Warmup Wednesday!

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 please share a few words on how your week’s going! We’re nosy that way.

 This week’s Warmup Wednesday challenge: Include a lost thing or person.

Post-tornado Mayflower, Arkansas. CC2.0 photo by Carol von Canon.

Post-tornado Mayflower, Arkansas. CC2.0 photo by Carol von Canon.

73 thoughts on “Warmup Wednesday!

  1. Pingggggggg


    Holy mother of projectiles. My chubby little baby-fatted calf of a body is zipping though the agitated air as if I had been shot out of a cannon.

    My mother who had been cuddling me way too tight went flying out of our kitchen and landed on Sam Butcher ‘s old mattress which the swirling mess of a storm had conveniently whapped into our yard.

    Thanks, Sam!

    Me, I continue doing unintended back flips, ass over diaper, bounce off of a flying sheep, and come crashing down in a turnip patch.

    Man, just my luck. I hate bloody turnips.

    100 flying sheep
    We had a lovely 9 hour music festival on Denman on Sunday as well as some fine local food. Loved the oyster burger.
    Had a couple of flash fiction wins, always a tasty treat.


  2. The dragon (word count 100)

    The dragon swept into the village burning everything in sight. It had a score to settle.

    Unclipping her seatbelt, Portia jumped from the car. Her daughter was somewhere in the fire. She headed into the smoke. Flames shrieked and sucked at the air like a vacuum cleaner on steroids. Her eyes smarted. Spinning embers fell spreading like liquid through the grass.

    A policeman yelled, “Lady, get out—now.”

    Portia ran on calling her daughter until she came upon a clearing without smoke. Pausing for breath, she looked around. Her daughter sat under the dragon’s wings chatting with it.

    She collapsed.


  3. Seek and Ye Shall Find
    100 words.

    Margo looked at the devastation around her and began organizing the chaos around her. Salvageable things went to a pile on the left, the rest into the trash.

    She worked for an hour, before approaching Andrew, sitting there stunned.

    “Hey,” she said as she bumped him with her knee. “You gonna help?”

    He looked up at her almost startled and then nodded numbly. When he finally got to his feet, he shook his head and set to work.

    After a few minutes, Margo sighed.

    “What?” Andrew snapped.

    “Dude, you’ve got to be less destructive when you can’t find your wallet…”


    Another busy week. It’s work, inspections, classes… youth fair… writing 🙂 Hope all are well!


  4. 100 Words


    Sylvia wanted a cigarette, and though she’d been on the wagon for a month, she hedged her resolve with an emergency stash in the kitchen. Just in case. She looked under a pile of wood.

    “My cabinets,” she said softly. They were new, installed the week before by her nephew. Such a nice boy. All she had to do was pay for the wood and have a pitcher of sweet tea waiting for him.

    She saw a cigarette poking out from behind a twisted cabinet hinge. She carefully pulled it out of the debris.

    Matches, she thought. She’d need matches.

    Warren Baker


  5. Dining out (100 words)

    My heart flitters, as though a moth flutters inside. Christ, was that a heart attack? Need to breathe – stay calm. Was that normal? I feel fine, but that wasn’t normal – was it normal?

    Can’t eat. Can’t hold my fork! Just breathe through your nose.

    Apologise to Sarah. Well, go on! Do it!


    Jesus, you sound like you’re having a stroke! Stop scaring her! Pull yourself together – keep breathing! Fingers are clamping up – body’s tingling. Pins and needles all over. My mind’s a tornado. Got to keep calm.

    I’m fine.

    “Tim? Are you ok?”

    I’m losing it – I’m losing it.

    Week’s going well; I’m gearing up for my first ever Flash Friday. And I’ve recently been nailing some editing on my first draft novel, feeling productive!


    100 words

    It’s our anniversary. We sang mirthfully.
    “I have climbed the highest mountains…only to be with you…”

    Twelve moons after, in a convalescent home, I’m showing him a portrait of the diner we were when the tornado hit—my futile, weekly self-introduction ritual for the past fifty-one weeks. That he remembers who I am is all I’m looking for. Damn retrograde amnesia.

