Dreaming Wheel

I’m so behind on my writing and luckily I’m slow here at work for the moment. I wanted to take the time to try my hand at today’s photo prompt.


‘This is the dumbest decision ever!’ Lara scoffed buying a ticket for the Ferris wheel.
‘You said you’d be willing to try. You’ve been on some horrible dates anyway, so what’s to lose?’ Liz chided snagging one herself. The tickets read, ‘Sit and enjoy the ride. The person across from your carriage is your true love.
The girls jumped in their carriages and around they went. Lara’s turn came to meet her date when she saw Liz walking off with HER ex. Deflated, she immediately regretted everything until she saw him.
‘Hello, I’m Tucker.’
‘I dreamt of you!’
‘I know.’

© Jo Creative PTSD Gal
Word Count: 100

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.

 

Deli Crimes

I had time today to do this little quick dark story up for the Friday Fictioneers and thought if I took all my short stories of 200 words or less and put them into a collection would anyone purchase to read? I’d like to think I’m getting good at these. Thoughts?


Crime scene tape long weathered away. The only remains of the murders is this shell of a building. The town nominated the old market as a shelter during disasters since it was the only building with its own well and generator. The owner, old man Cecil owned the store but it was his daughter that ran the deli. Each week a newly sliced deli sandwich cleverly named such as ‘Texas Two Step Brisket,’ combo would be featured on the menu, ‘for a LIMITED TIME’ always preceded the title. The dark truth of multiple victims followed the headlines, ‘Deli Sliced Nightmare.’

Word Count: 100
© Jo Creative PTSD Gal

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

Innocent Cutouts

I’m a day late but thought I would try my hand at this. This is a nice little exercise hosted by Kat helps get the wheels turning. There are a lot of sweet stories about cookies (no pun intended) and I wanted a twist. I’ve been really working at adding twists.


The investigators couldn’t find the culprit for the devastating loss of life. The cutout shapes of flour and sugar seemed harmless rolled out on the counter. The kitchen once full of warmth and life was now a cold and quiet scene.
‘Do you suppose she meant to do so much damage?’

Photo by Oleg Magni at Pexels.com
279 Characters
© Jo Creative PTSD Gal

I want to really start committing to submitting my short stories for publishing either online magazine or print. Any advice on where to start? I have searched online and sites are asking for payment just for the list. Advice, sites, places for submission would be GREATLY appreciated.

Soup Pot

I was super inspired by the book that my husband and I have been searching for the past 2 weeks. My grandmother’s ‘reference’ cookbook. I have a great idea but will post about that later. Here is my short story Soup Pot (word count 229).

“2 cups water, check,” Amy called out ingredients as she poured them into her grandmother’s pot. What better way to feel her grandmother around her by cooking her soup recipe in her soup pot? She swore her grandmother’s soup had healing powers.

After hours of gently simmering it was time to serve. She ladled spoonfuls into a soup bowl and sat with a box of crackers. Instead of her first bite taking her back to the days they spent in the kitchen it was just soup. It tasted fine and was very satisfying but not what she had expected. Amy read the recipe again and every ingredient was in that pot. She stared at the soup, stared at the empty kitchen, and stared at the recipe.

All Amy could do was gently blow on her soup and cry. Unknowingly a tear fell into her bowl and with her next bite a warm began in the pit of her stomach and worked its way to her limbs. The kitchen took the nostalgic warm hue and she heard it. Amy heard the voice of her grandmother.
‘A recipe, cricket, are just words on a paper of food thrown in a pot. It’s the love you stir them with that makes the dish so good. Cook with love. That’s the one ingredient you can’t put into words or buy of a shelf.’

Friday’s Corner

It’s Friday! Made it through another week. I’ve had hardly any work to do but since everything is blocked on the internet I’m left sitting playing solitaire on the computer. I had people express their sympathy for how I’m being treated and that it hasn’t gone unnoticed but that’s not going to change the fact that I’m looking for another job. I had two emails from employers, ‘we are going ahead with our process’ or ‘we feel another candidate would be better suited.’ I’m just hoping that my current employer has given a bad reference. Why would they? I’m bringing my doodle book and some other stuff to keep me occupied.

I wrote a little short story. It’s nothing much but it was enough to get me excited about writing again. Happy Friday!

Corner Watcher

For years she played with Gemma. They were inseparable just as a girl and friend should be. Then her Gemma grew apart having less in common. Gemma sits on a chair in the corner of her friend’s room, watching as she made plans and growing up.
She sat in that corner for years watching her friend grow up into a young woman.
She watched triumphs and trophies, first loves and heartbreaks. She watched fights with her parents and life learned lessons. Through the years Gemma noticed an unknown shadow slowly get closer to her friend’s window. At first, Gemma didn’t think anything of it but grew concerned when she could see that the shadow had human characteristics. She wanted to scream at her once forever friend about the danger lurking outside. One night her friend was woken by the sound of broken glass. Gemma could see the figure was now in the room and her friend was making an escape. Gemma glared the man down as he hurriedly left out the window he broke through. The father came in the room with a 911 operator on the floor, ‘Yes, I think we’ll be able to identify the intruder,’ as he picked up Gemma from her corner chair. As usual, Gemma saw everything sitting in the corner. The triumphs, heartbreaks, plans being made and thanks to the little nanny came, she also saw the intruder.

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