Directions: Write a scene or an entire story of 100 words on the nose (no more, no fewer), inspired by this photograph. No judging. All fun. (Normal Flash! Friday guidelines regarding content apply.)
Don’t forget to add your Twitter handle & link to your blog, if you please.
And a few words on how your week’s going would be nice.
This week’s challenge: Emotional Rollercoaster! Start with one emotion and end with its opposite (eg start sad and end happy, or start happy and end sad).
Dylyce P. Clarke
Red Sky at Night
100 Words
I’d stood in the backyard tasting salty tears of anger. I wanted to hurl the rock clenched in my fist at the bike Daddy gave me the day he returned to his Navy boat and got lost at sea.
Mommy had hugged me and whispered, “Red sky in the morning sailors takes warning, red sky at night sailor’s delight. It means Daddy loves you, baby. Every time you see a red sunset, you’ll now he’s watching over you with delight.”
I’d dropped the rock and laughed, reaching with tear stained hands towards the sun.
I still smile at red sunsets.
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Love the anger/joy transition! and I really love that the happiness followed the MC through life.
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Tomorrow
(100 words)
Sarah stood in the backyard and let the warmth of the sun wash over her. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, the scents of flowers and freshly cut grass filling her nostrils. Birds chirped in the trees around her and the sound of her friend’s laughter echoed in her ears.
Sarah had embraced the dog days of summer, shirking responsibility and engaging in reckless folly whenever possible.
But nothing lasts forever, and as the sun slipped away, tomorrow’s ugly truth emerged.
Sarah let out heavy-hearted sigh as she realized that tomorrow was the first day of school.
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haha! the anguished sigh of children around the world!!!!
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Tanya the Terrific
(100 words)
Tanya had been afraid for a week now.
But it wasn’t usually that way. Tanya had always been a free spirit, flying around the neighborhood with her hair on fire. Often the fastest and most adventurous of the kids on the block, no challenge was too great or scary for Tanya the Terrific.
Tanya the Terrific rocked.
Until her father decided it was time to take the training wheels off her bike.
Tanya stared at the pink bike leaning against the tree and mustered up all the courage she could.
“Today,” she thought, “I shall ride you without training wheels.”
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Delightful set-up! It’s interesting how generational this is. My daughter is growing up with the balance bike generation. The big deal for them is making the move to pedals.
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This is brilliant. That important moment for a child. Love that you included the confidence she had with the wheels. I don’t don’t doubt she’ll get it back eventually.
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Really crazy about your MC’s name–“Tanya the Terrific” sounds just like a aspiring child illusionist would name herself!!!! I’m with Brian: huge moment for a kid. Another awesome capture of a universal moment.
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Patricia McCommas
100 words
The Edge of Tomorrow
Standing on the edge of tomorrow, Ashlynn watches the setting sun vanish from sight and another day buried in the dark of night. Sadness hovers.
“Don’t cry,” she counsels herself. Her petite body trembles; sadness descends. Her lips quiver.
“Come back,” she cries. “Please come back.”
A moment of silence.
Then, like clockwork, she remembers her daddy’s comforting words, “When someone dies, they’re never really gone. They sleep for the night, then rise each morning with the sun to give us light.”
And, like clockwork, Ashlynnn wipes the tears away and smiles. “Goodnight Momma. I’ll see you in the morning.”
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I see a theme this week! Like Dylyce’s story above, I love how your MC finds comfort in her parents’ gentle words. (And I love “edge of tomorrow” for a time of day. Really nice.)
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Thanks Rebekah. This is my first flash. All I could see with this picture is a grieving child rushing to tell her mother goodnight before she disappeared with the sun. It was fun.
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Tell Me About The Rabbits (100 words)
Deb loved all her pets. The dog had been her crib mate as a puppy. They tumbled together in the grass for two years before it was run over. The old barn cat was a mouser and only let Deb come up and pet its matted fur. It lived to be sixteen. Her two goldfish died. Deb was getting good at helping her friends go to heaven. Mounds of various size were just outside her backyard fence.
Deb received a pet mouse, Lenny, for her birthday present this morning. She petted it too hard. It would be the smallest mound.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
This week has been terrific! Spring has sprung on Cape Cod. March came in like a lion (record breaking snow) and out like a lamb (crocuses to beat the band!). It’s all good.
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arrrgh, the pain of losing a pet!!! Deb’s a brave girl. I really love the volumes of sadness you’ve buried in the tiny phrase, “Deb was getting good at helping her friends go to heaven.”
