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, pretty please.

And a few words on how your week’s going! Are you all right?

 This week’s Warmup Wednesday challenge in honor of the latest Facebook hoax: Include a character who makes a wrong decision about a warning.

Cicle Buche. CC3.0 photo by Manuguf.

Cicle Buche. CC3.0 photo by Manuguf.

4 thoughts on “Warmup Wednesday!

  1. Paranoia Noir

    I long for safety, you know.
    It’s such an unsafe world.
    Really it is.
    Danger lurks at every turn.

    The signs are everywhere.
    There was a time I couldn’t see them.
    Wouldn’t. Just wouldn’t.
    But I pay more attention now.

    You know what I’m like?
    I’m like a yeti, blending into the mountain snow,
    camouflaged in my fluffy white jacket,
    staying out of sight,
    you just got to be aware.

    That’s what most people forget, you know.
    They ignore the warning signs.
    They don’t see the devil skiing the slopes,
    looking for the fools
    who’ve wandered out of bounds.

    100 search parties

    I’ve had a fine week. My two entries in Micro Bookends garnered an honorable mention and a 2nd place. For that brief exquisite moment, I was in flash fiction heaven.


  2. Last post

    “Yes, sir. I swear it came out of nowhere!”
    “That right?”
    I looked again at the smashed skidoo. The bent sign. Acres of empty snow in every direction.
    He watched me. Doubt pulling at his face.
    There was a question he was begging me not to ask.
    I took a breath. Thinking only of the burden of paperwork I was shovelling my own way. “Henry. What are the terms of your parole?”
    He watched at me for too long. I could smell the scotch already.
    “Out of nowhere,” he repeated, eyes brimming with fresh tears.
    I hate this job sometimes.


  3. Seeing Stars

    ”You can’t go down that run!”

    “Can’t you read the warning sign; it says danger in plain English!”

    “Oh come on now Larry, you can barely balance on your own two feet some days. Stick to the beginner runs”

    That last nag was just a little too much. Screw her I’m going.

    “Larry, what are…..!!!”

    Plant the pole. Shift the weight. Get the edge of the ski to dig in. Nice, I’ve got this, whoa!


    Meh, this isn’t so bad, the snow isn’t that hard.



    Oh well, I’d rather be seeing stars than listening to her nag.


  4. Welcome Mat
    100 words

    We tried everything.
    Summoned ominous blizzard-bloat clouds
    to heave through outcropped fangs,
    Shoved ice into toothy bulwarks,
    Overhung crags with taloned treachery.

    A few wayward climbers still trekked this way
    Only to perish in webs of fractured ice,
    Frozen track crumbling under truculent crampons,
    They tangle in webs of fractured ice.
    Spider chill slow-drains heat through brittle black skin,
    Tiny warmth glacier-blooms.

    It’s never enough.
    They just trickle upwards, grapple and hook,
    Feeble spots of life scraping the escarpment.
    Then, someone thought to erect the sign.

    Nothing like overt warning to lure the intrepid
    In droves.

    Ah, sated at last.

    Sleep deprivation as pre-schooler adjusts to pre-school. Night tantrums are a real hoot. I should start bringing my laptop out to the car (where we’ve been taking her so its relative sound-proofedness keeps her from rousing the entire city). Parental karma for coasting through the first years with an infant who slept through the night. More tea.


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