17:00

Picture of a park bench

(Click here to view : What the park bench sees everyday)

She supposed she really ought to be scattering bird seed, perhaps corn for the larger ones. So her grandson had often told her, in kind but stern words. “The mold on the bread could kill them!”

But her widow’s pension was meant for sustenance, not luxury, so she shared what she had. The birds didn’t seem to mind, judging by how they gathered about her feet on this park bench, every day at 5 pm. And they never left a crumb behind, so where was the harm? Continue reading

Attention/Protest

Homeless person in a thing blanket, in a windy blizzard

Source: Spencer Platt / Getty Images

Snowmageddon! Stay home if you don’t have to go out! Feels like double-digit negative temps! Treacherous conditions! Freezing drizzle! Mega-storm sweeping the continent, laying waste to everything in its path!

She switched off the tv, powered down her computer, snapped off background radio reports. She believed the footage: Continue reading

All Are Welcome Here

Wife carrying Competition, jumping a hurdle

Image based on IBT(2014), with my apologies

A little flash fiction around a prompt of “Wife Carrying.” Because maybe that’s the true test of a strong partnership:

It’d never occurred to them that their participation might not be welcome. Celebrating the fortitude and stamina required to go the distance in marriage–what better way to do this than with a test of physical endurance?  Continue reading

Rodeo Event #4: Bucky’s Baked Beans, A Love Story with Two Spoons

fork and spoon crossedCountdown from the Carrot Ranch Contest: Re-visioning your flash in 4 steps (for more, see the link below)

 Step One: 99 word flash, to include “beans”

Bucky’s Beans

It was definitely not what I was expecting. I thought we’d celebrate Bucky’s return from her Antarctic dogsled adventure with a lavish meal, and go shake our butts at a dance club. Maybe not that last one. Bucky’d only been home for two weeks.

What I saw was Bucky on the couch in sweats and wool socks, legs folded underneath her, spoon dipping into a can of baked beans.

I hid my dismay, but not well enough.

“When you’ve been living off a dogsled, a can of beans is a feast.”

I sighed, grabbing a spoon from the kitchen. Continue reading