PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields

Pablo rolled up one side of the canvas that shielded his flowers from the sun. It was already hot.

Miguel slept, wrapped in his dreams, stretched out behind the flower cans. He could sleep anywhere, a blessing of youth.

Pablo watered his flowers and fiddled with his arrangements, enjoying the fragrance and beauty, until he was alerted by the hissing rattle that warned of danger. Glancing at his own feet, he saw nothing. Moving carefully around the truck, he finally spotted the snake coiled near his son’s head.

His clippers were his only weapon.

The Wedding Dress

Photo prompt provided by John Nixon

Art walked past the store daily, smiling to himself at what people thought were antiques. Why, some of the things in that store were just like wedding gifts he and Rosie had received over 50 years ago! “Antiques! Huh!

Then, one morning, he stopped in shock, staring at the lovely wedding dress. Time misted his eyes with the memory of sweet Rosie walking down the aisle to marry him, wearing that very dress!

“Over 50 years,” he thought. “I wonder what the story is.”

He decided not to inquire. He hoped another couple had found joy, like his and Rosie’s.

Oh, Just do This. . . .

“Friend”: “So, how are you today? Any better?”

Me: “I’m okay. How are you?” (Because I always try to deflect.)

Friend: “You know, sometimes my back goes out, too. Have you tried a chiropractor?”

Me (sighing inwardly): “Yes, but he no longer touches my lower back.”

Friend: “Well, he’s not helping much! Are you taking calcium?”

Me (losing patience): “Yes. What I have is a condition. My bones are crumbling, pinching nerves. We treat the pain, but this is not going away.”

Friend: “Hmm. Well, maybe you need to change your diet. . . .”

Me: “Okay, nice to see you. Gotta run.”


PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

The trek had been arduous. Some died along the way, their long home marked with stone cairns.

After what seemed an endless expanse of desert, the land began to slope upward. A cool breeze carried the smell of fresh water, and their animals began to strain toward the life-giving perfume.

Some of the People had tears rolling down their dry, sun-dark faces as the temperature began to plummet. They could hear the rush of falling water, smell the vegetation, see the tracks of small animals.

The new settlement was called Minnehaha–Laughing Waters.

(I took a little poetic license with this one. It made me think of a favorite spot in Minneapolis. Here is the real Minnehaha Falls)

The Trellis


“Well, that’s something new!” Zing was puzzled.

So was Zang. “What’s it for? It’s not plugged in to anything.”

“Well, it leads to that balcony. Maybe it’s an outside entrance?”

“Too small for humans, though. They’d get stuck. Let’s go up and take a look.”

“You sure?”

“Of course. Go invisible and teleport up.”

When they neared the top, they heard, “Hey, Don, did you remember to water the tomatoes?”

“Doing it right now!” The balcony door opened. A bucket was tipped into the trellis, showering Zing and Zang as it flowed to the planter below.



The little roadside stand didn’t get a lot of business. Granny tried to shelter from the blazing sun under the old beach umbrella, but she kept having to move it as the sun travelled across the sky.

“Why do they put an old woman like me out here to bake under the sun?” she wondered. “I could be a lot more helpful inside that air-conditioned house. I could watch the baby. Or prep the veggies for supper. But they put me out here”- — – she gasped, clutching her chest as she hit the ground- – -“To DIE!”

Different Strokes

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

He snorted, as always, as he stood in the door of her office. “Tchotchkes. Bric-a-brac. How do you stand all this mess? Clutter, nothing but dust catchers!”

I’m not having this conversation with you again.”

“Right. They all meeeaan something to you. One day I’m going to clear it all out so you have space to work!”

“The day you do that, you’ll have lots of wide open space for yourself. I and my “mess” will be gone. Now leave me alone.”

“Bah!” He snorted again as he stomped away.

Elegy on a Rose

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

It is so lonely here. When I was cut, my life span ended.

They stuck me in a vase of water, now quite low and mucky.

I miss my siblings. I miss the outdoors. Why do people do this to us? Are we being punished for something? Our execution involves being left in isolation until someone comes in and fingers our petals. A human nose–disgusting!–sniffs us and says roses don’t smell as good as they used to.

You’d stink, too, if you were cut off from all your kindred and left alone to rot.


PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

The flower petals ruffled in the breeze. It was good, because the breeze concealed their conversations.
“What are you red guys doing in our bed? You have no business here!”

“We don’t know! It wasn’t our choice! We’d rather be with our own kind over there!”

One of the yellow flowers piped up: “But you look really pretty mixed together! The contrasting colors are brighter than if you were all separate.”

A red flower snorted. “There’s always a cock-eyed optimist!”

Modern Art?

PHOTO PROMPT © Carole Erdman-Grant

It sat out in the middle of nowhere. Empty, abandoned, it was representative of the whole town. Few people remained, but what was left of this little strip mall still got quite a bit of attention.

Graffiti artists plied their trade without fear of legal trouble. No one cared. The building had been covered, painted over, repainted so many times that there was no way of knowing how it had looked originally.

Messages in code were left. The occasional foul language was quickly painted over. Sometimes, artists worked together to create murals.

There was no harm done.