Cal listened to the gentle lapping of the water against the long bridge allowing it to almost hypnotize him while he made his way along the wet boards. A passing rainstorm still left the sky with some deep blues which could mean the promise of more.
In the distance Cal was sure he could see the form of a person on the angled poles set on the sides of the bridge. What was the person doing? As he accumulated a few more steps he realized the person was a young girl. That young girl! The one he watched in the market every weekend.
“Hello,” she said as drew near.
“How do you do that?”
“Walk on these without falling, especially when they are wet?”
“Well, I promised myself I would do this until you asked me out. I have been doing it for almost three months now, so I suppose what they say about practice makes perfect must have some truth.”
“You think I am going to ask you out?”
“Aren’t you?” she said blinking her deep azure yes as she smiled.
Each week a photo is used, donated by one of the participants of Sunday Photo Fiction, and the idea is to write a story with the photo as a prompt in around 200 words.
Teresa, without the H had real issues with the order. She had been counselled by everyone from sisters to the Monsignor about her unwillingness to submit to the program. Teresa without the H would not relent however. She said God was color blind accepting all who came with the right heart.
By all accounts she was perfect in any other measure, but the wearing of white was infuriating.
After supper one evening she was walking through the third floor when an unfamiliar man appeared from the shadows.
“You cannot continue this!” He said.
‘Why is this a matter for your consideration?”
“It is not as simple as black and white. Consider this your last warning!”
Teresa without the H shuddered when his hot breath bit into her neck.
The next day Teresa without the H was also without the white.
Mitch had the guard’s schedules memorized. He should know them inside and out since he created them six months before today for this exact event. Sure the old astronaut uniform was bulky, and smelled like someone had used it without the sanitary features to deal with bathroom needs, but it was the only way he could sneak out the chunk of rock he had to have.
Doctor Abernathy convinced him it was the magic bullet he could use to save the love of Mitch’s life, Kristin, who remained connected to a roomful of machines after a decade and a half in a coma. All Mitch had to do was navigate one hundred thirty more yards of museum displays and then make a dash across the parking lot to his car.
He had no idea Doctor Abernathy’s life rested in the hands of Viktor Kazlensky, an Albanian drug lord, or that a bullet with his name on it would find a home in his body the moment the doctor wrapped his fingers around this million dollar rock. The promise of holding Kristin again was too much of a possibility for Mitch to ignore.
Losing the love of your life like Callie did can either make or break a girl. For Callie it birthed a deep and strong fire. Not hot enough to finish the craft she chose to devote her heart to, but enough to create a pottery making empire.
I heard that the ink was still wet on Callie’s 30 year deal to supply Pier One with pottery when Zenner Ambrose stumbled into her shop supposedly finding his way home after a six month alien abduction. Her heart barely fluttered when he spoke her name, and his story registered little more in her mind.
“Sorry Z, I am married to my business now!”
Later Callie checked for lingering nosey eyes in her work shop before closing the heavy front doors. She made her way past pumpkins, pots and sundry other objects toward two huge nondescript trolley doors. Beyond the she let her hands slide admiringly over rows of new spaceships.
“Does anyone suspect?”
“No Jan-Ja Ri. Picking Zenner as your scapegoat was genius!”
“The fleet is nearly rebuilt. This time without Private Hudson gunning for us we can take over the earth!” Jan-Ja Ri nodded.
If any of you are fans of the Aliens science fiction franchise you will remember Bill Paxton played Private Hudson. He was one of my favorite movie actors and I was saddened to hear of his passing. The above was a cross reference to that role.
Everyone has had a boss like Clinton Emery the Fifth. He wasn’t the fifth in his family to bear this name, but the only man anyone could claim to know that could down a fifth of whiskey at dinner and never bat an eye. That is as long as there was no olive involved. That is why he chose whiskey rather than Martinis. You see martini’s were Clinton’s kryptonite.
The story was that sometime during the Second War to End All Wars he landed in a French bar or what was left of it in desperate need of some liquid determination. This French beauty convinced him that martini’s were a man’s best friend after her. Clinton had never been able to say no to a female until that day May 3, 1944, but after “tossing olives” for sixteen hours he swore he would never do two things: trust a woman and let an olive anywhere near is liquid.
Cameron hated this part of the job. Working for the Better Business Bureau in Beaumont Texas was a pretty good job on most days. But today was not turning into one of those days. No, today she was dealing with a case concerning the Tadpole Training Academy of Tyler, Texas.
The phrase Everything is Bigger in Texas was jumping off the page of the Tadpole Training Academy website. They claimed their tadpoles were able to do more than the red striped ones from Arkansas, or the Bayou babies from Louisiana, although those had to outsmart gators.
Per her request the Tadpole Training Academy had overnighted a living specimen for her to verify their claims. Nearly thirty minutes after she freed the amphibian from it’s container it was still flying through the air and landing with a plop into the glass container before her.
“What is that?” her co-worker asked as he stopped outside her door.
“The most amazing thing I have ever seen in my life,” Cameron said. “Simply amazing!”
Grandpa Joe loved having Davey over for the weekend. The kindergarten aged boy had a great imagination and could spin a tale worthy of the best story teller in the world. Grandpa Joe knew something really good was in the works because Davey had been consumed with activity all morning. He had been flipping through photo albums, seemingly more enthralled the more he looked.
“Grandpa Joe did you like school?”
“Yes. Don’t you?”
“Sometimes. When we learn about animals I do.”
“Before long you will be able to read stories about all kinds of cool things, like cops and robbers and knights and dragons.”
I wish I could have gone to school back when you did,” Davey said smiling as his mind worked.
“Yes. I think we could have had a lot of fun.”
“Well we did not have that fancy new school bus to ride like you do,” Grandpa Joe said.
“I know,” Davey said.”But the way you had was much more fun,” Davey proclaimed.
“Yep. Grandma Pam said you are so old you rode a dragon to school!”
Alexa had a nearly terminal case of envy. Since she was a pre-teen is was always about having what others had no matter the cost. Her dad was fortunate to be the director of the local bank and had the job that allowed him to satisfy his only child.
Alexa’s mom warned her husband they were setting her up for failure as an adult, but Alexa knew how to work her dad, getting whatever her heart desired.
Then along came Lenny, the one who captured her heart. Lenny was a grease monkey with barely five pennies to jingle in his pocket. Alexa wanted Lenny in her life, but Lenny had no hopes of providing the life Alexa desired. When they visited the Hexadome Complex in Stuttsbury Alexa was enthralled. This is where she wanted to live.
“I’m sorry Alexa, but the math just doesn’t work,” Lenny told her.
Three months later Alexa slid her hand into Abe Benton’s, Abe was the owner of the Hexadome and the only one who could give her this desire. Her mother’s prediction had come true.
The girl behind the counter suppressed her smile as the young boy returned, huffing and puffing from his latest sojourn to find a portable version of a black light. His friend Hardy told him that the girl, yes, the one he had pined for all year had left her phone number on these bottles. She was a puzzle aficionado, and loved the mystery of figuring things out. If Bart was going to win her heart he had to be able to match a challenge of minds.
What he did not know was that the spunky blonde wearing the name tag that read Christina was the best friend of his dream girl, Holly and wanted Bart to find the number. She agreed to Holly’s demand to make him work for it, but she was willing to assist any way she could. She never uttered a word during his search, but used her eyes and subtle audible gestures to guide him.
Bart looked at the prize in front of him in the form of seven digits. His hand shook as he punched the buttons on his phone. He thought his heart might stop as the phone rang once, twice, three times and then she answered.