Spring here in the Shenandoah Valley is more at the nurseries than in our gardens yet, but seeing them even there gives me hope! Go, crocuses!
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Word Count – 100 excluding title
@susanOReilly3
Precious
Bitter, sad and lonely, how I feel most days but peace envelops me when she places her hand in mine. The war in my soul eases, every time. My divorce battle just begun but we’ve both already won. This darling dressed in pink, makes us both stop and think.
To have made something so beautiful we must at some time have worked, maybe we can again. She says Daddy and I smile, can’t help myself, and I see you in her. She’s opened my eyes, whether we finish or reconcile, we have got a most precious prize. Happiness envelops me.
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Love the internal rhymes, and what a beautiful transition into hope in the midst of a terrible, painful situation. Precious, indeed!!
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Thanks very much Rebekah glad u like cheers x
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Mommy said she’d find me–that no one could ever keep me away from her.
Before the knock came, we’d been snuggled on the couch. Mommy slept–she always slept—but I smelled her sweaty skin and touched her tangled hair. She was my mommy and I was her very best Poppy. I wasn’t really too hungry.
I didn’t know I’d get mommy in trouble if I answered the door. The lady with glasses looked familiar. I didn’t see the policeman behind her until he came inside and put handcuffs on my mommy.
I want my mommy. She needs me.
#
I’m glad to have found this group of writers! I love flash! Life is good—we are blooming for spring in Kentucky.
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Welcome, Sherry!! ohhhh goodness, your story chilled me. So sad, so awful, so disturbing. Very sweetly written.
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Thanks! Love the opportunity! I love flash!
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Such a lovely – sad – story. The child’s voice makes it more poignant.
Look forward to reading more of your stories – this Friday?
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Thanks! I hope to be a regular. I love flash!
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Countdown
When the dragons ripped into the sky above little Rosie, in despair everyone prepared for the end. Husbands and wives clung to each other; wayward children phoned their parents, and more than one head of state indulged in a private moment of regret.
“Three,” said Rosie.
When the dragons bathed the great cities of the world in flame, fighter jets took to the air in desperate defiance.
“Two,” said Rosie.
But when the dragons began tunneling into the Earth’s core to feed in molten rivers, Rosie smiled.
“One,” she said, her skin rippling blue.
And the Earth trembled with hope.
100 words
@postupak
Spring is here in truth–70 and full sun!!!!–and it’s glorious. Working out a way to take the kids to the park today; there’s something about this sort of day that demands swings and slides and, possibly, ice cream. Happy Wednesday!
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Wow, this blew me away as if I were a character in the story. Hell to hope. Now that’s a swing in emotions. Loved it.
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Countdown from Armageddon to redemption, a theme as old as the Earth itself. Rebekah, I like it! Especially with Easter just around the corner.
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LEAF IT BEHIND
WC = 100 (04-01-15)
“The yard for you this week.” Mama quietly stated in consequence of my late-for-supper exploratory day. Fumes wafted off my already steamy, matted hair. And if smoke could exit my ears, then it was. Mama just couldn’t see it. She and Daddy had spanked into me the proper behavior when one feels extreme anger.
Taking my six-year-old hot coals with me to the front yard, I scanned my options. The bike, the geraniums, the pile of cap guns sans the caps.
Geranium leaf doll dressing. It would take me to a Lillipution world where I controlled and we all smiled.
++++++++
The IRS beckons, as does the great out of doors!
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HAHAHAHAHA! this read totally Uncle Remus to me. Pleeeeeeeeeease don’t throw me in the briar patch! So much anger for such a little tyke, but it sounds like she’s found a wonderfully creative way of dealing with it. Great story.
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Thank you so much!
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Love the anger being ‘hot coals’.
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Thank you!
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Great story. Love the ear plumes. IRS….beware of the ides of April…
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(100 Words, Excluding Title)
Day One
Leaves crunch underfoot, sun’s warmth pushes through the cool breeze. The sound of my breath, now inhaling, now exhaling, bears a surprising new intensity. Has the smell of grass and dirt always been so overwhelming?
I didn’t know it would be so hard to balance. Practice balancing on one foot, then the other, they said. But without eyesight, simple skills become challenges.
Mom’s calling from the house. Her voice betrays alarm that I have strayed so far, ten whole feet from the back door. Soon her alarm will once again give way to pity, and she’ll offer me a treat.
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Oh sad, but I think the girl will make it, seems a determined young lady.
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Thank you…I think she’ll make it also.
