Monthly Archives: August 2014

Crossroads

John chewed happily as he waited. Vine weed made a pleasant change to the usual diet of bluebottles, mosquitoes and other winged insects that made it into his grill.

He’d heard them argue, of course.

“I know where we’re going. I’ve been here before.”

“You told me you’d been here with your folks, when you were 4. I hardly think that counts.”

“We should go left.”

“We should go right!”

“It’s definitely left.”

“I’m telling you we have to go…”

Turns out, one needs to make a decision at a crossroads; especially one divided by several acres of barren land.


 

This piece was submitted as part of Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. 1 photograph. 100 words. Sometimes over 100 people taking part.

parked

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Arthur

Arthur Junior (son of Arthur Senior) had taken to sitting at his father’s slightly wonky writing desk every second Wednesday of the month. His father, whom like any self-respecting gentleman, was very particular about his particulars, never missed a hunt.

The trick to never getting into trouble, Arthur Junior had observed, was to never get caught.

His theory was challenged last Wednesday afternoon, however, when upon leafing through the Dictionary he accidentally tore the page he had been studying. Though at first he was struck by fear, he finally conceded his father would never notice the tear in his vagina.


 

This piece was submitted as part of Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. 1 photograph. 100 words. Sometimes over 100 people taking part.

antique-desk

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