FOR SALE

I did my workout this morning and my body hates me. I’m in a puddle here but fell in love with the short story I was able to come up with. Positive thoughts and vibes today. Maybe another short story later.


‘FOR SALE’
Being a piano teacher I thought this piano would make a great yard ornament.
‘This is being sold as is and still plays. Will not deliver.’ I thought that was a reasonable request.
‘Must be of Christian faith and have a priest present at pickup. NO RETURNS.’
I called the number provided because this is EXACTLY what I am looking for, faith or not.
‘Do you have a strong faith and priest?’
I said, ‘I’m not much of a churchgoer.’
The seller said, ‘your choice.’

Demonic notes played all night that first night. My ad started, ‘FOR SALE’

© Jo Creative PTSD Gal
Word Count: 100

Crying Wolf

I have a sick little guy this morning and I’m scrambling trying to figure out what I’m going to do while he goes and lays back down. Here’s a quick little story. Happy Friday Y’all.


‘What exactly happened?’ The officer sat with a pen at the ready.
‘It was like being at a motocross race, non-stop engines revving. Windows shook and Peppy couldn’t even go outside. She just sat and shook.’
The officer looked at the little fluffy marshmallow in the corner stained with red.
Sessy continued, ‘I walked outside and warned I was going to call the cops. Next thing I know Peppy was at one of the boys’ throats and the bike was through my front wall. Is the boy ok?’
The officer chuckled, ‘He’s ok, but said it was a wolf attack?’

Word Count: 100
© Jo Creative PTSD

With new ambitions on the horizon, a quick poll will help a lot.

 

Desert Proof

Taking a little break from work and recharging my study of HTML to try my hand at another Twittering Tale hosted by Kat.


Deep in the desolate desert, a rumored oasis sits.
Shawn’s dad swore it was there but warned that it’s a wasteland for society’s failures to quell their thirst.
Ten long days he traveled and at the end of the tenth night, ‘THIS IS IT’ glowed in the darkness.
Now he sits and drinks.

Characters: 280
Words: 53
© Jo Creative PTSD Gal


I had mentioned earlier about possibly trying to publish some of my short stories let me know what you think. I’ll start adding polls to my short stories for input. Comments are welcome as well.

 

Freshly Baked Secrets

I had the hardest time with this photo and I ended up in the weirdest place for the story but I ran with it.


Ana’s home has a bakery, ‘Fresh Baked Secrets’, in front where she sold secret recipes baked into sugary confections. On the table next to her register sat a vase full of gold trimmed roses. Customers had nothing but compliments about the arrangement when purchasing cookies.

We all know the darkest of secrets are behind closed doors and the basement was always locked. ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY’ warned the sign. This was Ana’s space where she honed skills in the darkest magic imaginable. Her cookie recipe would enchant her next victim never to be seen again. Each rose represented the innocent soul captured.

Word Count: 100
© Jo Creative PTSD Gal

Twittering Tale: Lou’s On 66

Better late than never. Here is my twittering tale for this week which was a great exercise for working on dialogue (which I need more practice). I wanted to veer away from my usual dark style for these shorts and tried to do something humorous.


‘Look, Bruce, if we go left here we’ll get right back on to Route 66.’
‘I see that Leo but if we want to eat at Lou’s we need to go straight.’
The two men argued about the Route 66 trip while their wives snickered.
‘Should we tell them Lou’s is around the corner?’
‘Yeah, and on 66?’


Character Count: 280
© Jo Creative PTSD Gal

Finish the Story 2019 #3 – One Day

This was a great distraction and an opportunity to think outside the box. As of late I have shied away from nominating and participating in certain things as my anxiety seems to have hijacked my thoughts about me but here it is me writing outside my comfort zone. The awesome Kristian has helped do this by nominating me to add to the story. I wish it was more but I would like to hand the pass the torch to Jay-lyn another amazing blogger that I love to read. All of this is possible thanks to the talented Teresa over at The Haunted Wordsmith.

