What Price Memories – Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – 3/28/17


“Well. I can tell you it is early twentieth century in origin,” the expert began. He continued to expound on the wherewithal of the piece as Kate’s mind wandered. She had coveted this day for years. Finally the Antique Roadshow was close enough to tote her mother’s prized possession over for a looksee. This old painting had hung over the fireplace in their home for her whole life, all seventy-three years.

“The style tells us this family was well to do, maybe even aristocratic,” the expert continued. Kate could imagine now, just as she had countless times the sound of the piano as the man allowed his fingers to find the keys needed to support the woman’s singing. Kate managed to fit many of her old classical favorites into this scene. This was something from her childhood she vowed never to part with.

“OH MY!” the expert said when he squinted at the artist’s signature.

“What?” Kate asked.

“Would you consider selling this? I’ll give you two million!”



Holey Outlaw Canvas – CRFF – 03/16/17


“What is this?” Inspector Clouseau said as he turned the piece of contraband over in his hand as he surveyed the scene of the latest Art Hater Serial Killer murder.

“Once it was called a canvas,” Yvette said. “For art.”

“Art! Art has been outlawed for a decade!”

“Legislation cannot stop passion, Inspector.”

“Perhaps not, but a slug can,” he said nodding to the lifeless form.

“So we assume AHSK found out about the victim’s art and came calling?”

“Assume nothing, dear Yvette. Check the desk calendar.”

“It just says Moriarty!”

“Holmes’ nemesis? I though he liked all art!”



Cornucopia of Trouble – FF – 02/03/17

Photo Copyright Roger Bultot


Perry strained to see what Alicia pointed to seven stores below.

“I can’t see it!” Perry declared.

“Here use the binoculars,” she said.

Perry peered through the black device and nodded acceptance.

“Blue is ten points, green is fifteen, red is fifty. If you can catch a pedestrian it is 200!”

“I know your mom said to clean out the old fruit from your fridge, but . . .”

“Don’t be a chicken! Are you afraid a girl will beat you?”

“Never going to happen,” Perry said with a tight smile. “You first”

“Oh no!” Alicia said as she dropped her melon, “There’s mom!”


Get Me Central Casting! -Sunday Photo Fiction


Papa Bear crossed his arms as the credits rolled up the screen in their cave. The long awaited big screen version of the most famous tale of all time left a really bad taste in his mouth. Mama Bear tried to breathe in as quietly as possible as she anticipated his wrath. For Baby Bear the story seemed just right, exactly as he remembered.

“Who would ever believe Cumberbatch as a bear? I said get Clooney or Pitt, but no they had to have the Brit.There is no British speaking bears I have ever met.”

“Oh honey, I thought he was wonderful. So was that Keira Knighley. I have always loved her since Love, Actually. How did they ever convince her to play such a distinguished character as me?”

“Another Brit,” Papa groaned. “Since that Downtown Abbey everyone is up and down the stairs crazy.”

“Papa it is Downton Abbey and it is about the upstairs life compared to the downstairs one of English aristocracy,” Baby Bear said. “I think they did a fabulous job. I loved working with Jennifer Lawrence. She was the perfect Goldilocks.”

“Oh dear it is probably because she had a pet bear growing up in Kentucky !” Mama Bear said.


As I wrote this I happened to think I might offend some of you from Allistair’s neck of the world, but I mean this as a purely humor piece with no intent to offend. I hope you all find the humor I tried to insert. I look forward to the continuation of Sunday Photo Fiction and pledge my help to make sure it can.


The Target in the Haystack – FF – 12/16/16


“Is he still holding the rifle?” Jared asked.

“Yep!” Kelly said into her phone. She looked around the corner of the barn to see Farmer Dave pacing the porch.

It was a harmless prank, one Jared needed to complete to join the fraternity. But now he was stuck in the feed ring where hungry horses were quickly destroying his cover. If he was exposed to Farmer Dave he would be arrested if not shot for trespassing.

“How long ago did he feed them?” Kelly asked. ‘They are eating like they are starved!”

“I sure picked the wrong place to hide!”

For Friday Fictioneers


How Can You Forget Reality? -FF 12-09-16

Photo Prompt Copyright Lucy Fridkin


“Even with this virtual reality thingy it’s impossible to imagine,” Haley said. She slowly turned as she watched the scenery.

“You have to consider the fact no one thought it would come to them either,” John replied. “Hawaii was just a non-descript chain of islands, not even thought of as a state on that morning.”

“Imagine waking up to see the sky full of death!” Haley replied.

“Yes, many people had their lives taken on that day. Seventy five years makes a lot of people forget the horror.”

“How could you forget?”

“Sometimes you have to so you can live!”


ph1207Today is the 75th anniversary of the most devastating attack in U.S. military history. Also the impetus of the United States entering the Second World War. Pearl Harbor is something we still remember, even those who were not alive at that time. We cannot let this and other lessons fade as we move on with our freedoms. It is because of those who fought and died in these times we can do what we choose today.


Hungry For Nothing – FF – 10 June 2016

While Rochelle is busy working toward a July deadline to finish her book I am enjoying the chance to see photo prompts that came around the summer before I enjoyed the world encompassing troupe known as the Friday Fictioneers. If you come each week to read try giving the writing side a hand. We love to add to the mix!