    Inexplicably, the overhead speakers in the lounge ease out a tune. Our song! The sting behind my eyes births a torrent of tears when he sings along with U2:

    “…but I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.”


  7. The Dragon Fire Tornado of 2015; a force of nature. Well that was the beginning of it, lost everything we did. Again. Had the smarts to rebuild differently that time. Eco’d out and dug in, burrowed, re-purposed, oh yeah, living poor had made us resourceful, made us tough.

    All was well until Diana turned up, skinny and bleeding, one winter’s day. Ever see the destruction one young girl can cause? Broke hearts she did, set the flame to all manner of old pain. Force of nature.

    2020, the year of Hurricane Diana, the year it all ended for us here.

    100 words
    This week: I haven’t got anyone’s name wrong, yet! A 3rd place win on a flash contest from last week has been a real boost. Booked a writing workshop for later in the month. Hopefully pushing my way out of a rather ‘flat’ phase.


  8. FFF WW 8/5/15
    Hosted Gallery Walk
    100 words
    Shoot. Where’d it go? Less than ten minutes, and I’m missing the key picture for group 5!
    Window? Unscored papers…
    Nope. Tomorrow’s materials? Aggggh! So many materials! No time!
    Breathe. You miss things when you freak out. Where would make the most sense?
    Checked the folder.
    Looked in my bag.
    Oh! Right! Picture! Copy room last week!
    Where are they? Breathe. Top drawer. Filing cabinet.
    Slowly. There! Perfect! Arrggh! 2 minutes!
    Tape! Table! To the door!
    Breathe. “Good Morning! You’ll find materials at each of your tables to preview our “Natural Disaster Unit.” Please dig right in with your notebooks.”

    **My week: Can you tell what my mind’s been on? Been doing school-related work out my ears for almost the whole summer thus far. I keep hoping to finish so I can get back to commenting- I miss reading all the entries! Now, back to school stuff! Who says teachers get the summers off? 🙂


  9. Paving Paradise
    Word Count: 100

    Two little girls
    tender feet
    giggles echo through the trees

    Tag! You’re it!

    Crackles and pops
    the girls dance around the falling ash
    campfire light aglow on sun burnt faces

    Bike rides and sword fights
    falls and bruises
    marshmallow wishes under the stars

    Summers were once magical
    when time seemed to stop
    preserving memories in its humid haze

    But childhood comes to a screeching halt
    as adulthood comes crashing down
    like a wrecking ball

    Paradise laying crumpled on the grass
    forgotten memories scattered
    on once sacred ground

    Soon to be discarded
    paved over
    glass and steel to take it’s place


  10. @colindsmith

    “Are we there yet?”

    My eye caught the sign: three miles to Havenville. A cheer went up from the back seat. Two weeks ago they couldn’t get away fast enough. Our annual hundred mile trip to the beach had been anticipated with new swimsuits, lists of places to eat, and loaded Kindles.

    But two weeks is about long enough to feel the heart-tug of home. Kelly and Jonah were ready for their own beds, their friends, and their favorite TV shows.

    Of course, we missed the news.

    The car went deathly silent as we entered the tornado-ripped remains of Havenville.
    How’s my week going? Pretty well, thanks. Getting caught up on reading, was a finalist in Janet Reid’s flash fiction contest, made the Wall of Flame for the fourth month, and I actually came up with a story for Warm-Up Wednesday. I think that all counts toward a good week. 🙂


  11. @firdausp
    I watch her walk towards my table and suddenly I find myself falling apart. My head comes off, rolls under the neighbouring table, lies on its right cheek. So now I have a skewed view of the world. My hands drop off and my legs find themselves tangled. I’m suddenly a heap of arms and legs.
    She is close now. I ‘pull’ myself together. I hope I’ve put everything in the right place. Foot in the mouth would be aweful.
    “Is this seat taken?” She asks politely. Is she talking to ME!
    I think I have lost my words too.