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Sibling Rivalry
@el_Stevie
Tilly froze beneath the eye’s furious glare.
“It’s watching you,” purred the cat on her shoulder.
“It knows,” hissed another, weaving through her legs.
Know? How could it know? Even she hadn’t known until she had come out into the garden that morning and seen perfect Jenny’s perfect bike.
It should’ve been hers. Mum promised.
Tilly’s hand, hot and sticky, curled around the nail that had been lying on the grass, begging to be picked up and used. Her cheek flushed guiltily. The eye still stared at her, branded her would-be guilt for all to see. She dropped the nail.
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Forgot to say anything about my week. Last day tomorrow at work and it’s a school without kids (inset)! Easter break for 2 weeks so visiting family, and hoping to finish (or even start) other 2 #flashdog entries.
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As a child I used to have dreams about an omnipotent eye – you stirred up memories in the most terrifying way: “…branded her guilt for all to see.”
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Baby Steps
by Alissa Leonard
@lissajean7
100 words
The sky had cried torrentially since Papa died. It seemed wrong for the sun to shine.
The grass squished under her feet, still a sodden mess – just like Cindy inside.
She reached the patio and sat criss-cross-applesauce, not noticing the muddy footprints bleeding onto her pants.
She placed the shell she’d found in a sunbeam to study it. The markings were beautiful, but she thought it was like her, empty inside.
Until a snail peeked its head out. She stared in amazement as the snail righted itself and began to crawl forward.
Painfully slowly.
But forward.
Maybe she could too.
I’m not sure if I did enough of the opposite emotion at the end, but I’ve got to run. I get to spend the evening with my sister and her family. I’m glad I finally got back to FF for a bit (even if it’s not on a Friday!) because I miss flash. 🙂
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Just the right touch of moving on at the end I think. 🙂
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Paul John Welsh
@welshpauljohn
‘Rich and Poor’ (100 words)
– Stole that bike from Claire, she’s rich. Nobody looking, I was always looking at that bike. Claire never rode it! I wanted to, always, sit on the saddle, and smile. It’s mine now; I’ll punch anyone trying to steal it from me! We’re poor and Claire isn’t, she’s rich, so says my Dad, all the time, he shouts a lot about rich people – “The Rich! Selfish thieves, they got money cos they steal my money! Let justice be served on them Lord!” I like my Dad, but my Mum makes me feel guilty when I steal because I’m poor. –
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Always a gap between haves and have-nots; at least feeling guilt means she knows she’s done wrong.
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Hidden Treasures
Margaret Locke (margaretlocke.com or @Margaret_Locke)
100 words
(Anxiety / Happiness – hey, they’re opposite for me a lot!)
Where was it?
Mariah tore through the clothes on her floor, the books on her bed, the stuffed animals in her dresser.
Nope.
She threw on her favorite dress, the one with Cat Women on it, and raced down to the kitchen.
Her brother stuck his tongue out at her, but she didn’t stop. Where had she left it?
She dashed into the back yard.
Aha! Basket found. She scooped up a handful of chocolate eggs, but stopped dumb upon spying the pink bike. Her mouth fell open.
“Thank you, Easter Bunny!”
The chocolates fell from her hand, happily forgotten.
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I never remember to tell about my week. Well, this recovering chocolate addict has fallen face-first into the chocolate candy this week. Forgive me. Kids are home, and my time is not my own.
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Oh, the angst of losing track of chocolate as a youngster! You captured the moments.
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Blame Game (100 words)
Deb loved her new pink bike. It was the type she had always dreamed of when she closed her eyes and leaned back swinging wildly on her swing set. She could go places on her bike, not just back and forth.
It had been a summer of back and forth. Her parents divorced and they arranged shared custody. Every other weekend. Back and forth.
With her new bike Deb was free. Her bike was free. Deb figured if she was bad enough to make her parents divorce (she was sure of it), she was bad enough to steal a bike.
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I did not expect the “steal” at the end. From freedom with steel to the propensity to steal and possibly end up behind steel. I like this!
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The dying rays of afternoon sun fell across Lissa’s bike, pink and pristine as the day she’d gotten it. Daddy wheeled it out from behind the shed and Lissa’d squealed. Her first Big Girl Bike, complete with an Elsa helmet and an Olaf horn. She couldn’t ride it – not without training wheels – but she played with it every day, pushing it around the yard and singing to herself.
She’d never ride it now, of course, not after the day Daddy had left the closet door ajar, the one where he kept his gun. Turned out the Elsa helmet wasn’t bulletproof.
