Each week Allistair Forbes tosses us a bone in the form of a photo prompt and allots us roughly two hundred words to make a story. I enjoy this type of challenge immensely and celebrate my second week back in the fold.
There was countless hours studying mathematics, calculating physics answers, statics classes to make sure the structures were sound, all in all over a quarter million dollars worth of investment in the mind of the engineer assigned to build the suspended tram system.
From an engineering standpoint the system was perfectly sound. Everything worked exactly as designed, transporting the happy skiers up and down the mountain as they desired. That was until the flash ice storm of April 1, 2016. Even a Magna Cum Laude mechanical engineer could not design a system to deal with a five inch coating of ice on every surface. The complicating factor was that it came during the peak usage time of the day, stranding many visitors to the slopes.
Several calls to the engineer found only his voicemail, which meant that the problem rolled back to the director of operations, Sammy Cale. Sammy was a sixty-two year old career Marine sergeant in his eighth winter on McIntosh Peak. His no-nonsense style was evident as he tried to direct his team to deal with this crisis. The weather forecast offered no hope as the temperature wasn’t expected to rise above freezing for another twenty hours.
“What kind of Marine experience can you bring to this train wreck?” his second in command asked.
“Looks like an Air Force problem to me,” Sammy grinned as he chomped down on his cigar.
Carlie held her breath, willing Braden to stop. To cut those mean and hateful words out of his mouth that seemed to spew uncontrolled in her direction. They were supposed to be the exception, the couple that weathered all storms, the perfect match. At least that is what Facebook told her every time she used one of those online match maker quizzes. She believed them, not necessarily due to their scientific nature, but because they agreed with what she felt in her heart.
Braden was the handsomest boy in school. He treated her like she thought a girl was supposed ot be treated, with respect and dignity, not like an attachment or possession. She squeezed her eyes shut wanting all this to be just a troubling dream, like the ones she faced on many nights in her fractured home. The endless shouting from one end of her home to the other as her parent’s marriage slowly and steadily crumbled infected her usually happy heart such that peaceful, sleep filled nights were now a strange phenomenon.
She could sense his words had stopped, so she cracked her eyelids a bit. But there was no one there. She looked in all directions, but Braden seemed to have been enveloped into the ether. Was their fight real or had she imagined it? She had to know, so she ran toward the cafeteria at the high school, frantically looking for him. She ignored a set of three friends that greeted her as she ran past, a wild look in her eyes. She had to find Braden, had to know if he had said those words.
Her answer came like a linebacker flattening a quarterback. When she entered the main hall to the upstairs foyer she found Braden in a lip lock with Caden Smart, a new transfer student from California. This surfer girl, with her long tan legs and sun-bleached hair had taken her Braden away.
Letters to Euturpe is a weekly blog invitational hosted by tuckedintoacorner. In this weekly event, you’ll be prompted to write poetry or a piece of flash fiction inspired by a song lyric (or in some cases the full song).
Another week is hurtling toward the end of the workweek and Friday Fictioneers is riding the wave!
Everywhere has a hierarchy, even in birddom. Luscius did not understand this. To him a wire was a wire, a place to light when his young untested wings began to fail him. But the task was more taxing than he knew, to his bitter demise.
Four tries it took to gain a place on the top wire. But then the adults shooed him away. He needed twice as many on wire two, but it was also declared off limits. Lucicus’ little wings were quickly giving up the fight. The third wire held his friends, but Luscius had no more energy.
Need a primer to get your writing going? Then you might want to look for the Monday Finish the Story prompt. Barbara Beacham gives you a photo and opening sentence to kick off the fun. Here is my rendition.
copyright- Barbara Beacham
The A&B Building was made entirely from driftwood. To say it was unique seemed hardly a worthy explanation. That is what drove the new owner to call the Greater Midwest Register of Historical Places and request they make the three hour sojourn to see his new purchase.
The three women from the historical society stood speechless before the unique structure before them. The trio had decades of experience between them, having visited numerous locales to absorb some unique and tantalizing historical buildings. But this, this one was a horse of a different color.
Nearby, Hugh McMann anxiously watched the expressions on their faces.
Ladies, I want to tell you again how excited I am you made the trip up here from Kansas City to see my find. I know you will consider it worthy of your attention. Keep in mind it was erected in 1899.
“How could we not list it?” the lady in charge agreed.