Category Archives: daily prompt

Penny for your thoughts

Growing up on the edge of a strawberry field, I thought I had a pretty happy and safe existence. Living was easy. I wanted my childhood to last forever.

As I grew older, it was hard to know my true identity and purpose though. I didn’t want to hang around the same bunch and area my whole life. My parents had also passed, which made it difficult to understand if I was part of something bigger.

Always hanging around with absolutely no purpose, a woman with a love for baskets and cooking finally took me into her home. Glad to belong to someone again, I thought I could build a better life away from the strawberrry field. After only a few hours in her kitchen, it was clear, that was not going to happen. The grass is never greener. She and her husband started torturing me with boiling water.

In time I was set aside, wounding my psyche even more and preserving only my helplessness. Daily life was almost what I would call sweet once the boilings stopped but I was cloistered, and could not even breathe easily in their environment. I always feared what unexpected events would come into my life next.

It seemed hopeless for me, so I wished for someone else’s happiness. I begged to myself; make sure this wasted life matters. Use your misery to make someone else happy. My life, I thought, had meaning when the jobless, widower neighbor came to visit.

I inhaled deeply, listening to him with bated breathe. How could I help? “Be careful what you wish for” was my next thought, when his accomplice appeared and the neighbor drew a knife.

The scene happened quickly, with the knife coming down on my head like sliced butter. He continued to cut through me, with a huge grin on his face, staring through me like an old lost friend. The old man spread sections of me all over his smooth brown accomplice.

This grown man took great joy consuming all of me. Ultimately the peanut butter and I did not survive but my life had mattered. Our neighbor was no longer hungry.

He took me down. Nothing is real. Nothing to get hung about. Strawberry fields forever.

Writing prompt – Tell me about the last time you were in a jam

Patterned Response

She struggled between staying to die a little bit every day, and walking away to live unapologetically as herself, for the rest of her life. Conflicted no more, Caroline tossed clothes next to her polkadot suitcase and realized the colorful future she longed for was right in front of her. It was time to run, not walk.

She stared at her few favorite outfits. Random patterns of her life. The flowers made her dream of a picket fence with flowers along the walk to the front door, not an alley of God knows what on the way to the deadbolt. She needed to bolt and leave behind her dead end boyfriend, job and shithole apartment. Now was her time to transform the telling pile into a new life.

Caroline’s previous willingness to join a psychedelic haze and the sexual revolution had only created her empty shell. The community colllege night classes made her want a day job. Her bellbottoms would ring her in at the top. This was her time to join the social revolution. She didn’t need a man. She’d gotten this far. She threw the few clothes she had into her suitcase, grabbed her keys to freedom and sped away in a red VW on her way to a rainbow filled new life.

#Friday Fictioners – 100 words

10 a.m. and the remaining items from under the bed, brought her new day to a screeching halt. Marianne slouched in front of them with a blank look on her face, if you don’t count the tears. She stared at seashells memorializing their off-season stroll last October. A reminder of the Cape Cod tournament that allowed for beach time between hectic games. A beautiful memory mixed with the unknown before her. The papers were one more reminder of things she didn’t understand. A slap in the face that time is fleeting and she hadn’t really known her daughter.

Hidden Meaning #Friday Fictioners

Hikers come from all over New England to explore our western Massachusetts rocky mountain trails. On a clear day, the summit exposes a 360 degree view of four states. Most visitors are from area towns or southern New England, those not invested in driving all the way to the White Mountains or upper Vermont. Our beautiful vistas don’t sustain overnight guests; merely classic Yankee day trippers.

For we remote locals, the little rocky mountain is our greatest point of pride, the only source of consumerism and for innocent punks like me, the best place to play pranks.

The rangers have three rules: find the trailhead, stay on the trail and come down before sunset. In other words, hiking is easy but serious business.

My buddy and I also have three rules: be creative, be harmless and see how many people you can get to turn back. In other words, our antics are simple-minded but threaten the tourism that sustains us.

We post signs, hang Blair Witch symbols and once even created an animal feces scenario. Melvin and I watch from a turn or an overlook and wait for the hiker’s reactions. We camp out but not for the night; it’s a trippy way to spend the day.




[I started this entry for the Friday Fictioners photo challenge but once my idea developed, I just kept going. I since don’t want to strip it down to 100 words. I suppose I turned back!]

My exercise before getting out of bed was navigating this trail with you. Have a great day!