hallmark)

Click on the graphic for Sammi's blog and more 64-word somethings.
Click on the graphic for Sammi’s blog and more 64-word wonders.

My hallmark was silence for four months. Post NaPoWriMo recovery and COVID, then COVID recovery, then a week-long road trip. Then months working on the book. I decided no blogging until the book was almost ready to hit publish. It is. My editor has the book. We’ll see.

So here I am. Sammi’s weekender first, then maybe Friday Fictioneers this week. Reciprocation takes time.

 

NaPoWriMo 2023 (Day 29)

Today, I was to cook up a poem in two parts. The recipe was supposed to focus on food or a meal. Part of the poem was to season the food as a person, and I was to give it some spoken dialogue.

Boiled versus Fried

  1. First this:

Newlyweds were we,
having moved to above her garage
from over on Waverly Way.

She fixed supper for us,
and I first met up with boiled fucking
okra, AKA, slimy green snot.

It was nineteen hundred and sixty-six;
we were 19; something, like this, well folks,
you just never forget, or forgive.

I’m certain I heard the grassy flavored
seed pods of gumbo thickener sing
eat me raw, you city slicker. We be worldwide.
I wanted to puke. I could’ve just died.
Embarrassed, I mannered-up and sighed.
And I swallowed the snotty lady’s fingers.

Little evil green monsters, till one day…

  1. Then this happened…

A crunchy cousin, nicely coated,
in some restaurant, called theirselves fried okra
provided texture to my tale and it was,
step back, Jack, we gunna treat ya well.

Old John Henry called it all “Okree,”
like old aunty of the Mallow family
with a funny first name
and John seemed to fuss over the food
in a good way, but I passed on boiled,
stewed, raw, or wrinkled. Fried
is the only okra for this damn Yankee.

Look both ways and learn to try, but texture counts.
Mind the gaps, but India grows most okra and now has the most people (not China),
and they must eat a lot of okra over there.

 

Click the button for more NaPo magic.

 

Fried okra.

 

NaPoWriMo 2023 (Day 28)

It is Yolonda’s birthday. To celebrate with NaPo, I am to write an index poem (me neither). I could use language from any index or invent one. It is kind of an index to parts of her life.

Yo’s Index (chronological)

Arrival in Cisco, 47; Commencement into the World, 64; Abilene Discovery 65; Blissfulness, 66; PA pronouns after laughing in the Chapel, 66; Travels of Ankara, Turkey, 67; War Hymns, Chig-gar-roo-gar-rems, Hullabaloos, Caneck! Caneck! and au revoir Air Force, 68; Hello Number One, 71; Woodville bounce-back, 72; O-1 with you (she’s back), 72; here/there/everywhere, 73; Hello Cowtown, 74; Welcome two to the gene pool, 74; Redneck Mothers, 75; Happy alert Thursday, 76; How much more of this?, 77; She was number three to stroke back Mother’s Day, 78; Goodbye Stranger, 79; Island fever, 80-82; Missed the bus, 83; Rabbit fever, 84; Rancho Swimming, 83-95; Goodbye friends, 86; Ride the Fiesta, 86-92; Shadows of darkness; 90-97; All Hell breaks loose, 96; Heaven sent, 99-01; Hell sent, 02-07; Emerald water/white sand, 12; The three mountains and it’s 50 as we, 15-17; Near Austin City Limits, 18-23.

Look both ways.
It all boils down to a book of life, which requires an index.
Mind the gaps and always remember names and places.
“Okay, but is it a poem?”

 

Click here to see the pure f-ing magic.

 

NaPoWriMo 2023 (Day 27)

Today I was prompted to write a poem titled “The (blank) of (blank).” The first blank was to be a kind of plant or animal, the second blank an abstract noun.

The poem was to have at least one simile that plays on double meanings or otherwise doesn’t make “sense,” and describe things or beings from very different times or places as co-existing in the same space.

The Dove of Independence,
The Dove of Resistance

Are you Texan, Mexican, Mourning
or just a dove? Like a pigeon, a bird,
or an easy mark?

A Vlad target in late fall, even some of
the white wing clan; are you game
on those special occasions?

Does the cooing help you or me
make peace from your innocuous innocence
or your purity? Do you pacify or fight on?

Maybe a little less like white wing
and more like Blackhawk to win the war.
Can we deal with that winning pair?

Love conquers all, but right now
they need some hard ass, bald eagle, boom-boom.
May art like Palance be their winning war dance.

Or can VZ in the UKry find a winning way,
and stand up with humor to the wounded bear.
There’s no independence without resistance.

Look both ways at peace through conflict.
Mind the gaps but win the damn war.

Click on the meme for the NaPo page and more poetry.

Maybe I was a bit heavy with this prompt, but here is the story of Blackhawk and the white winged dove.

 

NaPoWriMo 2023 (Day 25)

Today I was prompted to compose a love poem with three required aspects. It must name at least one flower (the Texas state flower is the bluebonnet, and they love them), contain one parenthetical statement, and have some
unusual line (like this)
breaks.

This Love

This love of ours
like bluebonnets flower
in Spring flashing brilliance
of blue, purple, white, red,
and like it knew,
maroon (if you look close)
in April then waning to green
by May. Yet,

This love of ours
thrives with
life—stronger after hard
wet Winter passes. The
flower gone
the plant lives like
our love. Fruitful.

Reliable. Dependable. This love of ours, like no
other’s (spreading, seen, felt)
cannot be trampled or destroyed (though some have tried).

Look both ways, forgive but do not forget,
let love be seen with eyes of envy.
Mind the gaps,
but don’t let them be more than
a seam on a garment, a patch in a road, or a lone weed in a glorious garden.

 

Photo by me.

 

Click this button for the NaPo page and more free poems.

NaPoWriMo 2023 (Day 24)

One week to go. Then poetry month and the NaPo challenge conclude.

Today we are to write a poetic review of something that isn’t normally reviewed. Define normal. Define review. I did a little rabbit hole hunting for things that should not be, but are reviewed. One guy reviewed life, and I thought it was great. I wrote a humorous epistolary poem.

Dear God,

I’ve tested this free soul
every day of my long life (thank you).
I understand this review
will be kept confidential.

First, my old soul has not aged well.
Mold and fungus are all over it.
What is it supposed to do again?
It seems to be useless like my appendix,
wisdom teeth, and nipples.
It’s just easier to remove.

How can I write a QA review
if no one knows what it is
supposed to do? One lady said that you
use it to keep score. Another said,
“you’ll find out soon enough.”
I felt threatened but don’t know why.

When I took it out, I noticed
feeling lighter with less guilt.
Is that normal for a soulless man?
I don’t see this part lasting
for the full length of eternity.

I’ve lost the receipt, the warranty,
maintenance records, and instructions.
Satan low balled me then refused to buy it.
The local body shop won’t touch it.

To be honest, this OEM soul
seems mighty worn out considering
it will not move and does absolutely nothing.
And what about soul music
and soul food? Is there more than
one kind, or is it a lot number thing?

Basically, my overall review and feedback
is that if this thing has a purpose,
please advise, and I will test accordingly.
Otherwise, I’m sure your QA department
can provide further information.

Sincerely,

Bill

Look both ways when reading reviews.
At the extremes, they’re often emotional nonsense.
Mind the gaps when someone tries to explain useless parts.

 

Click on the NaPo 2023 button to see the challenge and to read more poems (not all are on prompt).