Rules:

  1. Copy the story as you receive it.
  2. Add to the story in some fashion.
  3. Tag another person to contribute to or finish the story.
  4. Please use FTS as a tag so I can find it or link back to part 1.
  5. Have Fun!

Part one – from The Haunted Wordsmith

Victor tugged at the rigging and twisted the rusty knob on the gas tank. He didn’t like leaving his family’s lives in the hands of a second-hand balloon, but what could he do? Everything was gone already; he was lucky to have found this under all the other rubbish in the dump.

“Here, Papa.” Maddie handed him her small, floral bag filled with all her worldly possessions.

He looked in her eyes and smiled. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Is there room, Papa?” Jacob clutched his bag close to his chest. “I don’t really need it if there isn’t.”

Victor took his son’s bag and looked inside. Tears flowed down his cheeks. “There is always room for our dreams.” He tucked the wrapped notebook and Maddie’s bag into a small cubby in the balloon’s basket.

Maddie went in first, then Jacob.

“Victor,” Rose said, wiping the tears from her husband’s face, “we are doing the right thing, aren’t we?”

He held her hand against his cheek and closed his eyes. Silently, he nodded and took a deep breath. “It’s the only way.”

Victor helped her into the basket, then he climbed in and turned the knob on the flame. The family waited and watched as the sky filled with balloons. Friends and neighbors made the same choice they had. Many would, some didn’t. It was the only way.

As the balloon tugged against its last connection to the Earth, Maddie screamed and pointed. Victor turned and saw …

Part two – my Addition

The horde of Invaders, wearing their strange red painted leather armour and waving their jagged swords in the air, come marching over the hill.

No one knew where these strange people had come from. It had only been a year ago when radio waves from space had been received that proved they were not the only inhabited planet in the universe. Then they arrived with their great big ships. First, they took over Washington DC. No one had cared when they publicly executed their President, most people didn’t like him much anyway, but then they started turning people into slaves.

The world had been so divided against each other that they could not stop this mighty external force and now they had made it to California.

America was finished. Only one country now held any chance of resistance. They were going to try to make it to Russia. His grandparents had fled from there to escape Communist ideology and now he was trying to go back. He hoped the little bit of Russian he remembered being taught on his Grandmothers knee would be enough to get by.

Victor jumped into the Balloon basket and cut the rope. The wind picked up and they drifted off, just in the nick of time.

The prevailing wind blew them Northwestwards across Oregon and slowly out to sea.

Rose began dishing out some of their meagre food rations, bread and cheese, when she started laughing, hysterically.

Victor grabbed her arm “What is it?”

Rose looked up into his face and said …….

To be Continued.

Jo’s Take:

Rose replied through giggles, ‘Our passports are under the cheese. Why are we hiding these?’ ‘I was trying to hide the cheese.’ Victor giggled at her. The mood instantly lightened in the small basket when Rose and Victor smiled as the horde disappeared under the canopy of the forest below. Victor leaned over and whispered, ‘let’s try to set good examples for our children.’ Rose nodded as he kissed her cheek.

The asylum seeking family sat in the basket quietly wincing in unison as the wind whipped tore through the worn woven wicker. Rose could see the kids were shivering and getting scared. Out of her gear bag, she pulled out a sleeping bag a bundled it around her children. ‘You guys want to play a game?’ Just as Rose was about to tell the kids she could hear screaming from below. Victor peered over the side and….

6 Word Story: 10/4

Running super late but did my weigh in and actually got on the treadmill. I’m hoping to get this post done along with another one before I have to head to work. I still have to eat breakfast and finish packing everything up for the day. Oh, the kids. Shoot. I have to get the kids up. Following Inktober’s prompt list today’s prompt gave me a bit of a problem. I’m drawing a blank.


Prompt: Spell

Chants, orange glows; irresistible to children.

6 Word Story: 8/22

Why in the world did I choose this word for today’s prompt? I encourage you to try a 6-word story. I was laughing more than anything trying to choose something. I needed a laugh. I’ve been treating my stomach nicely to some broths and wheat toast. I’m SO afraid of what the scale will say tomorrow.


