Tag Archives: #99words

Hand Drawn

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Nancy Jenkins / PX Pixels

Hand Drawn

It was hot as Sadie stepped into the barn. Her grass-fed organically raised family, back from a day in the pasture. The herd lowed as she pulled on her boots and gloves. Bessie was waiting as always for Sadie to set the stool at her side. A few fruitless tugs and then relief as milk began to flow from her engorged teats.

There were pumps, feed and other technology designed to increase yield and productivity, but Sadie found something relaxing about the sound of milk ringing against the interior. “Wholesome, sustainable farming, our commitment freshly expressed into every can.”

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Dad’s Lessons

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Unknown / Post-processing by Greg Glazebrook @ GMGCreative

Dad’s Lessons

The summer of ’63. Jinny and I talk about running off in that old Sharknose Ford. God knows what we’d have gotten up to in the flatbed. Me, a sixteen-year-old life support system for a boner and Jinny completely smitten. Nothing good could have come from two teenagers high on the hormones of youth.

“Patience,” he’d say gripping the keys in his dirt-stained hands. “You’ll be the driver someday.”

God knows where we’d be if he’d let us run wild. Dad’s gone but Jinny and me still look something spectacular sitting in the front seat of that old truck.

Unknown / Composite image created by Greg Glazebrook @ GMGCreative
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Love Assassin

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Unknown

Love Assassin

He peeked around the door frame, “Have a great day, my stud!”

I urgently pleaded, “Screw it all Evan and come back to bed.”

“I can’t, you know the re-election plan…” And with that, he locked me into his ‘closet.’

I pulled the sheets to my face and inhaled deeply, trying to salvage any remnants of last night.

Ka-chick! Ka-chick! Ka-chick! The silence was shattered by a thousand cameras popping like machine gun fire along the frontlines.

In the street, a fundamental conservative persona lay bleeding and battered. Did he really think I was going to keep him secret?

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Another Person’s Trash

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Another Person’s Trash

“Every Wednesday Mom insists I take her to the Sally Ann after morning Bingo,” I said with a deliberate eye roll.

“You say ‘Thrift Store’ with a pejorative connotation.”

“It’s all junk and every time we go, she stops at the tables filled with odds and ends left by the dead. How many quasi-fine China teapots and cups does an 82-year-old woman need.”

“Come on Sis, you know she collects that shit. Don’t you recall summer weekends being dragged from yard to yard? All those treasures she plucked from unsuspecting sellers put us through college.”

“Hmmm… Whatcha doing Saturday?”

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9. Revenge: The Shadow Woman 1

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Unknown

9. Revenge: The Shadow Woman 1

Lilith fretted. She was comfortable skirting the periphery. Biding her time and studying the beast. Plotting how to best secure its loyalty. She needed it to support her primary mission.

Years had faded since she last saw him but not her memories. His captivating charm, the lost hours and waking up disoriented. His voice mocking as she stumbled dazed and half-naked into the corridor.

He was the real predator, worse than this unholy beast. Still, she clung to her script, leaving the dark recesses unprepared could prove severely disastrous.

“Show yourself,” the beast snarled. Slowly the shadow woman emerged.

The Revenge Series

<< 8. Revenge: This Skin

10. Revenge: The Shadow Woman 2 >>

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Busted

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Busted

Doris lay in the dark. Something had jolted her from slumber. Its source, elusive in that waking haze. The pungent smell of booze was strong enough to induce drunkenness. There again, the squeaky hinge she’d asked Artie to oil.

A bolt of electricity radiated outwards to the tip of each tiny hair standing on end. Carter was asleep down there! She prodded Artie but the oaf might as well be dead. She bounded downstairs grabbing the kitchen broom en route.

Pushing through the door she was greeted by Carter half outside, her ass up, legs dangling from the ceiling-level window.

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Divine Design

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Divine Design

I’d arranged some free time to take a quiet hike along the Grand River. It was a beautiful day, overcast but bursting with shades of fall in the crisp afternoon air. I stepped from the trail to examine a fallen tree, gnarled and weathered shades of sun-bleached gray concealing a punch of colour nestled within. Red, orange and yellow waves of an inner light radiating outwards across a monochromatic backdrop. I ponder the moments when each broke free from captivity, falling on the autumn wind before congregating in this nook. A series of seemingly random acts so divinely orchestrated.

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Penal Colony 99

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Penal Colony 99

Trapped inside this pressurized pod, small and insignificant against an endless regolith ocean.

There was a time in history when the unsavory were banished. Prisoners to an island, yet free to start again.

There are two states of existence on the ‘dark’ side. The ghostly gray of day and the almost black on black of night. This is my Australia. No new beginnings, only reflections on the coming end. Still, every rotation I sip on weak replicated tea watching the light creep across an unchanging moonscape until it falls off a distant horizon and I drift into darkness again.

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Another Bad Day

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Another Bad Day

Today was difficult. I was completely blindsided by what was to come. If I’d known I’d have stayed in bed.

The day unfolded in layers like a sad country song. I’m sure the dog would have run away if I had one.

My heart pounded, sweat beaded on my forehead. I cried and screamed and sobbed in anger and anguish.

As I sit here alone, the sun long set, I put all of it into a bubble and blow it up and away. As I watch it drift upwards I feel my body relax. Tomorrow is a new day.

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What the Duck!

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What the Duck!

Bobby sat at the riverbank looking at her phone when she grabbed a nearby duckling and popped it between two slices of bread.

Angelina watched in horror as Bobby started to bite down on the quacking sandwich. “What’re you doing!?!?”

To the duckling’s relief, she pull the sandwich out and said, “Research for Carrot Ranch’s writing challenge.”

Angelina shot her a confused look…

See it says, “Write a story explaining why you ate baby ducks for lunch.”

“Ummm, no Bobby, it says ‘…explain baby ducks ate my lunch.’ You really need new strategies to keep your dyslexia in check!”

Disclaimer: No ducks or ducklings were harmed during the writing of this ridiculous piece of fiction.

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