Prompt words: gaze scapegrace fin scram forti
Horoscope: a moment today will make you a hero!
Half marathon: I'm a gazelle!
...Silver my one millimoment.
Brother's audition: his cape graces boulder shoulders, regal Phantom rendition. In finale, baritone voice squeaks. Audience laughs.
My 'moment?' Punch them all in the suckers?
Job interview: nail it. "Thank you, sir," I close.
Candlelit proposal: girlfriend confesses moment of indiscretion, aka 'Shawn.'
Universe has dark humor.
11:58 PM, can't sleep. I text brother: beer fortification??
Phone gleams: sure. I'll postpone suicide
Bah-ha. Love his morbid jokes.
And, screw you, horoscope.
Midnight: Grab keys.
Brother flushes pills.
Prompt was this poem: Happiness by Jane Kenyon
[I won with this one, received IQ by Joe Ide as prize :) ]
Two saplings gaze into a pool.
“See my brawny branches,” says Oak, stretching.
“And my ample trunk,” Sycamore preens, digging roots into the Earth.
“Your bark’s like a fungus.”
“Your progeny’s the teats of a fox, who milked too long.”
Why fight? susurrates* Wind, joyriding between their leaves. What do you accomplish?
Ignoring Wind, Oak roars to his squirrel brigade, “Hurl my progeny at that blasphemous ogre!” Songbirds of Sycamore dive-bomb the squirrels, screaming back insults. War rages in the canopy.
Below, a beaver meanders into the glen. He builds his home.
Eventually, the silent stumps turn back into dust.
*[Originally, I couldn't find a legit present-tense verb for susurrus in time for the contest so used 'hisses' instead. I later found what I really wanted so changed it to what I have here.]
Prompt words: hope next year alot better
When my baby was a month, he colicked.
Exhausted, I held him.
When seven, he broke his arm skateboarding.
I rushed him to the hospital.
High school freshman year, he washed his hands, over and over.
I found him help and hope.
Tonight, University phone call: ICU, critical. I’m flying, hating her, praying.
My baby: ashen exterior, IV lines everywhere. Only the attacker dead, news blasts. A lot better than expected.
My hatred moves. After all, mine’s still alive. Exhausted, I hold him.
Hers isn’t. She can’t.
I weep. I’m sure she does, too.
Prompt words: proud horse dog spirit herd
[I won with this one! - received a copy of Melanie Sue Bowles' heartwarming DOGS OF PROUD SPIRIT]
Beardie: horsey face, shaggy hair, dog tags round his neck.
On good days, I give a dollar.
God bless, Sir.
Friday: usual herd of humans filing past, Beardie face down.
Does no one see? I touch his shoulder. Track marks, no breath. Spirit leaving.
Chest compressions. Call 911!
Sirens. Narcan, EMT shouts.
Bam! Into muscle. Beardie’s head jerks up, paramedics scatter. Beardie screaming, cursing paramedics by name.
I post proudly, Saved a man’s life today.
Monday: Beardie, usual spot. God bless, Sir.
No life saved yet.
I give ten bucks, then my hand. “I’m Michael. Want some breakfast?”
Prompt words: X Bone Devil Slip 100
Patient: Scarlet, 3-year-old female Labrador
Appointment: limping, ‘smells bad’
Days since first noticed: several, client very busy
Exam: fractured limb, metatarsal bone exposed, maggots
Veterinarian’s optimism that people are basically good, just uneducated: slipping
Prognosis: good with amputation
Client comments: expensive, euthanize
Client vehicle: Lamborghini
Estimated evilness of client: 95%
Discussion involving responsibility, rehoming, inappropriate situation to euthanize: >1 hour
Client’s displeasure: expected
Client’s concealed weapon: unexpected
Defense using oxygen tank to club client: reasonable
Fracture of client’s leg in skirmish: ironic
Accidental nature of sustained fracture: undetermined
Police notified: after appointments, full schedule, staff very busy
Scarlet’s recovery: 100%
Prompt words: Miff tiff sulk huff fluff
“Calvin! Whatchya doin’?”
Gnarled joints fail, and I fall at the feet of a white-haired woman in coveralls.
“My game consul. Kids stole it.” I jerk my head to the punks in scrubs drinking coffee. “I’m outta here.”
“’s what I said.” Stupid girl.
“There’s a bubble over your head, you know.”
So practical. Always was. “Go home,” I huff.
She’s miffed. “Here’s a thought: what if friends helped each other, for once? Here: on my walker. I’m coming with.”
She’s not so bad, I think. I must be ill. Next thing y’know, Hobbes’ll be made of fluff.
Agent Janet Reid periodically holds these 100-word contests on her awesome blog. Anyone can participate, just watch out for the Shark jaws :)
See below for a few entries of mine!