Prompt Word: Moo

Earth's secrets are held by animals.

 

Zero Flashes

I decided that I needed to write something…anything. Today’s word prompt for the 6-Word Story was time and thought why not continue it to something longer. I edited it and rewrote parts trying to keep in mind what I have learned so far in my writing class. I focused on a character’s description trying to use as few detailing words as possible. The end goal was for the main character not to live hour by hour but rather moment by moment. This was achieved by force from an outside source. I think I may have failed at this. It feels generic and boring. I haven’t really written anything in length in a while and lost my train of thought more times than I can count. I know it’s the pain in my jaw but it’s less today and I need to get back into the swing of things… especially ones that I love. The prompt was, ‘All the clocks stopped working’.


sundialSam ran her life by the clock. The little timepiece on her wrist, on her phone, in the car, and even in her bathroom added numerical values to her daily life. Sometimes it was stressful and sometimes it felt like time would drag on. Some days she would have everything completed while others she had nothing but time left over with nothing to fill the tick-tocks between numbers.
5am- Run for half hour
5:30am- Shower
6am-Dress, gather and pack purse and lunch
6:45am-Breakfast
7:30am-Arrive at work
Sam’s mornings were always like this, day in and day out. She was a creature of habit and completely ok with her life, all while checking what time it was.

It was late fall when she woke up to her alarm clock flashing zeros. She panicked a little knowing she woke up late and behind schedule but also concluded that the electricity had gone out. Picking her phone up she realized the time face on her device was flashing zeros. Now confusion was added to her panic. She thought her watch would be able to tell her which number in the day she was really at but the little thin gold hands weren’t making their rounds. As she went from room to room all her clocks stopped and that’s when she thought her brother was playing a prank on her. The previous night she told her brother that she would have to check her calendar to see if she had time to meet him for dinner next week. When she was looking through her phone’s calendar app she told him that she could set a reminder for 7pm next Wednesday. Her brother laughed at her, ‘You have to make time to see your family?’ he said laughing at her. Dismissing the memory of the conversation, she turned the TV on to find the time. Nothing.

It was light out already, not yet bright and Sam thought it was past time for her daily run and shower. She shoved a hastily made sandwich and water into her purse and ran out the door. The clock in her car wasn’t any help either. Some people sped past her and some she had to pass. Once she was at her office she noticed it was absolute chaos and confusion. Some of her coworkers were present and some were not. She sat at her computer discovering all her programs and internet were working correctly but the clock. That damn useless clock displaying zeros. Was her time up? Was the world’s time up?
‘SAM!’ she turned to see her little round boss red, sweaty, and out of breath.
‘Yes, Mr. Timbalt?’
‘Do you know what time it is?’
Knowing this couldn’t be a trick question and that she wasn’t in trouble she answered honestly. ‘No,’ she said in a lost voice.
Mr. Timbalt’s face dropped and he took off in what would be considered fast for him but regular pace for Sam. A newspaper runs on deadlines but there was a story. They are ALL living it right now.

The news channel in the office sputtered to life with both anchors looking disheveled and unprepared. They couldn’t give answers as to why no one could tell time but it happened all over the world and all at once. They explained experts were going to come and help tell what time it is by the sun during the days measuring light to add back a semblance of order to the chaos. These experts were actually hunters, farmers, fishermen, and astronomers to name a few. Sam thought it was unusual to refer to this method as a lost art but in reality, the confusion the entire world was going through proved that it was.

A year later, life was still productive and scheduled but it was relaxed and prioritized with the essentials. The world wasn’t thrown back into the Stone Age and technology still advanced. Time was a gift now appreciated and not live by. Sam still works at the newspaper and still makes deadlines but isn’t a slave to her watch. All around the world, the clocks that remained in place stand like statues with their hands resting at 12 and one seconds over. Some speculated that the time loss was due to a magnetic phenomenon while other’s suggested that it was an act of God. Sam thought it was an answer to bring life back to what’s important no matter what caused the zeros.

Photo: Sundial

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: