Summer Rules

He piled us onto the boat for the summer.
“Stay off the bow!” He warned. Our eyes met,
and with mischief we responded in unison. “Okay, dad.”

Photo by: Michael Spring

Written for: 3LineThursday

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X-Games

“X-rated,” Kyle said through a smile.

“And you found it here in the park?” Carla asked, head poking out from behind her longboard to glance at the naked curves.

“Well,” Kyle began slowly. “I may have brought it from home.”

“Gross! Why?”

“I wanted to show you?”

“Why, in everything that is holy, did that seem like a good idea?” Carla dropped the longboard and skated down the pipe.

“Crap.” Kyle followed. When he reached the other side of the half pipe, he had enough self-preservation to look ashamed.

“You told me you were curious about ladies…maybe.”

Carla sighed. “That was a secret! My sexuality isn’t one of your games!”

Photo Credit: Mike Fleming via CC.

Photo Credit: Mike Fleming via CC.

A Microbookends Tale


Judges Thoughts:

4th Place

A rite of passage story given a thoroughly modern makeover.

At the core of this story is a friendship between Carla and Kyle, both coming terms with the inevitable changes of adolescence.

There is an honesty and openness in their relationship that shines through the tricky subject matter.

Kyle’s curious to know more. Carla’s secure enough to start coming to terms with who she might be: strong enough to do so on her terms, rather than Kyle’s, but forgiving enough not to completely cut him out when he realises the mistake he’s made.

Carla’s a great character – I’d like to know more about her.

In today’s age, where x-rated material is so freely available to skew impressionable minds, it was reassuring to read a story that touches on this subject matter, but ultimately is about a boy and a girl getting to know each other as friends, rather than objects.

So while this piece of flash fiction stands by itself, it has the potential to withstand being fleshed out into something more substantial and longer. That’s why it made my top four.

Ancient Ruins of Centuries Past

Where did they go?” Margaret asked, one hand pointing towards the ancient ruins and the other clutching her brother’s hand.

“They didn’t go anywhere,” Linus shrugged. “They died.”

“Died?”

“Yea, years ago.”

“Like, before Grand-pappy died?”

“Centuries before.”

“What’s a century?”

Linus chewed on his lip. “One hundred years, I think.”

Margaret reached out to touch the crumbling stone. The corner flaked off and fell to the ground.

“I think I broke it,” she whispered.

Linus tugged her hand, pulling her from the wall. “We’re not supposed to touch.”

“Why not?” Margaret asked. “They don’t care, they’ve been dead for a centuries.”

“A century.” Linus corrected. “And they don’t care, but that man does.”

Margaret followed her brother’s pointed finger towards the guard posted near the entrance. His eyes were on the two children.

“It’s okay, Guard!” Margaret yelled. “They’re not coming back home, they’ve been dead for a century!”


For more Adventures of Linus and Margaret


Monday’s Finish the Story:

Ruins - © 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

Finish the story begins with:  “Where did they go?”

Leviathans in the Living Room

“Leviathan straight ahead! Charge!”

“We can’t charge, Linus, we’re in sailboats.”

Linus stepped one of his untied sneakers onto couch’s armrest. “Maybe your sailboat can’t charge, but I’m going to flatten them!”

Margaret plucked her thumb from her mouth. “So there is more than one Leviathan?”

The boy sighed, a deep, exasperated sigh that he had learned from their father. “They travel in packs. It’s their strategy. One will hiss and scare us and the other can use its tentacle to grab our spears. ”

Margaret stood on the recliner, balancing her weight as it shook under her feet. After a count of three she jumped from the recliner to the sofa that Linus captained. The recliner wobbled after Margaret, sending a spray of imaginary water over the hilt and onto Linus’ face.

“Hey! We need an army, not a single ship,” he said as he wiped the water off his forehead.

“But I’m scared,” Margaret admitted.

“Well I’ll be dogged if we don’t get this monster!”

“Dogged? Do you want me to get Chuck?”

“We don’t need a chihuahua, Mar! Just grab a spear. It’s coming!”

