The Lesson of The Color Yellow … Friday Fictioneers

A big shout out to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields and Friday Fictioneers. An outstanding place for authors to finesse their writing style each week by writing a flash fiction (100 words or less) or short story based on a photo prompt. For more info on how you can be a part of this fun loving group of writers or to just sample their creativity, click HERE!

My entry:

PHOTO PROMPT © The Reclining Gentleman

PHOTO PROMPT © The Reclining Gentleman

The crowd was spellbound.

“It’s not just about the color yellow,” she said pausing for affect. “Although if one thinks about it yellow’s a most exceptional color. After all the sun shines yellow, the moon at its brightest is a rich golden yellow and we mustn’t forget glorious spring daffodils. Yes, yellow a truly fulfilling aspect of color.”

The shining vision of loveliness continued. “You see it’s not only about color in one’s life. It’s about the absence of it and most definitely one color should never be sufficient.”

Then with a mighty sweep of her wings the angel vanished from view.

*

Thanks for stopping by, I hope you enjoyed my words. Have a wonderful rest of your week and weekend to come, rich with colors of every kind!

With sincere affection

~ Penny

A Warmth Against Her Skin – Sunday Photo Fiction

Hi Al and thank you for providing this wonderful weekly writers challenge (200 words or less) based on a photo. I love your city photo below, beautiful! For more information on how to enter Sunday Photo Fiction’s writers challenge (or to sample the other authors creative work) click here

My offering follows:

140 01 January 24th 2016

Photo Credit and copyright Alastair Forbes 2016

A Warmth Against Her Skin

Walking briskly along the street, she listened to early morning sounds of the waking city. Although warmly dressed, chilly air still managed to permeate the several layers of thick winter clothing. She hugged herself feeling an intense need for warmth against her skin.

Continuing her morning walk, she passed street vendors, inhaling the enticing aromas of breakfast fare being served to waiting customers. Recognizing her, a few vendors waved hello, welcoming smiles spread upon their friendly faces.

“Nancy,” one of the vendors called, volume of his voice raised so she’d be sure to hear him. “How about a hot cup of coffee and pastry to warm you up this morning? And say …” he added, noticing she was alone, “where’s your walking companion today?”

She shook her head, smiling a sad little smile back, hugging herself even more fiercely against the cold.

“I’m solo now,” She responded, an involuntary shiver to her movements, realization finally setting in that it wasn’t warmth against her skin that was missing, it was a warmth so desperately needed to stop the cold dark emptiness pouring out of her broken heart.

*

Thank you for stopping by, I hope your week is a great one filled to overflowing with warmth – in both your heart and your life!

With much affection,

~ Penny

Friday Fictioneers – Wishing you …

It’s been awhile since I’ve spent time with the Friday Fictioneers. Those talented writers, whose creative stories (of approximately 100 words) always make for a good read, are lead by the gracious and talented Rochelle. For more information on how you can become a Friday Fictioneer or just spend some time reading other authors creative musings, click here!

My offering for this week’s photo prompt by Scott L. Vannatter follows:

Copyright-Scott L. Vannatter

PHOTO PROMPT – © Scott L. Vannatter

When a Cat Smiles

Writing down the names of my social media friends on my “Socially Correct Greetings” list and then adding which holiday greeting to be used for each (based on their religious beliefs) was time consuming this year.

I didn’t want to use the generic Happy Holiday greeting either. Too impersonal.

My cat smiling, as usual, at both my and my species self imposed idiocy responded accordingly with a single “Meow”.

One sound conveying so much. I liked it and so followed his wise advice.

I wish you and yours … LOVE!

With much affection,

~ Penny

Sunday Photo Fiction – Maze of corridors or it’s all about directions!

View of one of the outbuildings from the roof of Dover Castle

photograph © Alastair Forbes

View of one of the outbuildings from the roof of Dover Castle

It’s not that I don’t read directions when I receive them (okay I don’t, at least not very well) but who knew a castle could have so many corridors. Well actually I did, still, I have a map and directions too, but I figured I could just follow the map. Looked simply enough. Right turn here, left turn there and so on until I should have ended up in the dining room.

It was nice to be invited for the festive holiday weekend, but between the cold drafty bedroom, poorly lit hallways, well let’s just say I’d be glad when it was time to go.

Now it appeared, instead of freezing, I’d starve to death before finding my way to the dining room.

Finally I looked at the directions again squinting in the poor light to make out the clearly printed words at the bottom of the sheet of paper.

