It's In The Genes

May 24, 2012 Flash Friday Fictioner 100-word story from Madison Woods prompt at http://madisonwoods.wordpress.com/flash-fiction/moths-at-the-drive-through/

It's In The Genes

“Here we are!”

“What’ya mean? That sign says MacDonalds!”

“You sure? … I thought it said Monsanto.”

“Wishful thinking doesn’t bring us home.”

“Ok, Mr. braniac, what’s ‘MacDonalds’?”

“It’s like that Mobil station where we stopped last, only this place is for people too lazy to prepare their own meals to line up and get meat, not gas. I knew I shouldn’t trust you. Dark ones just can’t seem to learn to read”

“Are you saying I’m lazy?”

“No, not laziness … just a question of genetics. Aw heck … since we’re here, we might as well go inside and get some horsemeat.”

Rainbow Promises

Friday Fictioners 5/18/12
This story is written in response to the prompt found at http://madisonwoods.wordpress.com/flash-fiction/rainbows/

Jason stood arrogantly to the side. Phineas Barnum finished another mouthful of dove and grapes. Iris disappeared into the rainbow from whence she came, while Calais and Zetes hovered nearby. The rest of the crew lounged near the banquet table.

“Step right up, son,” Barnum finally bellowed. He added, “You seem trapped between twin dangers.”

“Literally and figuratively,” Jason muttered.

“Well, normally you wouldn’t leave before I found a silver lining in this crowd … but you did rid me of my harpies. Just take one of my doves and follow it closely between the rocks … you probably will get through.”

“Isn’t there an easier way to Georgia?”

Changes

Friday Fictioneers 5/11/12
This story is written in response to this week's photograph at http://madisonwoods.wordpress.com/flash-fiction/moon-and-sky/

Changes

Lying alongside her in the dry grass washed away his fears like the rain that was sure to fall tomorrow would rinse an entire summer’s arid dust from the leaves of his crops. That golden halo augured reprise from a drought that threatened his and everyone’s harvest. The moonlight danced on her face, radiating hope and courage and satisfaction. It had been eight years, to the day, that he had lost his beloved Sasha in the flash flood. Work had become his lifeblood. He had avoided others, erecting a barren cocoon of isolation. Until now.

Tears welled. He softly cried.

Scratching

100-word Flash Fiction: FridayFictioneers
A story inspired by this photo provided by Madison Woods.

Scratching

Dawn looked up, pensively. "What's that noise?"

Keith muted the TV. "Sounds like something scratching inside that wall."

"A mouse?"

"Too big. Listen! There are thumps, too!"

"Keith, should we call someone?"

"No. I'll open it and see what's inside."

Keith started carefully. Five years ago, he had repapered it himself, hoping to take Dawn's mind off the loss of their daughter. Soon, he worked more feverishly. The scratching slowed.

Finally, he had demolished most of the drywall and could see inside.

"It's Trina!"

"How can that be?"

"I don't know. But she hasn't changed a bit in five years!"