What Secret Identity – Sunday Photo Fiction – 08/13/17

 

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Technology always catches up with everyone, including Superheroes. It happened to Wonder Woman first when the scientists took the time to bite into stealth technology. Her invisible jet suddenly became the subject of intense scrutiny which lead to her having to convert to alternate transportation.

Next it was Thor and his hammer, Batman and all his toys and even the mighty Hulk having to jump through hoops instead of smashing things. But through all this one superhero stood tall. He was still leaping tall buildings and outrunning bullets with ease.

But then technology got into his business in a bigger way than any of the others because cell phones began erasing his most vital tool, the phone booth. Superman knew where every phone booth on Earth was, so being able to pop in and make the change was no big deal.

But now the numbers were dwindling at such a rate he was concerned about his secret. How would he continue to do it?

 

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Here Is Where You Can Stick Your Sign – Sunday Photo Fiction – 08/16/17

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Folks from all over town continued to gather for the show. All knew it was coming, because the history of the two families was so well known.

Facing off on Main Street was two of the town leaders, McCamis and Staley. Their faces were red and their voices growing ever louder. Staley, as the head of the public works was here in an official capacity. It was his task to keep things running smoothly in the town. Occasionally that meant he had to inconvenience some for the good of the whole. But to choose this day to do so was what had McCamis so mad.

“You know my family has crossed this route on this day for over 100 years to commemorate Grandfather Boyle McCamis’ final push to regain the city from our enemies.”

“It is fifty feet, go around!” Staley growled.

“One hundred five times we have cast our steps on this path and today will be no different!” McCamis sneered.

 

 

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When Aliens Lose Their Head – Sunday Photo Fiction – 07/23/17

 

 

 

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The detectives milled around the ‘head’, trying to determine just what kind of break in the case this was. No one had believed aliens were robbing banks in the quad state area. But so far all the video tape reviews reflected a flawless execution of robberies with a crew dressed as aliens. From head to toe every detail was covered.

“Someone spent a fair amount of cash to make all this happen. How much do you think they would have to steal to break even?” one detective asked his friends.

“A considerable amount. It kind of makes you wonder what is the point?”

“The amount they have taken has increased each time. The alien factor has made the bank folks kind of skittish. They put up no opposition when it happens.”

“They are a bunch of weirdos. My buddy Todd sais they all want the aliens to visit their bank. Says its a kind of game to them,” an older detective shared.

“What are you saying man? They are in cahoots with the aliens?”

“Aliens? Don’t tell me you are a believer. Look at this thing.”

 

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Missed It By . . . Oh Well – Sunday Photo Fiction – 07/23/17

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The best project managers know how to pick their award winning teams. Such was the reputation of Harry Warner. But when it came to finding the best engineer for his masterpiece project Harry only wanted one: Special Al. Special Al was formally known as Aloysious Fremin Cuyahoga.

But as Harry reflected on all the choices he made that particular one may have been his doom. Right now his million dollar sea craft was not sliding through the water. No it was still on its way into the sky. Because Special Al had live up to his reputation of once in a while missing the mark by just a fraction. Physics sometimes threw Special Al a big curve.

“I told my mother she ruined me with that online school Al said as he watched the ground below still growing smaller,” Al protested.

“I think it was all the ship launch fail videos you watched,” Hamilton the project financier chimed in. “You were sure that would happen to us.”

“What I wanted, intended really was something that would guarantee a smooth launch,” Special Al replied.

“If we survive the fall,” Harry said, “It will be the launch to remember!”

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Maybe the Fence Will Keep Goldilocks Out – Sunday Photo Fiction – 07/16/17

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Copyright – Mike Vore

 

At first Rowan posted the No Trespassing sign. He meant it too. There was a history to this place worth preserving in his mind. But the visitors, unwanted as they were,continued to frequent the place.  The draw was a mystery to him since he was just in the beginning stages of restoration.

The next step was a fence, six feet high which should have cut down the flow. But it didn’t. Rowan could see the continuing wear and tear even as he and his crew worked to correct the effects of age and neglect on the structure.