What I found there, that I should have read in the beginning said, “When you think you’ve gotten enough exercise, use your cell phone and call this number. We’ll come and get you for dinner.”

Proving the point you should read ALL the directions first!

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For more information about Sunday Photo Fiction and how you can enter click here for the details. your very talented host, Alastair, will guide you through the steps. And, while there, be sure to click on the little blue guy for more short stories by some great writers!

Thanks for stopping by, hope you enjoyed,

~ Penny

Sunday Photo Fiction – There’s A Dragon on my Bedpost!

Photo Prompt for This weeks Writer’s Challenge:

90-12-december-7th-2014 (1)

photograph © Alastair Forbes

My Entry:

Dragon On My Bed Post

Briefly opening my eyes, I rolled over on my side and considered staying in bed longer. After all it was Sunday.  Dozing off, I heard a loud cough and a caustic voice which had me reopening my eyes and sitting up in bed with pounding heart.

“Would you mind, terribly, waking up, I’m getting bored sitting here.” The creature attached to the voice said.

There at the foot of my bed, sitting atop one of the bedposts was a miniature dragon, a surly look on his face.

I stared, rubbed my eyes and stared again.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m real.” He responded to my obvious expression of disbelief.

“Um, you’re a dragon.” I said incredulously.

“He speaks and has some intelligence,” was the dragons reply.

“Wh … what are you doing here … are you real?” I asked.

“Hmm, I spoke too soon,” the dragon added. “Yes I-am-real, you’re talking to me aren’t you? And I’m here doing penance for something I shouldn’t have done, so I have to stay with a human for twenty four hours. My punishment.”

“Staying with me is a punishment?” I asked.

“You have no idea,” he said. A great deal of derision in his voice.

“Why me?” I asked.

“Why not?” He answered with a smirk.

“Why Earth, then?” I said, continuing to ask what I thought were fair questions upon finding a dragon in your bedroom.

“Because this is the worst place the Committee for Criminal Offenses could come up with on short notice.”

“Earth the worst place, ah, come on now,”  I said, preparing to defend my home planet.

“Gee let me see …” He held up one of his claws and ticked off each point he made. “Well, you not only kill each other out of hatred and greed, but you consume far more than you should and are systematically killing off other life forms on your planet and…”

“Okay, okay,” I sighed. “You’ve made you’re point.” Changing the subject I said, “So you have to stay here for 24 hours?”

“Yeah, 24 lousy hours. Say you don’t happen to have a cigarette on you … well not on you but… do you smoke?” He asked, looking hopefully around the room.

“No, you can get lung cancer from smoking,” I answered.

“Dragons can’t.”

“Oh okay, and no I don’t have any cigarettes. So why are you in trouble?”

“For smoking.” He replied.

“That’s a criminal offense?” I said.

“Yeah, just one cig. and my fire breathing capabilities go out the window. I become useless in the defense of my lair, not enough flame left to even light a cigarette.”

“Well I can see where that would be bad. So do you have a name?” I asked.

“Yes, yes I have a name. You have a name don’t you? Of course I have a name!” He was back to being rude and surly again.

“I’m called Puff, I’m Puff the magic dragon and don’t say a word about that stupid song. I’m still living that one down … frolicking? FROLICKING? Dragons don’t friggin’ frolick.”

He let out an irritated sound with a blast of steam and said, “The next time I sneak a smoke …” He paused but I could see he was really worked up so I kept my silence as he finished with …“I’ll make gosh darn sure no one can see me. Oh, just go back to sleep.”

“Earthlings!” He muttered, sticking his head under his wing, steam seeping out.

*

For more information about Sunday Photo Fiction and how you can enter click here for the details. Alastair, the host with the most will take you through the steps. And, while there, be sure to click on the little blue guy for more short stories by some great writers!

Thanks for stopping by, hope you enjoyed,

~ Penny

Sunday Photo Fiction: Troubled Waters Bridge!

89-11-november-30th-2014

photograph © Alastair Forbes

 

Photo prompt of a bridge going over a small river:

 

Not my usual gig.

I’m a detective. Wat (pronounced watt, short for ‘Waters’) Allen Bridge, my name. ‘Wat’ a nickname I got as a kid who loved being in the water more than anything else.

Anyway, I would have turned this gig or job down, except the money was too good, I was down to my last sawbuck and then there were the usual enticements; gorgeous sexy broad in fear for her life, hidden stash of cash, mob involvement … yada yada yada.

Like I said, all the usual we P.I.’s get our kicks out of … with one exception. The fish bowl.

