Robin Hawke


Penned
November 18, 2011, 4:53 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: , ,

He was a weasel. My boyfriend. He slithered whenever I wanted to talk. I asked for help with the dishes—he left with a grin and something important to do. Things were so bad, I pondered a Dear Weasel letter. But, he’d see me through another fit before sidling, a fistful of hair left behind.

The coarse brown hair reminded me of something. I found a riding stable, rented a horse, followed a trail, and plucked a long tail. The weasel hair, the horse hair and one piece of bamboo made the perfect calligraphy brush. The ink was my ire.

Flash Friday

Click to read entries and see photo prompt...



Footsteps
November 11, 2011, 4:52 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: , ,

Jay began her hike. The terrain was rough, littered with refuse. Too patient to complain, she slogged through the heat, one foot in front of another. The soles of her feet itched as if she walked through battery acid, a possibility.

She held a stick. Down it went to the ground, a percussive strike before her light footfalls disturbed the silence. The long hike took aeons. On her trail, tiny parasites poked out of small holes in the ground: fragile, greedy life.

Jay paused her hike, slept while the small plants consumed. She woke, slightly refreshed, to grab her stick.

Flash Friday

Click to read entries and see photo prompt...



Quarantine
November 6, 2011, 3:14 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: , ,

Empty—his thoughts worn out empty blather, he whistled flashes of songs. Old stuff. James rolled over in bed, knocked the glass on the floor. The amber liquid leaked through the wide floor boards. He felt his rib cage constrict his heart. James began to panic. Familiar with the pressure, he rolled on his back, waited for the attack to dissipate.

Anxiety kept him in bed another day, except for occasional forays to the refrigerator. The dog. He threw on a robe, walked the dog through the  shaggy winter wonderland hired to inspire him. Beauty failed him; inertia claimed him.

I’m late with this…couldn’t get my act together until I realized flash writing must precede NaNoWriMo goals.

Flash Friday

Click to read entries and see photo prompt...



Steve
October 28, 2011, 3:16 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: , ,

Steve was the bold one; he hid an old stick of dynamite near the entrance to our clubhouse, our secret Keep Out Or Else. Later, I knew right where to hide the diamonds. Knew it like I knew the dusty path from Steve’s house to mine.

There’s a checkmark on my file, one that says I’ve paid twenty years to society. I wait, patient, drive home a year later. Jex Blake Road is gone—replaced with miles of  suburban cul-de-sacs and empty look-alike homes. And, they destroyed the abandoned mine—made it a lake. Hope Steve leveled someone.

Flash Friday

Click to read entries and see photo prompt...



Appearance
October 21, 2011, 3:46 PM
Filed under: All Writing Challenges | Tags: ,

The artifact topped the shrine in his studio, one marble in a growing collection. The orb inspired him.

Jason adjusted his flame, reached for a stick of white glass. When the glass glowed, became transparent, runny, his free hand dipped in green water, searched for the slimy mold; its contact with molten glass produced the enticing smell of burnt cherry. Next, his creation rode the edge of the flame in constant revolution, maintaining its spherical perfection while a scatter of colored glass melted smooth. The following day, Jason sandblasted his creation with coarse grit—until it became one more copy.

Flash Friday

Click to read entries and see photo prompt...