What’s Fun?


Zing, Zang, and Zinnia (oh, yes–Peony had told them her Zekonian name) got settled into the ramshackle old house. Assuming the form of human children, they explored outdoors.

“It’s pleasant,” commented Zing. “I like grass. But what is that  piece of equipment with the chains?”

“Zing, you’re too curious!”  Zang was cranky.

“It’s a game humans play,” said Zinnia. “See those plastic discs in the basket? They toss the discs into the chains and get a score when the discs drop into the basket.”

“But why?” asked Zing.

“Just for fun, Zing. It’s called Frisbee.”

“Fun?”  Zang grumped. “What’s that?”



Getting to Know You

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson



“Neither,”said Peony. “Earth people like to make odd designs and use them for decorations”

“How do you KNOW this?” demanded Zing. Who ARE you?”  His antennae quivered with both fear and indignation.

“I am Peony.  I am from your planet.  I have been looking after you, protecting you. You are both very innocent.  Too trusting.”

“What is our planet’s name?  Who is our Leader?” asked Zang, doubting.

“Zekon, of course.  And our Leader is Zedion the Great.”

“But your name—it starts with that “Puh” sound. Not a Zekonian name.”

“It’s for undercover work, Silly!”


A Cold Assignment


Zing, I want to go back to where the water was warm and the sun was hot,” muttered Zang.  “This is unbearable.  What a strange place is this Earth!”

Zing shivered, too.  His antennae quivered from his shaking. But their assignment had been clear. They must analyze “snow” to see if it could be weaponized and used against them.

“Zang, do you remember the little girl who watched us from her window?  I wonder what she’s doing now.”

“Enjoying the warmth of the sun, of course. Splashing like a fish in the warm water. Not freezing, like us.”

Be Careful!

PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg

The stacks of warm hats looked like  children  facing the window, aching to get outdoors and play until their little noses froze and they had to come back inside for hot chocolate with marshmallows.

However, they were more sinister by far than they appeared.  Innocent shoppers had no clue that what they were seeing had been devised by a government think tank. The yarns were embedded with brain scanners that recorded every thought and sent it back to the Big Brother Computer deep in the bowels of the earth.

Make your own hats, people.  It’s safer.

Fibber McGee’s Closet


PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Judy and Uncle Bill  opened the door to  Aunt Reenie’s storage closet. They both stood speechless, taking in the  years of accumulated  miscellany.

“It’s Fibber McGee’s closet!” said Uncle Bill.

“Who?  What?” asked Judy.

“It’s an old radio program. Look it up.  Well, let’s get it done.”

Aunt Reenie was Uncle Bill’s aunt, nearly 100 years old when she decided to die.

“What useless junk!”  Judy  declared.

“Maybe. But Aunt Reenie was thankful for everything she had. There are some good stories in this closet.”

“Really?  Like what?”  The time flew as they cleared it out.




I’m Not Sure

PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Ann Hall

“Mother, what are these?” Ann asked.

“I’m not sure, Dear. We could ask someone.”

“Well, I guess they could be candle holders.  Look at this orange one. What would you put in that shell thing on top?”  Ann reached up to trace her finger over the curve, fascinated by the texture, when the top piece suddenly came loose.   Ann  captured it before it fell.

Mother grasped the rocking pillar, gasping as she looked into the hollow piece.

A white-faced curator arrived, taking the pillar. “What are you doing? Oh, my!  What have you done!”


The Dark

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Dark clouds gather above as darker evil took place below. The bodies had been found in the basement of the condo, tied back to back and mutilated beyond recognition. Whoever was responsible had been thorough in his work, leaving no trace of himself behind.

Detectives were combing the grounds, flashlights glowing in the gathering dark.

Upstairs on the fifth floor, a man watched. His mouth twitched in mirth at their stupidity. They’d already interviewed him, giving him the usual cop-speak and learning nothing.

He was much too smart for them.

More would die. They deserved it.


FBI Special Agents Jantzen and Jantzen, a married couple, had already  parked their camper  when the suspect rolled into the campsite. They watched him set up his site.  They watched him crawl into his tent and zip the  flap.

Steve  kept watch while Ellie slept. They switched, with no activity to report. Just before dawn, it was time.


Noiselessly, they exited their camper, splitting to cover both sides of the tent.

“FBI! Come out, hands up!”

No response. Steve motioned Ellie to cover him as he  opened the flap.

The tent was empty.

Then Steve saw the note :  “GOTCHA!”

100 Word Challenge

…this time next year…


Ginny lay quietly, covers tucked up to her chin, watching the lights from the bar across the street flashing off and on like a heartbeat.  Her room was in the very front of the apartment, which meant she often drifted off to sleep listening to the sirens, the drunken singing or yelling, and the constant stream of traffic that never slept.

Mommy would often come in to kiss her goodnight, and spend a few minutes smoothing her hair.

“Someday, Ginny, we’ll move away from here. Maybe. . . . .this time next year. . . . “

Paper and Tinsel (100-word challenge)

‘Twas two days before Christmas. Sharon shuffled from her bedroom toward the kitchen  when something glittery caught her eye. Tinsel. All over the living room floor.

Her heart stopped. There was paper, too, torn and crumpled. On the edge of panic, she turned toward the living room, dreading what she would find.

But all the boxes were intact.  And they were all there. What on earth. . . .

And then, suddenly and with no warning, the tree toppled and crashed at her feet. Out from the top branches,  the cat streaked out of the room and disappeared into the kitchen.

Dratted cat!