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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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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Pens and Swords #poetrybyglossarch

Pens and Swords

 

Two Legs

Aren’t Balanced

Tend to Topple, so

Keep a Pen

or Sword

Handy

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The Comeback

Here’s how it happened: I was on the ladder fixing a gutter when the wind gusted and I ended up standing at the edge of an old canal, and this boat glides up all weathergray and brown, riding high, filled with people.
“Going back?” asked the pilot.
“Sure,” I said.
“Step aboard, then.”
I did as he said.  The crowd shifted to make room.  The boat did not rock.
We slid down the canal till we reached the ocean.  I turned to ask where were were going but I realized I was alone.  Then, brightness: a newborn child crying.

———-

My daughter sleeps quietly in her swaddle and I watch her, Godlike, on the baby monitor.  Oh, and by the way: whoever came up with the metaphor “sleeping like a baby” clearly never had children.  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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