Next he recruited his friend Abner to mount a camera to document exactly what was happening. His friend called two nights later laughing so hard Rowan could not hear a word he was saying. Rowan already had the info on how to access the video with his computer, so he booted up his laptop and settled on the couch to take a look.

He sat with his mouth open as a family of five bears climbed his fence and made themselves at home in the house.

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SPF – 07/16/17

I Can Hear You! – Sunday Photo Fiction – 07/09/17

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A great deal of thought went into the choice of the van to use for this stakeout. There was quite the catalogue of choices, including plumbers, electricians, satellite televison companies, florists and more. But the quarry the police wanted proved himself crafty time and again. Finally the navy blue exterminator’s van was chosen as the most unlikely to raise suspicion.

The officers settled in for what they expected to be a long haul.

“What do ya think?” Jenkins asked.

“Could be in there, could be in Scotland for all we know. The bloke is a slippery one!” Caswell replied.

“Usual bet?” Jenkins asked.

“Might as well. First twelve hours you get lunch and second twelve I will buy dinner. But if we don’t see or hear of him by morning we tag off.

Above the van an inconspicuous antenna allowed the one they were seeking to hear every word.

“Daphne, I thought you said the police were sending their best after me,” Bennigan said,

“That’s what I heard at the station. Caswell and Jenkins, the best in the whole department.

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How Bad Do You Want My Number – Sunday Photo Fiction – 06/25/17

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“What’s the game?” Jack asked.

“Kind of like hide and seek,” Jillian announced.

“Aren’t we kind of old for that?” Jack asked.

“It depends on how bad you want my phone number. You see I took one green leaf and wrote my cell phone number on it. Then I hid it in this grove somewhere. If you find it you can get your date with me. If you aren’t interested then it will be there for whoever will look.”

Jack hated games, but he really liked Jillian. The blonde hair and blue eyes with the intoxicating laugh was just something he couldn’t get off his mind. Not that he wanted to either.

“I think I have made it very clear how I feel about you,” Jack said. “Is this necessary?”

“No, it isn’t necessary. But it could be fun,” Jillian replied.

Jack’s expression betrayed his feelings about this adventure.

“You don’t want to play?”

“It’s the only way?” Jack asked.

Jillian cocked her head as she offered a playful smile.

“Fine!”

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Let it fly at the bird – Sunday Photo Fiction – 06/18/17

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None of the roughly five thousand students who crossed the Cramer University campus every day gave much thought to why the tan bird was installed atop the student center. There was a plaque, but it was old and nothing of interest to anyone of the twenty-first century. In truth the bird had become the target of a great competition that came around every spring.

The grounds crew at Cramer got really steamed when the tradition began nearly three decades earlier, because trying to get the paint removed from the homemade catapults was no easy task. But as with all things knowledge and preparation provided a way to lessen the lasting impact.

Also, even though he made a yearly declaration the practice was forbidden, the university president had come to enjoy the spectacle and had increased the minimum distance this year to challenge the partakers of the hijinks. The engineering students felt equal to the task as their prototype testing proved they could reach their target.

But there was an unknown player in the mix this year. Known simply as the Eagle Squadron their boast was that they could hit the bird on no less than seven of ten attempts.

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Snakes on her Head? – Sunday Photo Fiction – 06/04/17

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There was a game Jed and Kelly enjoyed as they moved through their life. Any time they saw a couple they tried to imagine their back story. There was all kinds of tales they concocted over their time together, tales of spies, lovers overcoming obstacles and more.

But when they happened across the sleek black statue at the airport it seemed to stump them and their usual story creation fun. Both Jed and Kelly stood in silence as they took in the piece of art. Watching live people was a whole different experience than trying to build out a story for this unmoving couple.

“Medusa cursed them,” Kelly suggested.

“What?” Jed asked.

“Medusa, you know the lady with the snakes for hair.”

“Yeah, okay. So how did they get her attention?” Jed asked.

“He is her son and she wanted him to marry another,” Kelly answered.

“I can buy that. Boy she got them just before the kiss that would have destroyed her!” Jed finished the story.

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