No one could talk to him when he got like this. But it wasn’t because he would withdraw, it was that dang helmet. His lifelong dream had been to deep sea dive. But when you live in Kansas there is very little chance of that. To say he was stubborn was an understatement. To try to get his way of traveling to the sea he decided to go on a hunger strike and helmet in place he began his campaign. What he did not know was that mother and father already had plane tickets to Florida for the coming weekend.


A Dream – Sophie Marceau Mystery -Friday Fiction With Ronavan Writes -3 June 2016

This is my fifth installment of a new Sophie Marceau mystery with Ronovan Writes and the Friday Fiction prompt. Basically Ronovan gives us a one word clue to utilize in building a story. I decided to give my established character, Detective Sophie Marceau, a new series within this weekly challenge. I invite you to check for previous chapters in the links that follow this week’s story. This chapter follows the theme of: A Dream


Tom yanked a white handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against the flow of red from the suspect’s head, strengthening his grip as the fellow seemed to falter. Sophie pushed from behind as they closed ranks to enter the throng of reporters that were now recovering from the shock of the moment. Cameras clicked as they documented the scene of fresh violence and the crimson trail escaping the limited reach of Tom’s small cloth.

Sophie saw a smug look of accomplishment on Mayor Crawley’s face where he stood some twenty feet from them now. With a re-election vote less than ten days distant she was sure he would add this to his ever growing list of positive events during his tenure. She was amazed how politicians could manage to take the most benign measures of success and tailor them to fit their personal agendas. This man was no different, willing to claim any positive and deflect all negative criticisms.

In contrast she was encouraged to see her Captain’s usual dour expression at least shifted to a neutral one. He rarely looked overtly happy, but if the Crimson Nights case was settled it would be one less agitator in his life. For this crowd the wounded man embodied the gruesome purveyor of horrific acts. Having him in the open one more second than absolutely necessary would expose him to more of the brutality they had just experienced. She continued to gently nudge him forward faster, seeing another hundred yards to the safety of the front door.

“Great job detectives. You deserve a raise!” the mayor shouted over the boisterous crowd as they passed near to his position.

Sophie found herself remembering a very similar dream from three nights earlier. It seemed out of place at that moment, but now as she looked around so much was familiar. She blinked several times to give herself the chance to get back in this moment. Sophie struggled to keep her expression passive, wanting to shoot back a comment, but knowing it would be lost in the sea of confusion and excitement. This politician seemed to eschew the idea that all are innocent until proven guilty, but then innocence meant the case would not be closed and his achievement would be lost. Would that alone be the difference in his bid to claim another five years leading the city? She had no interest in the politics, because no matter who held the chair laws would be broken. She had little to fear as far as job security in this city, of that she was sure.

In the sanctuary of the precinct she finally let herself breathe again. Two uniformed officers took the suspect from her and Tom, rubber gloves in place to shield them as they tended to the wound. It was something they had not even considered in the heat of the moment. But then who had time when the potential for further violence loomed so large?

“Do you still have a change of clothes in your locker?” Cammie O’Neal asked. She was the Public Information Officer for the department, over from the Commissioner’s office.

“No,” Tom replied. Sophie nodded her negative response, drawing a frown from the middle aged, brown haired woman.

“You have thirty minutes before the press conference. You think you can make something happen?”

“Press conference?” Sophie questioned.

“Yes! “You caught the Crimson Nights serial killer! CNN, Fox News and the major networks are on their way. This is a big deal!”

“We don’t even know . . .” Sophie began before Cammie cut her off.

“I need you to do . . . something,” she said nodding at their appearance before answering her ringing cell phone. Tom grimaced at Sophie as they watched Cammie walk away as she continued to coordinate the incoming media horde.

“I’ll be back,” Tom said grabbing the keys to his car as he jogged toward the employee entrance in the rear.

Sophie plopped in her chair and rubbed the bridge of her nose as she repeated the thought Cammie had short-circuited.

“We don’t even know for sure if he is the Crimson Nights killer!”


Chapter 1                           Chapter 2                             Chapter 3

Chapter 4


The Doubt-Filled Offensive – SPF – 5 June 2016

I got so many responses from last week’s entry I thought I might continue the story this week. I will have to go back and see what Mr. Forbes says about ongoing stories. Some hosts prefer you don’t have a serial and I cannot remember if he has that view. So until I know for sure enjoy!


Hugh Kelly was a brilliant strategist and the main reason other than our brilliant code that we has survived against our invaders for so long. But even Hugh was unsure now, almost seven days after that chilling message appeared on the bridge. THE PIES . . . WE KNOW! Did they know more than we thought or was it a ploy? They had some of our best and it was accepted that they had interrogation teams.

Did they know our plans for this place? Were they hiding and waiting for us? Were our emplacements all compromised? The possibilities were endless and maddening! Alex Maddox said he thought it was just psychological warfare, meant to cause confusion and doubt. If that was true then the effect was just as desired. Long meetings filled with too many opinions to give confidence preceded the choice, but the command group voted to move ahead with the offensive strike.

Now we sit with nervous energy as the magic hour approaches. Will this be our end? Could we wake to see a new flag wafting over our land tomorrow? Honestly, I just want to wake up and see anything tomorrow. Because too many of my friends will not.