  12. Invasion of the Camper People

    They came from the skies, fat white bodies dropping from the heavens to crush and kill.
    My lifemate twined his supple twigs through mine, a weaving of strength and solidarity, but the impact was too great. As the sap burst from his splintered trunk, he shook his golden leaves in a final shedding, then toppled towards the Earth, showing his roots to the sky.
    I heard the dying screams of my sisters and knew that only one slim chance remained.
    Raising my branches in hope, I cast my seedlings to the same wild winds which brought their parents’ doom.



  13. Miley Cyrus Made It
    100 words

    “He came in like a wrecking ball,” Olivia sang, loudly, over the wreckage.

    “Is now really the time?” Her mother looked at the piece of debris in her hand, then placed it back on the ground.

    Olivia jumped from one drywall-mountain to another. “What else can I do? Lift up our destroyed house piece by piece? Not going to change anything. Plus, he came in like a wreeecking ball!”

    “Well, you are certainly not mentally traumatized. Upside of having a teenager.”

    “Why would I be traumatized? You made it, I made it, Miley Cyrus made it. That’s all that matters.”

    My week has been mighty slow, to be honest. Waiting for Friday and a good “sleep-in” but I can’t complain. Instead I’ll pass the time by reading lovely flash fiction pieces by you all 🙂


  14. EF-2

    The tornado has a number–it’s an EF-2, as if that makes sense of what happened. The family emerges from the basement,  sneakers crunching on broken glass. The stairway to the bedrooms leads nowhere, now.

    Dad holds the kids  close, as they stare at the sky in the living room. Mom fumbles in the kitchen. There’s the teapot still on the stove, as if nothing happened.

    The tornado has a cloud of toys and sofa cushions, lawnmowers, flat screen TVs.  The street is flattened. The family  looks for  their neighbors.

    Meanwhile, 150 miles east, a woman finds a wedding photo on her driveway…

    Tornadoes are so destructive and surreal. I had to write a story…


  15. What’s Left?

    The kids are waiting. We should get back.

    My temper. It’s gone.

    What, again?


    Kicking the rubble. Very effective.

    It’s here somewhere. Probably slipped through the cracks—like your marbles.

    Humph, I lost those ages ago. And if you do find them, don’t tell me.

    I had it when we were going through the bookshelves.

    Maybe with the albums.

    I can’t–

    Ah, see? Tucked in with Kyle’s baby pictures. It’s not your temper.


    Person’s bound to lose heart over this. Don’t be embarrassed.

    You haven’t.

    A benefit of being marble-less. Now, come on, before I lose my patience.


    Selling off toddler stuff to make room for pre-school stuff. Half my collection of carriers, including the awesome robot one, gone. Diaper stash is next.


  16. Finality
    100 words

    I sat in numb silence, the movements and murmurs of those around me fading into the background of my awareness. The previous few days had been a maelstrom of emotions – fear, anger, loneliness, deep sadness, anxiety, regret, yearning for the end. Pulled in different directions, hammered by different obligations, multiple responsibilities, my nerves strung taut, waiting for that final twang that would break my fragile hold on emotional control and send me breaking into a thousand tiny pieces.

    I looked around at my family assembled in the bedroom, each grieving in their own way.

    “Good-bye Mom,” I whispered.


  17. Pizza Tonight, Not Chicken, a sequel
    It’s Collin again. Yes, I still schlep pizzas for Cosmic Stan’s Any Time Any Place Pizza and Catering. (Here, have a menu.) We deliver anywhere in space-time, causation is optional.

    The problem with tonight’s invoice is the delivery address, which keeps getting lost. Not like “not on file in the computer” lost. The destination is actually unreliable, never in the same place twice.

    Mockingbird Lane is the usual place to start looking. I watch sun and moon flickering while my reality-hopper searches up and down the space-timelines. Whoa, got it—the witch’s hut, strolling slowly along on its chicken legs.


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