Photo credit @ Sandra Crook from her travels down the French waterways.
A Sequel for Mr. Edwards
by T. Delaplain
It had been Mr. Edwards idea to help Renee write “his” sequel from the quant château in Provence. In fact the sequel had been entirely his idea. The promise had been extorted from her during a fierce re-write; the result of a tussle over the laptop and a tumble on the divan. Mr. Edwards, a minor character in her first novel had definitely become a distraction in the sequel. Her hand hestitated over the delete button.
“No Mr. Edwards, I do not see you as a seductive rogue, perhaps a stable lad in chapter 13? Never forget, Sir. Your place is on the page.”
Mr. Edwards can’t seem to stay where he is written or stay out of my flash fiction. A distraction indeed! If you’re curious about this literary terrorist you could read any of these flashes.
Of All the Gin Joints
Exit The Scoundrel
A Novel Romance
Please wander over to Friday Fictionners and read more 100 word tales.
Photo credit @Al Forbes
Held In Memory
by T. Delaplain
I slide into the backseat, lie on my back and imagine the moonlight. I’m assaulted with longing so intense that it can only be desire. The taste of your breath lingers still. I run my hand over the discolored upholstery. I can almost smell the vanilla ice cream mishap: kids and dogs and chaos.
My tears cloud the rear view mirror again. Continue Reading
Photo by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
The Way to My Heart
“Shut the damn door and take off those muddy boots,” I shouted over the kitchen chaos with an authority that had not been earned. The second batch of blackened biscuits lay crumbled next to my Momma’s recipe box and the bitter winter turnip stew was boiling over in defiance. I swiped a stray bang behind my ear and straightened the crisp apron your aunt had tucked into my hand as we’d left the chapel. You stomped the snow off your boots and tilted your Stetson, revealing a shy smile.
“Something smells mighty good, Wife.”
For more Friday Fictioneer’s tales go here.
Our lovely host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields will give you 100 words to round up your story. Rochelle’s third book was published last week. You can find all of her books here.
Photo credit @Roger Bultot
Reflection of Sin
My home world and all of my transgressions reflected in mockery through its enormous eye. It snapped its mandible in anticipation. I scrambled backwards trying to find my footing as my flesh tore against the gravel.
It was true that I had fallen far from grace: the son repeats the sins of the father. Continue Reading
Below is my work for Friday Fictioneers. I also wanted to share (brag about) my success in my first writing contest. I’m batting a 1000.
We’re thrilled to announce the winner of our Postcard From the Park Mini-MOLP writing contest.
Tracey Delaplain from Reno, Nevada has scooped the title with a brilliantly crafted piece that wove in a well researched slice of American history!
I won the Magic Oxygen mini literary prize for July with my flash fiction piece, “A Wild Idea“, a postcard from the park. You can see the announcement here where you can read about future challenges.
Photo Credit @Sandra Crook
Hell Bent For Leather
The sharp tang of leather made her stomach churn. She tossed the unfinished chaps aside, a gift no longer needed. Her son’s dusty Stetson and new saddle lay where the cowboys had thrown them. A dram of whiskey had been offered and accepted. Their duty done, they had backed out of the house hats in hands, heads bowed, murmuring condolences.
Her grief now complete, both of her men lay buried beneath cow shit and broken dreams.
“The chaps could be shortened”, she thought, “and I reckon the steers won’t feed themselves.”
The prequel to today’s story is Whiskey For My Men http://wp.me/p4oHp4-Kk
Cowboy up! Go to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields site and join Friday Fictioneers. She’ll give you 100 words to round-up your story.
Photo credit @Adam Ickes
A Better Plan
Wanting to disappear, I curled into myself and buried my head under the soft pillow. If I made myself small enough, I could hide from the last hours of my dad’s life.
You wrapped around me, wanting to shield me from my grief.
“No more suffering,” you said but I wasn’t sure who’s suffering you meant.
“It feels like I killed him,” I confessed.
“He begged me to push him off a dock and leave him. I couldn’t do it,” you whispered.
“That’s just stupid,” I lifted my head with a soft chuckle, “God, I’m going to miss that ridiculous old cowboy.”
In control until his last breath, my father died exactly 24 hours after he told the hospice nurse, “This will all be over by tomorrow.” The story is true and I’m so glad that my husband didn’t agree to my dad’s demand. Calling hospice was exactly the right thing to do. He had a good death with my sister and I at his bedside. I couldn’t have wished for a better ending to his story. And a day doesn’t go by that I don’t miss him and his tales and his sense of humor.
For more 100 word stories sail over to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields‘ website and follow the dock to Friday Fictionners. (Oops, I guess it’s a bridge and not a dock.)
Copyright – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
For Every Season
I traced a frozen heart on the glass.
No longer were your initials available to interlace with mine.
The storms and passion of our verdant spring had been replaced with a summer of striving, of building and succeeding. Continue Reading