Friday, May 18, 2018

His Shoes - (Friday Fictioneers)

Image may contain: shoes, plant and outdoor
His Shoes
"You don’t know a person until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes.” My dad used to say.  I would look down at his shoes, with the broken zipper that use to be snug around his ankles and the duct tape barely holding his old worn boots together. He should have gotten rid of them long ago, but it showed what kind of man he is.
He was.
Stubborn. Determined. Selfless. Hard working.
I don’t have to wear his shoes for a mile to know what kind of person he was. I just have to look at them and know.

(100 word count)

Sunday, April 13, 2014


It has been since last year when I posted a Sunday Photo Fiction. I'm trying to dust off my words and put them to good use. What better way to do this, than the Sunday Photo Fiction. This is flash fiction written around 100 - 200 words around a weekly photo prompt. If you would love to join the Sunday Photo Fiction or read amazing stories by amazing authors, go here. I would love comments and constructive critiques. Thank you so much for stopping by.

     For many miles, my family traveled in a caravan through the flat lands of Kansas into the rolling hills of Missouri, with scenery broken up into autumn fields and brightly colored trees.

After a break for lunch, we piled back into our vehicles. I rode along with my brother Richard, instead of the leading van crammed full with our active family.  We followed along for miles through farms dotted with cattle, rattled across stone bridges and alongside golden fields.

After a few hours on the road, the lead vehicle began to slow down – leading us to believe that they were busy taking in the scenery.  They continued their slow crawl until it finally came to rest in the middle of the road.

“Why are they stopping?” I asked, afraid that we’d be smacked from behind if they don’t start moving. Richard glanced in the rearview mirror with the same worry. But it just sat there ahead of us. Unmoving.

Richard blared on the horn to get their attention, but the vehicle continued to sit idle.

“Maybe their van broke down?” I asked.
“We’ll see.” Richard maneuvered our vehicle to the side of the road, setting up the hazards for those that might come across us, “Wait here.”
He got out and walked up to the vehicle. When he got there, he appeared confused. He yanked open the driver’s door, looking in.
A feeling of uneasiness settled over me. I got out to join him.
“Well? What’s the hold up?” I asked just as Richard backed out of the driver’s side door. His face was ashen, eyes clouded with confusion. “What is it?” I asked.
“They’re gone.”
“What?” I brushed past him, and looked into the vehicle.

Every seat was empty. The seatbelts were still clasped as if they were holding their passengers. The only sign of life was the radio blaring to an empty van.

 Words: 316

     This is from a full story I wrote last year. I wanted to use it for the photo prompt, so I tried cutting it down, but could only get it to 316 words without losing too much of the story. 
     This story is actually based on real events.  My family had some guests from out of town and they wanted to see some of the countryside. I rode with my brother as we followed the lead vehicle with our dad and his guests. We traveled on dirt roads, past lovely landscape and bridges and all the while, our Dad kept slowing down and stopping in the middle of the road to comment on some points of interest. It got annoying and my brother and I were afraid of getting rear-ended. After many stops, my imagination kicked in - and I made my family in the lead vehicle - "disappear". ;)

Monday, November 25, 2013

The Messenger - Sunday Photo Fiction

This is my first Sunday Photo Fiction post and I love having an excuse to keep writing. Sunday Photo Fiction is a flash fiction written around 100 - 200 words around a weekly photo prompt. I would love comments and constructive critiques. Thank you so much for stopping by and if you would love to join the Sunday Photo Fiction or read other amazing stories, go here.

“Are they messenger pigeons?”

I glanced at my young niece, Abby, then up at the line of fat pigeons sitting on the edge of the fencing. “Not these pigeons, honey.” I remarked, “Their only job is making messes.”

Abby cocked her head, studying one of the pigeons that took the initiative to fly to a nearby tree. The bird was different from the others. Oddly, it appeared to be listening to our conversation.

“Mama said pigeons carried messages from one person to another.” Abby’s gaze never leaving the pigeon, “and she said she was going to send me a message.”

I thought of my late sister and worried about the promise given to her only child. “Maybe she is super busy in Heaven with so many people to see.”

Just then the pigeon flew down from the tree and landed on the bench beside Abby. The little bird looked up expectantly and dropped a small cylinder case from its claw, squawked and flew away.

Abby picked it up and pulled a slip of paper from the case – and read:

“Dearest Abby, I made it to heaven and it is beautiful. Love always, Mama.”

Thursday, November 14, 2013


It's Friday Fictioneer time! I always look forward to this day, to exercise my brain and create a story with only 100 words or less. This time I made it to 97 words. (Horray!) I want to thank Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting the Friday Fictioneers. Thank you! I would love any comments and helpful critiques are welcomed!

The cart connected hard against the stone ramp, jarring the bolts of fabrics and potteries that filled it. My mule tossed his head and stood stubbornly, refusing to move.

“I can’t be late” I muttered, grasping the lead from my mule, urging to hurry so I wouldn’t lose my preferred spot in the market square…

“Matt, are you alright?”

I looked up into Angie’s concerned face, then back to the empty alleyway. I clutched the camera strap tightly in my hand.

“Yeah,” I said, looking down at the ancient grey stone, “I just had a déjà vu.”

(Word count: 97)

This story actually came from personal experiences. I had a few dreams of places I have never been, doing things that I have never done - yet it felt so familiar to me - then I would wake up in the middle of a deja vu. When I saw the stone floor in the picture, it reminded me of the stones in one of my deja vu dreams. Hence, my story. :)

Thursday, November 7, 2013


All I can say is wow! I am surprised that I was able to come up with something for this very interesting photo prompt. I had the story up to 121 words, but could only get it down to 101 without changing the flow of the story itself. Here is my offering for this week's Friday Fictioneer. I would love constructive criticism and comments. Thank you!

The stoic stone face stared out over city hall, leaving Georgie gawking slack-jawed at it as if in a staring contest.

“What are you doing?” his older sister, Amanda, demanded.  She was perturbed that her mother forced her to fetch her wayward sibling.

“He blinked!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with surprise.

“What?” Amanda looked up and saw the stone head staring blankly ahead. “It’s a statue, dumb-dumb! Don’t you know what statues are?!”

She grabbed her little brother’s hand, dragging him inside as he continued to howl, “He did blink, Amanda, he did!!”

The statue continued to stare – and smiled.