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Category: Photo Friday

1,000 Words worth: 2017-28

On Friday, I like to take an ordinary photo of something I’ve seen during the week and create a bit of flash fiction.  I call it 1,000 words worth, because,  you know, a picture is worth…. For more information, click here. Mother Goose never thought she would end up like this. Imprisoned and forced to perform at the will of the State. “It’s not a political statement,” she hooted, looking down her nose a Robin. “Defamation of character,” tweeted Robin, popping around in front of Mother Goose’s prison cell. “You spoke the truth about Bo Peep, and that kid who…

1,00 Words worth: 2017-27

On Friday, I like to take an ordinary photo of something I’ve seen during the week and create a bit of flash fiction.  I call it 1,000 words worth, because,  you know, a picture is worth…. For more information, click here.   I got on the “L,” same as I do every afternoon at 4:29 PM. On 35th Street, by LaSalle High School, not too far from where the Sox play. At that time of day, at that stop, there’s hardly anyone on the train when I get on. The crowd comes later, as we approach The Loop. Students at…

1,000 Words worth: 20017-26

On Friday, I like to take an ordinary photo of something I’ve seen during the week and create a bit of flash fiction.  I call it 1,000 words worth, because,  you know, a picture is worth…. For more information, click here.   There was something about the way the sunlight dappled and danced on the sidewalk that lifted John from his melancholy. Sure he was alone now, but that could change in a heartbeat. The end of summer usually marked the beginning of a grey cloud shifting into John’s heart and mind.  Autumn was when his grandfather died.  Autumn was…

1,000 Words worth: 2017-25

Joyce did yoga every evening on the beach. It was harder than you might think.  The shifing sand underfoot, the undulating horizon, and the occasional gusts challenged even the best yogis’ balance. That was just the start for Joyce.   The tweee of the gulls, the frenzied scurry of sandpiper, and the occasional soft-shell crab, snipped and peeled her concentration.  The own internal chatter refused to quiet: unending to-do lists, what-if, and when-is, snagged her heart center and toppled her tree pose. That’s when she saw the bottle. And the note, of course.  The bottled washed in and out with…

1,000 Word worth:2017-24

On Friday, I like to take an ordinary photo of something I’ve seen during the week and create a bit of flash fiction.  I call it 1,000 words worth, because,  you know, a picture is worth…. For more information, click here. Last night, as I fell asleep, a memory from 1st grade came crashing in full Technicolor into my consciousness.  It’s been on my mind all day.  So..  Here goes.  A bit of flash fiction from a memory pop. I’ll leave it to you to decipher which parts are memory and which are fiction.   Betty karate chopped the clenched…

1,000 Words worth: 2017-23

Each Friday, To find out more click here. “Yes, this is exactly the way I found the apartment when I got home from work.” Joyce saw a flicker of red from the corner of her eye and tuned toward the window.  The male cardinals vied for position at the bird feeder—one at the feeder, one in the Forsythia, and another a few feet from there in the Nanny-berry.  Two females foraged on the ground under the feeder. “And you didn’t move anything?” “No. But I told you that already.” Joyce glanced the name pinned above the officers badge. “Look, Officer…

1,000 Words worth: 2017-21

Each Friday,

To find out more click here.

Jane was a plain girl, with a plain name. She came a plain family, who lived in an exciting city, full of exciting people who did exciting things.

Jane’s family lived by the motto, “turn right whenever possible, and avoid oncoming traffic at all costs.”  In a word or two or three, Jane’s family was ordinary, safe, and predictable.

Jane, on the other hand, sensed that she was destined for extraordinariness and she was definitely not going to blend into the background. Perhaps it was her her hair that fell to her shoulders in golden waves. That is, when her mother wasn’t watching to make sure she kept it under a sensible hat.  Perhaps it was her lips, as red as rubies from the day she was born.  Perhaps was Jane’s determination, an unusually extraordinary trait in Jane’s family.

Jane decided that she would travel in cartwheels.  Everywhere she went, she cartwheeled there.  Sometimes leading with her left arm, sometimes leading with her right.  After all, she didn’t want one arm slack and wobbly, while the other was firm and muscular.  She allowed herself a skip or a hop, in the event she needed to turn.

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