Lily, that’s the broad’s name, came in carrying a fish bowl with obligatory goldfish, mermaid, fake sea grass and a closed miniature treasure chest sitting on some gravel inside. The water swishing along with the dame as she walked over and set the bowl on my desk.

‘What’s with the fish bowl, doll?” I asked.

She explained. According to his will, inside the closed treasure chest were a portion of the remains of her deceased husband. Not missing a trick I said, “Yeah if his remains are in there, he’s definitely deceased!” She wasn’t amused. She told me that inside the remains, inside the treasure chest was a key. A key to the location of a million dollars.

The problem was she couldn’t bring herself to open the miniature chest and dig through her husband’s remains to get the key. Which I could understand being a sensitive guy, but a million smackers is still a million smackers and for what I was being paid, no prob. I could get my fingers wet and open the sucker… or so I thought.

But the more I thought about it, well it kinda’ started to bother me too. Putting my fingers inside his remains just seemed, well, weird.

So here we sit staring at the fishbowl. I am troubled.

*

Hope I made you smile, at least a little bit!

For more information about Sunday Photo Fiction click here for the details. Alastair will be your capable and caring guide. And, while there, be sure to click on the little blue guy for more short stories by some great writers!

Thanks for stopping by, have a great Sunday and week ahead,

~ Penny

Sunday Photo Fiction: Formation of stars – fantasy style

GEDSC DIGITAL CAMERA

photograph © Alastair Forbes

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He gazed at the formation of icicles. The first two stars were shaping up nicely but the third one, he was having some problems with that one. Well great! This meant another trip. Another one of those long and lengthy and wearisome trips. Sighing, he grumbled, Ah well, best be on my way.

Retreating back inside his remote mountainside cabin, he grabbed a few essentials, placing them carefully into his knapsack, all the while figuring in his head how long the trip would be and what to take. He thrust ancient arms into a thick overcoat, hung his loaded knapsack over his shoulder and then pulled on heavily padded gloves. He was ready for his trek down the mountain.

Another sigh as he started on his way. Just a few feet from the cabin a soft whine to his left stopped him in his tracks. He smiled, turning towards the sound. “Hey Prince, my friend, in my hurry I almost forgot you fella.” The wolf smiled, a wolfish type of grin on his dark muzzle and trotted up beside him.

“You up for a trip?” The wolf cocked his head and stared directly back at him.

“Yeah, me neither, best get this over with though. I need that third star. You know what time of the year it is?” As if in agreement the wolf headed off down the mountain.

The two made good time together, stopping only for quick bites of dried food and brief resting spells before moving on. At last they came to the city.

The wolf left him just at the edge of the forest clearing. He continued on into the city. It was night time so fewer people to notice the stranger, but around him an extra shroud of darkness, assuring no one did. Making his way to the outside of a high-rise apartment building, in a very run down section of the city, he climbed the fire escape until  reaching the forth floor. Peering inside the dirty cracked window he saw a mother singing a lullaby to a small child. He waited patiently for her to finish.

When her song was over she kissed the sleeping child gently and closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer that all would be well. The essence of her pure and loving thoughts made its way across the room, passing through the window crack and into the small container he held carefully in his hands. Once the vapor was inside, he stoppered the bottle, placed it back inside his rucksack, and then climbed down the stairs, walked through the city and out into the forest where the wolf waited. The wolf looked expectantly at him.

“Yes,” I’ve got it.” He said to the wolf. “So easy to find. Just follow the trail of goodness and honest caring.” They made their trip home and upon arrival he carried the vessel, filled with the essence of love, over to the icicles.

As he poured the vapor over the third icicle, the ends of the icicle formed into a third star. “Yup that oughta do it.” He said to the wolf. “They’ll be up in the sky in no time, glowing brightly.”

“With so much open space in the heavens …” he said later that evening to his friend the wolf, as they sat gazing up at the star lit sky in contemplation of life, “… it’s a good thing love is still to be had. I don’t know how we’d make our new stars without it.”

space

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Yes, another longer short story (that sounds silly doesn’t it). Hope a few of you enjoyed, however! Sorry it isn’t scary, or horrifying or sad, or depressing or in any other way negative. I figure real life seems to have a pretty good lock on that one right now, for many, so I went to a different place.

If you’d like to try your hand at writing a story for Sunday Photo Fiction where the photograph is the prompt for your imagination, click here for the details. Alastair will guide you along your way. And, while there, be sure to click on the little blue guy for more short stories by some great writers!

Have a great week ahead,

~ Penny