Buy Bread, Alone #FridayFictioneers

It took him a few minutes to decide what to wear to the bakery.
He went with a clean cut look in the end: something Ralph Lauren with a collar.
Then he was on the sidewalk and doing his best to casually open the bakery door.
She was behind the counter, smiling at him.
“Nice day, huh?”
“Wha-yeah, beautiful,” he said.
He didn’t see the note until he got home; it was stuffed under the sourdough.
“Man does not live by bread alone,” she had written. Below it, a phone number.

———

The photo prompt reminded me of living completely on my own for the first time.  It was over the summer in Seattle, and I was 19.  I didn’t have any flings with a baker, but I do recall how even going to the grocery store was novel.  And in general, life was filled with the sort of giddy promise that is the sole purview of the teenagers and the young twentysomethings.  Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.

I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer.  The weekly photo that inspired this story is below.

Image is copyright Kelvin M. Knight.

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Sere Genesis #FridayFictioneers

It began when I climbed the low basalt hill at the edge of town.  I found a cave halfway up the side, you see. The weird thing is, now I keep having to go back. And I just can’t shake the feeling that when I step inside, someone else joins me from the depths.   To top it all off, I found a notebook filled with words on the night stand this morning.  The handwriting was mine.
Here’s how it began:
“In the beginning, the world was without form, and void; brilliant light shone across the desert.”

———

When I have an hour or so to myself, I run from my front door to the row of volcanoes on the west edge of town.  This particular one is the closest, and it really does have a cave in the side.  It’s a small lava tube, and the entrance is under the bump on the right side of the hill.  On the day I took this photo, storm clouds were all around and the light was unearthly.  There are no atheists in the desert, I suppose.  Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.

I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer.  The weekly photo that inspired this story is below.  It’s mine, and in the creative commons:

danny-boweman-1

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Feeling Light #FridayFictioneers

He wove the wires around the bolts and turned them once; she jumped.
“What is this? Some sort of flame?” she asked.
He smiled in the strange white light.
“This, my love, is called electricity.” Then he reached into his pocket.
He opened his hand, and she picked up the ring of bright gray metal. She gasped.
“What is this? It’s so light!”
“A ring.” He smiled. “It’s made of aluminum metal.”
“Aluminum..you are so full of surprises,” she murmured, and pulled him close.
“You don’t even have to ask. The answer’s yes!”

———

I return after two weeks!  Better than two years, right?   My wife suggested the idea for this story, but I washed it in my standard post apocalyptic worldfeel.  Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.

I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer.  The weekly photo that inspired this story is below:

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Weight and Weightlessness #FridayFictioneers

“So, what, you screwed up your life and now you’re a mover?”
Jim glanced at the teenager lounging against the barren wall. “Nice thought, kid, but no. I chose this job.”
“Chose, huh?”
Jim wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. “See how empty your house is, now?”
The boy shrugged.
“So is your new one — until your things arrive. Then you settle.”
“So, what? I don’t get it.”
Jim laughed. “I work like a dog for three months, then I spend the rest of the year driving around in my camper.  I just never settled, you know?”

———

I have had my fair share of moving.  Just the sight of those boxes makes me anxious.  In any case, I hope the dusty soil of New Mexico (my home state) will let me take root for a while at last.  Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.

I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer.  The weekly photo that inspired this story is below:

 

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I Will Make You Fishers of Men, He Said #FridayFictioneers

He carries a black Sharpie with him at all times.  It is ideal for quick scribbling in public places: a granite bench, a concrete wall by the ATM, the smooth white tiles above the row of urinals in an airport bathroom.  It is ideal; his message is short.
He carries a list of numbers in a worn spiral notebook with a red cover.  Each day, he dials ten at random.  Each day, ten pay phones ring.  One day, someone will answer–and stay on the line.
His message is short.

———

When I was in high school, I heard a pay phone ringing on Sandia Crest.  I don’t remember if I answered — but I think I did.  Someone was looking for one of their friends (or family members?) in the viewing area  — if my recollection is true.  This memory is curiously convolved with one of my first girlfriend telling me about how she passed out at Sandia Crest.  Was that when we were dating?  Was it years later?  In any case, it is my policy to always answer a ringing pay phone.  Unfortunately, in this iPhone age, that is something I doubt I’ll ever do again.   Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.

I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer.  The weekly photo that inspired this story is below:

 

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Kryptonite #FridayFictioneers

The man walked around the car, smiling slightly at the Kansas license plate still stuck in the corner of the rear view windshield.
“What brings you here, anyway?” asked the mover’s assistant.
“World peace,” the man replied.
The movers glanced at each other.
“A few thousand years too late,” the mover said. “Everything in order with the car?”
“Yes, it’s fine,” the man said as he folded himself into the driver’s side.
As soon as he reached an empty stretch of highway, he stopped, got out of the car, picked it up, and blasted off into the sky.

———

This is what I thought of when I saw the Kansas license plate in the picture.  Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.

I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer.  The weekly photo that inspired this story is below:

 

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The Revenant #FridayFictioneers

She lit the candle on the windowsill and bent to slip on her mud-caked shoes.
“What would happen I followed you?” I asked.
She plucked the candle out of its holder and looked back at me.  “Do you know the story about the goose, you know, the one who laid the golden eggs?”
“Yeah, I remember it,” I said.
“Then go on to bed, my love. See you in a few nights.”
She pressed her lips to mine before slipping into the dark.  I glanced at the other candle, sighed, and swept up the dirt she’d tracked in.

———

I return after two years!   I have also recruited my friend Brian, and I look forward to what he comes up with.  Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.

I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer.  The weekly photo that inspired this story is below:

 

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