For the mother of octuplets there is nothing more stressful than finding eight outfits exactly alike. Carrie wouldn’t have bothered if it weren’t for the contract with the Cosmo Kramer Agency which had all but totally financed her brood’s first decade of life. Sure there was a ton of public appearances and commercials, but how many dollars had they provided?
Carrie’s anxiety faded when she entered the store her friend Elise recommended. She smiled when she saw the stacks of hats before her. Finding eight matching hats would be no trouble this year.
“You want all eight?” the clerk asked.
For those that have answered the call for the Christmas themed flash I mentioned today is the day we begin. You can find the link to the challenge here:
It was the 8th day of December when Sydney finally got her long awaited engagement ring. Zac had to wait until everything was coated in ice to hatch his plan to replicate the scene from her favorite movie. When he called she was eager to respond.
“Are you going to tell me why we have to be out here?” Sydney asked.
Zac couldn’t believe she hadn’t clued in yet. He carefully led her out to the tree and bench where her surprise awaited.
“You know, there is something familiar about this. Oh . . .oh my!” She said when it came together.
Right now I’m in Belize on the backend of a 7 day mission trip, but when I return I will post the details of my Christmas Origin Story Fiction Challenge. All are invited.
Russ shook his head as he rolled slowly through the mounting water. On his trailer was a boat large enough to rescue many, but the queue of desperate souls seemed overwhelming. Where should he start? How could he leave anyone needing? Tears filled his eyes with the reality he understood.
I hope Sarah will forgive me for lifting this directly from her blog page, but I freely admit it is hers and want as many as possible to join in.
Harvey, Irma, Maria… These hurricanes have hit hard, leaving massive damage in their wakes. Here’s how you can help:
1. Write a piece of flash fiction in 50 words or less with the theme: Help
(This can be any sort of assistance, support, encouragement, or a story of someone or something that needs help. You do not need to use the prompt word. Be creative! It can be 50 words, 15 words…even a six-word story. Anything goes provided it is prose up to 50 words. It doesn’t have to be sunshine and rainbows but keep it PG and friendly.)
2. Add a new post on your blog with your flash fiction and the hashtag #Flash4Storms in the title
It was such a treacherous time that no one could be trusted. There was infiltrators from King Ebsen’s legions of Red Guard all throughout King Landry’s kingdom. Anyone without a solid and known bloodline was suspect. Trying to wage a war became more of a process of thinning out suspected malcontents and traitors. So much so that a mechanical device became a trusted tool.
The first dozen or so times the heavy gate was used for its purpose the effect was chilling. The process of removing those who fell victim was something etched into the minds of those tasked with the job, sure to remain on their minds forever.
The king knew this could not go on for long. The truth was that too many questions remained even after the sentence was imposed and there was no way to rectify the errors. King Ebsen was going to win their struggle and envelop King Landry’s pride and joy. Unless, King Landry thought, he could rig the gate just so.
Michael was not the greatest at being nonchalant. When he knew something he got this look on his face. Myra always said so. But Myra did not know what he did for a living. She wouldn’t know after today either, he’d make sure of that.
One of the three women talking to the manager was the assassin. The intelligence was light on this team. Too light for Michael’s taste.
He could feel the hair on his neck rise when the woman in the white sweater turned his way. Their was recognition and a dark smile. Yes, she was the one.
This was one of Professor Hollin’s favorite days. After a semester of teaching classic history to college students he got to entertain a class of six year olds as they toured his home city. Over a decade he had come to absolutely love this day. At first he declared he had no business doing such, but a little girl eight years before had changed his mind with her imaginative interpretation of his city’s storied architecture.
Now he looked forward to the six year old perspectives. Stopping in front of classic piece he asked his young charges what it was about.
“He is giving his friend a high five,” Mario suggested.
“No, he is petting his dinosaur,” Luisa chimed in.
“He is learning football, but doesn;’t know it means no hands,” Luigi added.
“I think the sun is in his eyes, like it is in mine,” Carolina said, her little hand failing to filter the bright sun on her face.
Hollins motioned for the youngster to come toward him out of the bright light. Yes, this was so much more fun than listening to the college class with their pompous, know-it-all attitudes.