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Category: Photo Friday

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,

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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.

1,000 Words worth: 2017-20

Today, To find out more click here. I live over there.  Across from where you all catch the train, in your suits and ties and fancy back packs with padded shoulder straps in every color of the rainbow.  Except the rainbow is brighter.  Your colors are a rainbow through dark grey clouds. I up there now, watching through the slits in the almost-closed Venetian blinds.  There. Above Cafe Rustica.  Look up. Or look down.  I left a message for you.  Right there under you feet. Every night, or should I say morning, cuz it’s sometime after 1:00 AM, John comes…

1,000 Words worth: 2017-19

Each Friday,  To find out more click here. “What’s that?”  Ray pointed to the brick building and tugged at Marla’s sleeve. Marla tucked Ray’s outsider around her neck, tucked in a few rust-colored curls and tightened her goggle straps and air filter. “What’s what, hon? Can you be more specific?” “The rectangles,” Ray pressed her lips together and her eyebrows pulled into a straight line of concentration. “See, the lighter brick, and those little ledges under them.”  “Those are where the windows were,” Marla said. She checked Ray’s outsider again. “Someone bricked them up after The Event.  See the little…

1,000 Words worth: 2017-18

Each Friday,  To find out more click here. Marianne felt her heart as heavy in her chest as the sun looked in the sky.  She shielded her eyes and looked one last time at what she was leaving behind. “I shimmied up that pole when I was just ten,” she said. “My brother bet me a Baby Ruth I couldn’t do it.” “You never were one to back down from a challenge.” Marion threaded his fingers between hers, pulling her around and facing her east. “It’s behind you now.” “I rang the bell at the top.” Marianne loosed his grip and…

1,000 Words Worth: 2017-17

Each Friday,  To find out more click here. Dane is a street artist.  He calls himself an Anthropological Artists. Sure his art isn’t getting much attention yet, but wait until they see this masterpiece.  He works from 1:00 a.m. until just before rush hour to finish it. Dane slips on his tie and sports jacket, clicks his brush case into the briefcase he borrowed from Jack, pushes the record button, and situates his cell phone in his breast pocket in just the way he practiced. For sure Chicago commuters will take notice of his meticulous re-creation of paint chips, rust and…

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