Linus threw an imaginary spear at the ottoman.

“Did you get it?” Margaret asked.

“We have to hit it with more frequency,” Linus yelled over his shoulder.

Margaret looked around. “Where do I find frequency?”

Linus rolled his eyes, swaying on the arm of the couch from the waves. “Are you trying to annoy me to death?”

Margaret laughed. “If I wanted that, I’d just knock you off the sailboat. Aren’t we under attack?”

“Yes! Now throw the spear.”

The siblings threw their spears towards the pack of Leviathan’s that inhabited the living room rug. After a moment Linus covered his ears and screamed.

“What is it?” Margaret asked, taking careful steps towards her brother.

“The roar of the Leviathan, they make ears ring.”

Margaret immediately covered her own ears as if she too was experiencing tinnitus.

Their eyes met. “The last roar before their final attack.”

Margaret nodded at her brother’s solemn words before grabbing the invisible spear and throwing it towards the rug. “I got it!”

“You did?”

“Look at all its innards falling out.”

Linus, not to be outdone by his sister, threw another spear. He cheered after a moment.

“Mar! We did it!”

They hugged in the middle of the sailboat, swaying back and forth on the couch because of the waves. Linus pulled back. “Now you stay here, I have to swim out there and get their intestines before the blood coagulates.”

Margaret looked towards the bathroom, confused again. “You want me to go get the Colgate?”

Linus groaned and jumped off the couch. Splash!


Wordle asked for a story that included ten of the following words:

Flatten;  CephalicCoagulate; Innards; Frequency; Hiss; Tinnitus; Spear; Spray; Radial;  Leviathan; Dogged

Grey and Gloomy

He ate paint chips for dinner that night. The dirt beneath his fingernails added an extra bit of taste but his stomach still rumbled around the lead.

Under the flickering lights of the old warehouse, Danny waited for his mother. He had been waiting for a week and a half. He counted each sunrise over the city as he watched the trucks drive in every morning, images of bread and meats on their sides. A feast would be easy to find with a truck like that – his mother was supposed to steal one.

On the opposite site of the city, the prison stood under a grey and gloomy cloud. Danny’s mother stared out the window towards the warehouse on the hill. Her eyes blurred with tears as she scratched her cell walls, waiting.


Written for this past week’s Flash!Friday.

Goals

“Balance,” his mother said to herself. The shopping bags slipped from her shoulder, he reached out to take one but she shook her head. “I got this.”
“What about me? What can I do?” He asked her, still eyeing the bags.
“I set out to be a good mother to you and a good CEO for them. I know what I want so I work for it.”
“And how does this relate to you carrying too many shopping bags?” He asked.
“This is my exercise– I have to stay fit so I can continue mothering you well into my eighties.”


It’s Warmup Wednesday over at FlashFriday – Base a 100 words story off of this image; include a lifelong dream:

Olympic Games, 1896; the athlete Herman Weingartner, horizontal bar champion. Public domain photo by Albert Meyer.

Tea Time with Erika

“Now, you sit right there. We have to wait for my mommy to bring the tea out.”

Erika the doll sat at the miniature mosaic table, waiting. She kept an impatient eye on her own mother.

“Because- just cause I’m your mommy doesn’t mean I’m big enough to boil water. My mommy said so.”

Erika’s head slumped forward, her eyes automatically blinked closed with the movement.

“I know you want your tea Erika, but you’re just going to have to wait patently like good little girl.”

“It’s patiently, dear.” A voice calls from the kitchen.

“Stop listening, Mommy! I’m teaching her lessons.” She leans in close, whispering into the tiny plastic ear. “I mean patiently, you have to wait patiently. Just like me.”

The weight of Erika’s head, already bending towards the ground, pulled the tiny body off the tiny chair and onto the floor.

“Now that’s very dramatic!”

Erika stayed face down on the carpet, not moving a muscle. A tray of steaming water and tea bags arrived on a metal tray.

“That’s not how a good girl gets her tea.” The mommies say in unison.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Toy Story.”