A Memory Rejected

Photo by: Ronda Del Boccio

Evan was starting to regret bringing Julian to the museum. The boy just couldn’t relate. He pointed to a display of plants, “Julian, look! That’s grass.”

Julian squinted. “Is that an herb?”

“No! It used to grow everywhere. People used to walk on it or sit on it and read books.”

“Sit on it? Dad, that makes no sense.”

“It’s true. We played games on it too.”

Julian turned to his friend, Tyler, beside him. “It’s grass. My Dad says people sat on it.” He rolled his eyes.

Tyler shook his head. “It’s a shame when parents start going senile.”
Written for the Friday Fictioneers: https://rochellewisoff.com/2018/08/08/10-august-2018/

Author’s Notes:

Lyrics from Emerson, Lake, and Palmer’s “Karn Evil 9”

There behind a glass
Stands a real blade of grass
Be careful as you pass
Move along! Move along

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Bargaining Position

Photo by: Yinglan Z.

Shinzo was beginning to question his girlfriend. She seemed overly concerned with material things, and he suspected she loved his inheritence more than him. All this came to a head at the shoe shop.

Hiroko looked lovely in the red shoes, and she insisted she must have them. Unfortunately, the cost of the designer shoes made Shinzo choke.

“I don’t have my inheritence yet, you know,” he whispered.

“Not to worry,” grinned Hiroko. “I’m an expert negotiator.”

She slipped into the back with the salesman.

Quiet as a mouse, Shinzo followed them to observe.

Twenty minutes later, she returned, freshly perfumed and adjusting her hair. “I got a great price!” she exclaimed. “I told you I’m great negotiator.”

Scowling, Shinzo just nodded. “I expect your bargaining position sealed it.”

“It did!”

“Do you suppose diplomats assume the bargaining position of ‘bent over a table’ as well?”
Written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2018/07/30/fffaw-challenge-176th/

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A Matter of Taste

Photo by: Joy Pixley

David Wind Hawk hopped nimbly from rock to rock. He enjoyed being a tour guide, even though this marked the first time he got stuck with a politician and his lawyer.

David gestured. “And here is Vulture Rock. Navaho legend says anyone who sits in its mouth will be eaten.” David sat in the mouth, grinning. “It’s only a legend. I’ve guided hundreds of Wasichu* and all sat here safely.”

Howard Punter crawled up, wheezing, red-faced and sweating. He took David’s place in the Vulture’s mouth. “Hey take a picture, Stan!” he called. “I want the voters to know I’m an outdoorsman.”

Stan Greer wasn’t much better off than the Senator. Breathing hard, he reached for his cellphone. He hated doing things like this, but it was necessary to keep his sticky-fingered employer in office.

He pulled his phone out just as Vulture Rock’s jaws snapped shut, engulfing the politician.

“Aahh! You said it was safe!”

David was shocked. “That’s never happened before. I didn’t know it really was magical.”

“Any chance the stone bird would just spit him out?”

David shook his head. “This is Vulture Rock. Unlike voters, vultures like rotten things.”
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction: https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2018/07/28/sunday-photo-fiction-july-29-2018/

* Wasichu (pronounced: “Wah-See-Shoo”) is Native-American slang for White People.

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The Tradeoff

Photo by: Ted Strutz

The trio shuffled towards the boat. At their advanced age they proceeded slowly.

“It’s a shame Human bodies wear out so quickly,” said Bernice.

“True,” said Wade. “But we saw so much. The Pyramids, The Afghan markets.”

“The living bridges in India,” sighed Morgan.

“Retirement was fun,” said Wade. “But we’ll get younger, more vibrant human bodies on the island.”

“I’ll miss playing with my grandchildren,” sighed Bernice.

“As younger humans, we’ll have to get jobs and slave eighty hours a week,” said Wade.

“Deal with obnoxious bosses,” added Morgan.

Bernice stopped suddenly. “Can we get younger bodies next year?”
Written for the Friday Fictioneers: https://rochellewisoff.com/2018/07/25/27-july-2018/

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A Study In Karma

Photo by: Liz Young

Levi was desperately poor, living off the grid in the wilds of Appalachia. Some days, he didn’t eat, the hunting was so poor.

He was quite surprised when he found a serial killer in his wild boar trap.

He took a picture with an old Polaroid. Then he sent smoke signals to his neighbor 25 miles away, the one with a phone, and got to work.

The FBI arrived a week later, anxious to capture Harry the Heart-Eater. Unfortunately, he was gone.

A frustrated Agent Fredericks said, “What was he like?”

“Not bad,” said Levi. “Especially with ketchup and mustard.”
Written for the Friday Fictioneers: https://rochellewisoff.com/2018/07/11/13-july-2018/

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The Misfire

Photo by: wildverbs

On the tiny isle of Miklos, resorts sprouted up everywhere. The super-rich and the famous flocked to its opulent hotels and warm seas. Here, Niko plied his gold-digging trade.

He found her sitting in a beach chair, broad-rimmed hat flowing around her hair. A filmy, white dress fluttered in the breeze across the seat back. Birds flocked above her. Clearly, she was alone.

He approached from behind, letting his rich voice touch her. “The sea seeks its bliss in the beauty of your eyes. The wind longs to caress your skin. Your beautiful dress dances across your body, wondering at the glorious curves of you.”

He saw her twitch at his words, knowing she was touched by his practiced oratory. He drew near to her.

“Even the white birds flock to be close to your beauty.”

As he stepped next to her, she removed her hat.

“I’ll tell my wife you like her dress,” said Frank, lounging against the dress and scratching at his beard. “And I’m pretty sure the seagulls after my fish & chips.”
Written for: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2018/07/09/fffaw-challenge-173rd/

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Photo by: J Hardy Carroll

After Officer Moynihan started walking his new beat, crime rose for about two weeks. The crooks knew he had a prosthetic leg, and they figured he could never catch anyone.

Unknown to them, Moynihan was a world-class sprinter before his accident. Even with the prosthetic, he still ran faster than most everyone, but that wasn’t the worst of it for the bad guys.

After the third purse-snatcher in a day entered the station, in cuffs with a bootprint upside his head, the truth was revealed.

It’s just that no one expected his artificial leg had a boomerang feature.
Written for the Friday Fictioneers: https://rochellewisoff.com/2018/07/04/6-july-2018/

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