Misnomers

[Been a while since my last prompt response to The Daily Post]

“Know what bothers me?” Seeing Kara look up, Harriet laid her sandwich down on her paper plate, and pointed with both index fingers across the cafeteria table. “The word toothbrush. Totally wrong!” The older woman’s hands flew into the air, causing a diner at another table to flinch. “You use it on all your teeth, so it should be teethbrush! Or mouthbrush, since you can also use it to clean your gums!”

Kara waited for Harriet to bring her hands back down to the table before responding. “It’s a marvel how anyone maintains proper dental health, using such a horribly named product.”

“Don’t you agree?” Harriet leaned across the table, her face so close that Kara could see the dust on her colleague’s eyeglasses.  “It’s like jellyfish — they’re not fish, they’re actually… ” She bit her lip, as she sat back. “Something that’s not a fish.”

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Friday Fictioneers: Who Woulda

“Now THAT,” Mina’s voice rising in surprise, “is not something I expected to see.”

Wendy looked at the object at the end of her aunt’s extended finger, and blinked. Mina jabbed her finger at the car’s fender. “I mean, who woulda thought! A VW, here, in Israel!”

“Oh.” Wendy looked up at her aunt, a look of satisfied comprehension on her face. “Do they call it Tet Shin here?”

Every week, Rochelle Wisof-Fields hosts Friday Fictinoneers, where the objective is to write a complete story in 100 words or less in response to a photograph. I encourage you to learn more about Friday Fictioneers.


Friday Fictioneers: 30 Minutes or Less

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

The gate at the end of the driveway was locked, no intercom in sight. Balancing the insulated pizza delivery box on his left hand, Gabe checked the address on the receipt against the brass plaque embedded in the stone column. He nodded.

Gabe walked left, looking for any activity beyond the iron gate. Barren trees and a lawn anxious for spring formed a moat around the lifeless house.

He shrugged, and began walking back to his car — then stopped, hearing the voice behind him.

“You’re on time.” Gabe turned, and saw an elderly man, well-dressed, extending a wad of bills.

Every week, Rochelle Wisof-Fields hosts Friday Fictinoneers, where the objective is to write a complete story in 100 words or less in response to a photograph. I encourage you to learn more about Friday Fictioneers and view other responses to this week’s prompt by clicking the little blue frog.

Friday Fictioneers: Within Belief

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“Not always.” Craig36 AZ-19 pointed at the blank wall in front of them, and teleped the Archives. As the image formed, Winifred82 AZ-02 gasped.

“Is that — the sky?”

“Yes.” Craig36 smiled. “I stumbled across this during my research last week. It’s dated before the Cyber War, before clouds had completely covered the atmosphere. Before we needed the solar farm satellites.”

Winifred82 turned, her envirosuit constraining her movement. “But the sun’s hidden in this picture. You couldn’t find any pictures of the sun?”

Craig36 adjusted his suit’s oxygen filter. “I did. But I figured you’d find those beyond belief.”

Every week, Rochelle Wisof-Fields hosts Friday Fictinoneers, where the objective is to write a complete story in 100 words or less in response to a photograph. I encourage you to learn more about Friday Fictioneers and view other responses to this week’s prompt by clicking the little blue frog.

Friday Fictioneers: Snowbody’s Business

PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter

Jack. Yes, this time I shall call myself Jack.

The cold night air has rejuvinated me. The Warmbloods have failed, temporarily, in their attempt to prevent my return.

My time is short, and I shall make it my business this evening to sink my icy fangs into Warmblood hearts. Soon I’ll leave, as I have in the past, and some day this world will be uninhabitable for me. But when the Warmbloods bar that door, I will know they have sealed themselves in their own tomb.

Every week, Rochelle Wisof-Fields hosts Friday Fictinoneers, where the objective is to write a complete story in 100 words or less in response to a photograph. I encourage you to learn more about Friday Fictioneers and view other responses to this week’s prompt.

Friday Fictioneers: Cheers

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

By the time Lester had emptied the beer bottle, he’d wandered into a large field, no trash can or any other receptacle in sight. With a dismissive shrug and an unspoken apology to nature, he tossed the bottle aside. An unexpected thunk stopped him, and he walked over to the sound’s source.

The bottle deflected off the decapitated head of a mannequin. A tree branch lay across the mannequin’s shattered face; without understanding why, Lester picked up the bottle and rested it on the face, adjusting the branch to secure the placement.

Lester stood, belched, and laughed. “Cheers, mate.”

Every week, Rochelle Wisof-Fields hosts Friday Fictinoneers, where the objective is to write a complete story in 100 words or less in response to a photograph. I encourage you to learn more about Friday Fictioneers and view other responses to this week’s prompt.

Flashing into the Unknown 

Loise Jensen tells us today how responding to flash fiction prompts helped improve her writing. I’ve been using prompt responses to create background material for Gray Metal Faces, tangential vignettes to the novel’s main story. Been happy with most of those projects, but lately I’ve been feeling the urge to broaden my perspective, step outside my comfort zone. Head down an unknown path, and see where it leads. Writing self-contained stories in a 100 words or less, and engaging with other authors on our work — there is value to be found in this challenge.

Price

[A response to the latest prompt from The Daily Post: Privacy]

Leonard did not have the patience for cooking, yet also abhorred restaurants. He knew that having food delivered to him was costly, but justified the expense as the price for maintaining his privacy.

Shame On

Kenton Lewis just posted a neat little yarn about a clever lad who turns the tables on a co-worker’s attempted practical joke.

Kendrik could only laugh at his super’s order. Tube steak sandwich? “Yeah, it ain’t on the menu no more, but they still make it, you just gotta ask. And tell ’em I want extra sauce, too?” The intern nodded a smile in response, then laughed again — not at the ridiculous sandwich moniker, but rather at how poorly his super had framed the practical joke that Kendrik was expected to fall for.

Haven already recorded the rest of the staff’s orders on his phone and the necessary cash, Kendrik burst into the stairwell (third floor office, no thank you for the elevator) and descended the stairs, his response to his super’s joke at the forefront of his thoughts. Neither of the two obvious choices — either a dismissive get out of town that could give the impression he wasn’t a team player, or a disingenuous  aw shucks man you done got me good that would belie the coolly confident persona he was so eager to project — seemed acceptable to him. Shame on you, or shame on me? Fortunately, by the time he had entered the deli, an acceptable alternative came to him.

Kendrik pulled out his phone, selected his super’s number, typed — Sorry boss, they’re out of tube steaks today. But they’re running a special on weiner dogs. You want cheese on yours?