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“The dying rays of…” to “…helmet wasn’t bulletproof.” Excellent, succinct.
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Refuge (100 words)
@brett_milam
Outside, the sunshine didn’t speak. The clouds drifted silently across the sky. The trees ached a little, but the wind was persistent on their bark.
Inside was loud, where the rage cascaded against my eardrums with violent shrieks. Like the time Heather’s cat, Loony, was hit by a car and wailed and wailed in the street until her dad came running.
Here, I could lay my head against the flush grass, gaze at the sky and tune out what happened behind closed doors and locked windows.
This place was open and free and endless. And quiet, yes, in its way.
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Every child needs a safe place, a “Refuge,” whether it’s out of doors as you describe, or a quieting place to facilitate inner peace. I liked your imagery in “the rage cascaded against my eardrums.”
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Thank you, DJ!
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Did you know that if you can’t picture something happening, it isn’t going to? It’s true. Like right now, I can’t picture Grandma coming around the corner in her car and parking out front. Even though I was so excited last night I couldn’t sleep, and I got up early. I can’t see her face. That means she’s not coming. She’s decided she doesn’t like us any more, or she’s too busy. Or, she’s been eaten. I’m going to go tell mom to call, and make sure Grandma is alright. Because I can’t see her at all. Now I’m scared.
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This week: Silverwood’s paperback book birthday! AND, I’ve signed the contract for the second book. Which means, coffee and Honey Nut Cheerios binges while I get the manuscript ready by June. Rock!!!
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I’m on p82 and having a BLAST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Happy birth-day, Silverwood!!!!!
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The Exchange
Girls? Yuk! What is all the fuss about? My friends have suddenly started noticing them. Before we’d throw things and call them names, and now it’s all hair gel and nice jeans to try and impress them. Well they can forget about me, I’m never going to be interested in girls. I’ll stick with my video games.
Of course, there’s that new exchange student from Japan. I bet she has all kinds of new games. Plus she’s pretty cute. I guess if she asked me out I might say yes. Maybe I should ask her first, before anyone else does….
100 words
@todayschapter
Another busy week. My team filled my desk drawers with paperclips today for April fools, which was actually pretty funny aside from the fact that no-one came to clean up afterwards, so now I have a thousand paperclips all over my office!
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Humorous take on the young adolescent mind: the approach/avoidance of someone of the opposite sex.
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Like Mother Like Daughter (WC 100)
She had locks of gold and a tendency to wander like her mother. Her parents always found her. Mom would cry but dad promised that she would never get far on toddler legs.
Fearless screams were brought out by a bicycle and sunshine as she escaped an eagle eye.
She rode until lost. Coming upon a house, she knocked looking for her mommy. No one was home.
Behind the house, a roughhewn table with three rough chairs was crowned by bowls of porridge; one for each chair.
A taste, a nap, and then fearful screams: the Behr family came home.
——————————————————-
Beautiful weather in the 80’s, enjoying it by with my grandbaby telling stories. .
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The Goldilocks effect. Clever!
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https://emmaleene.wordpress.com/
@Emmaleene1
The Trap
I wriggle through the gap. Bramble’s curved fangs snag on my ponytail. I don’t care. I am about to collect the first nut dropped this season from the magic wishing tree.
I watched the little knot grow, couldn’t wait for it to drop. This morning I could smell the ripeness on the breeze. Arrived to find it gone from tree, snuggled with leaves on ground.
I scoop up the tiny wooden brain, relish the stolen texture.
Then I see Julia’s bike. My best friend missing for a year now. Shadows skulk in shrinking light. Someone’s behind me.
I’m trapped, missing.
100 words excluding title.
I’m a bit late but couldn’t resist this intriguing photo!
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Reblogged this on emmaleene and commented:
Here’s my story, for Flash Friday’s Warm up Wednesday
The Trap
I wriggle through the gap. Bramble’s curved fangs snag on my ponytail. I don’t care. I am about to collect the first nut dropped this season from the magic wishing tree.
I watched the little knot grow, couldn’t wait for it to drop. This morning I could smell the ripeness on the breeze. Arrived to find it gone from tree, snuggled with leaves on ground.
I scoop up the tiny wooden brain, relish the stolen texture.
Then I see Julia’s bike. My best friend missing for a year now. Shadows skulk in shrinking light. Someone’s behind me.
I’m trapped, missing.
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Carefree to trapped and missing; scary stuff. I liked your imagery in “Bramble’s curved fangs” and “snuggled with leaves on ground.”
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