Lawn Darts for Gods

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. My story follows the picture prompt.

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PHOTO PROMPT – © Jean L. Hays

The Handly Cup Style finals of lawn darts was the Super Bowl of Godly sporting events. Both Zeus and his Indian counter part Indra had made it to the finals. Greece vs. India in the finals. The crowd was going wild in anticipation. On his final underhand toss Zeus had stuck the old junk car halfway into the ground inside the old NASCAR oval track. “Take that!” he thundered. Indra, never one to be intimated, tossed his highly colored junker into the air and it landed just inside of the one Zeus had just tossed. “Rematch” roared the wounded Zeus.

Bruce and Will

This post is written for Mondays Finish The Story. This is a unique flash fiction challenge where we are provide with a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. Our challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words and using the first sentence in bold below.

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© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

The Mayor and the town manager waved as their next victim approached.

Well they weren’t really victims.

The couple approaching was there to get married.

Jack, the town manager and local minister, always preformed the ceremony, and Matt, the Mayor of Sherman Montana was always the witness. Together they had performed over 146 marriages over the years.

As Bruce and Will approached they were a bit apprehensive about how they would be received in this part of the country. After all they reasoned that gay marriages were not a very common event here.

The event went off without a hitch. As Bruce and Will were leaving both the mayor and pastor wished them well.

“We wish you both happiness in your future together. May you be together as long as we have. We celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary tomorrow.”

Ponzi Gone Bad

This post is written for Sunday Photo Fiction. The challenge is to write a piece of fiction using ~ 200 words with the picture as your source of inspiration. My story follows the picture prompt.

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He sits looking out of his cell at the guard passing by. Its been a long and strange trip from Queens, New York to here in Butner, North Carolina. A very long way from making that first $5,000 working as a lifeguard and installing sprinkler systems. Now he spends his time making name plates for desks and doors in the prison work shop. But in between he was worth billions. And he  had all those celebrity friends. Where are they now?

He was truly shocked when the judge set his sentence at 150 years. Looking down at this prison smock he sees the number 6727-054. If the justice system has its way he will be looking at this same number until November 14, 2039.

What a family he thinks. He blames his parents for his wayward ways. After all they did get away with their crimes. He thinks of his wife and how the government stripped her of a fortune. He thinks of his sons. Now there is a terrible story. Together they are the ones who turned him in. Stupid kids. They thought they were being so honest and look what it got them. One takes his own life and the other dies of a rare disease.

He looks up at his cell mate in his bunk. Hell, he thinks, he doesn’t even know the word Ponzi!

Fear of Tunnels

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. The challenge: write a complete story, using the picture prompt below, in one hundred words or less. My story follow the picture below. Cheers!

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PHOTO PROMPT – © Kent Bonham

Waking up in the middle of the street in Strasbourg at three in the morning was not the type of vacation they had in mind. They had planned the rail trip for months. It wasn’t the Orient Express but it wasn’t like hopping a freight train in the U.S.

It was all part Gary’s rehabilitation. Poor guy was terribly afraid of dark enclosed spaces. This was their first practice run.

“Listen Gary, when a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the engineer.”

The Big Blow

This post is written for Mondays Finish The Story Challenge.  This is a unique flash fiction challenge where we are provided with a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. Our challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words. My story follows the picture prompt below. Other stories can be found by clicking on the link at the end of this post. Enjoy! 2015-06-22-bw-beacham “Hey boys, how ’bout y’all makin’ yer Ma some wind chimes?”

He always hated it when his mother talked like that. After all she was a college graduate.

Now she was out in Santa Fe, New Mexico at some old style hippie ranch trying her best to fit in with the locals. She was claiming she was from small town in Mississippi when she was actually from Scarsdale.

He knew why is mother needed those wind chimes. It would serve as a notice to would be visitors that dinner was over and that she was getting ready to let go with a big wind of her own. “Look out boys, those wind chimes are about to start  a little dance of their own. Wee doggies that sure feels good. Everybody be better off getting up wind of me right now.” God he hated it when his mother talked like that.     http://new.inlinkz.com/view.php?id=536225

Stairway To Heaven

This post is written for the Sunday Photo Fiction contest. The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to write a piece whether it is a story or poetry using the image as inspiration. My story follows the picture prompt. Other stories can be found  by clicking on the link at the end of this post.

The sun setting behind buildings

Leaving Michigan after a nasty divorce he had planned to make his new life in southern California. He had managed to pack everything he owned in a four by six u-haul trailer. No goodbye party was held for him.

Looking up at the sonoran desert sunset he thought that this was not where he envisioned he would begin his  new life. But his car thought this was the perfect place, as it had just died. Two thousand,  two hundred, and twenty three miles was when it decided to end its life. The sound of the hissing  radiator hose was the cause of death.

But he vaguely remembered another car. And a horrible sound of metal being torn apart… and the smell… the awful smell of burning flesh.

Who could he call for help?  Who would even here him?

Behind him he heard a voice. A very calm voice. A voice that sounded very comforting.

“Greetings. You’re right on time. The Boss will be very impressed!”

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