Filling Papa’s Shoes – Friday Fictioneers – 09-22-17

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Zander and Grandpa always had a special bond. He was the first grandchild, the oldest of the brood and the first boy for several years. Zander liked being with Papa Max because he treated him like an equal.

No one was surprised when Max took Papa Max’ death especially hard. But the request to have his old worn out shoes drew confused looks from all.

Safely inside his room Zander carefully cleaned off the dust from Papa Max’ shoes. Not one, but two planes had crashed into the building where his Papa worked.

“I promise I will fill these Papa!”


 

I realize this is a week delayed from the sixteenth anniversary of the day that changed the world for so many, but with all the natural disasters at play this month the subject matter is entirely rich. Yes, this is a remembrance of 9-11-01.

 

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Tearing Out My Heart – Friday Fictioneers – 09-15-17

 

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Millie took pains to search out what she was looking for to make her point. Some said Tommy was hard headed and difficult to reach, but she loved him and vowed to work until she got through.

She could see progress in their relationship. Understanding the fact that he was a visual learner helped in many ways. She made every effort to express herself in pictures or symbolic gestures.

The slice of bread with the heart missing was the perfect way to communicate what filled her heart.

She smiled when he took the sandwich.

“Is there any milk?” he asked.


 

 

 

 

 

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The Nowhere Trail – Friday Fictioneers – 09-08-17

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Sophie Marcus’ detective mind worked every possible angle, but even she could not reconcile what here eyes presented. There was a clear trail of where the kidnappers turned into the brush and then there wasn’t.

Her partner said, “Soph, I don’t like this, not one bit!”

She nodded agreement. They needed to return the child to her parents. But all she could see was an unexplainable escape. You couldn’t beat physics, so where were they?

“Seven hours,” Tom said checking his watch. The kidnappers gave them only a half day to assemble the money and half of that was gone.


 

 

 

 

 

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The Storm of the Century . . . Again – Friday Fictioneers – 09-01-17

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Once this building was the place everyone knew they could go for safety. If there was a threat you wanted to be here. Nestled in these walls dreams were happy no matter how ominous the threat.

But sometimes there is no safe place, no respite. Sometimes the onslaught is so overwhelming the very best laid plans are worthless. Those times present problems to which there is no answer. When the winds and rain are so intense that no structure is safe.

Anna huddled with her children as the wind whipped the torrential rain on her back. This was their choice.


 

I am sorry to paint such a gloomy story, but as many of you are I am feeling heartsick for our fellow citizens in Texas and Louisiana and specifically the Houston metropolis area. We are witnessing the second “Storm of the Century” rip apart the lives of millions less than a decade and a half after Katrina did the same to Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama.

We had the pleasure of meeting a young man while having lunch on Sunday at a local Subway who lives in Houston and was on a truck driving run. We got to pray with him over the situation, which was all we could do to help him. He shared this photo with us.

Harvey

 

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The Firefly Conga Phenomenon – Friday Fictioneers – 08-25-17

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There was a rotation. Everyone knew it and abided by it, usually. But no one ever mentioned usual and Eric in the same sentence. Eric was a bug guy, well THE bug guy. Eric wanted his turn with the satellites and he was done waiting.

As he tapped away on the keyboard he blinked to make sure his eyes weren’t lying. Nope it was there alright, the “Firefly Conga Line Phenomenon”. He used his phone to call his mentor, thrilled to finally prove his hypothesis.

Meanwhile three states away Evan fixed his lighting issue with two strings of Christmas lights.

 

 

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The eBay Bargain of a Lifetime – Friday Fictioneers – 08-18-17

 

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Mack stood speechless at the door to Kelly’s bath room. He’d spent countless hours trying to plan the perfect opportunity to pop the question. While doing so he needed a place to stash the ring. his best choice finally presented itself in the doll cabinet he never had seen Kelly open. She would never suspect a thing.

But now he stood before an empty cabinet as Kelly told him she took her friend Kristin’s advice and sold the dolls on eBay to get money for her wedding. Mack felt a wave of nausea when he considered the money he’d spent.

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I Can’t Find the Stash – Friday Fictioneers – 08-11-17

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Copyright – CEAyr

Lester remembered every moment of the night they pulled the largest heist in their storied history. He never liked the name they earned, The Nightmare Squad, but Hobbes convinced him it would work to their advantage. Lester put it out of his mind, knowing this last heist would be the most risky.

Lester blinked to focus his eyes as he studied the note Hobbes left behind when he was caught by the federal authorities.

“Find the rock, find the happiness. You know where to look . . .”

Lester wished the feds had waited one more minute to nab his partner.

 

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What Kind of Stalker? – Friday Fictioneers – 08-04-17

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Copyright – Dale Rogerson

 

After many uncharacteristically silent moments at the monthly garden club meeting Marge broke the silence.

“This is disturbing!” she said.

“It’s exactly what each club member said was missing isn’t it?” Trudy asked.

“Yes,” Marge replied.

“We have a stalker!” Allie joked.

“Not funny,” Marge snapped.

“Don’t you get it? Flower stalks?” Allie giggled.

“Someone trespassed in our gardens!” Trudy exclaimed.

“Trespassed? Since when are we defending our space?” Allie asked.

“Did you read the note?” Marge asked.

She held it up to read.

“Roses are red, violets are blue, I came for the blooms, now I come for you!”

 

 

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A Tangle in the Grid – Friday Fictioneers – 07/28/17

 

 

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Photo copyright – J. Hardy Carroll

 

Pope stood with his arms crossed huffing and puffing. He would rather huff and puff on the cigarettes stuffed in his pocket, but that wasn’t allowed here. No what was allowed was for everyone to crowd around the one pay phone in all of the Manning Airport to charge their cellular phones. Pope hated the annoying little devices. He lived firmly on the grid and cursed those who didn’t.

He imagined a spider looking exactly like the tangle of charger cords from all the outlets nearby. How could he get to this phone to make his call?

“Damn the hipsters!”

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