You Got Stuff?

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

“Seems a lot of people are cleaning house since the Covid thing came along.”

“Yup. If you’re going to stay home, you might as well do something you’ve been putting off for years!”

“You ever consider if people in third-world countries would think our junk is a treasure?”

“You ever consider that some of it could be donated, fixed up, and given to our own needy folks?”

“Good point. I’ve got stuff. You got any stuff?”


The two neighbors spent the rest of their walk making plans.

The Shop

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Walking into the shop was like entering a magic room. I’d never seen such a wonderful collection of indescribable trinkets, jewelry, novelties.

“Where does it all come from?” I asked the proprietor.

“Here ‘n’ there.”

“It is all so lovely. All handmade?”


“Those halloween skulls are intriguing. . . “


“Are they sold individually, or together?”

“All ‘er none.”

“You don’t talk much.”


“Will you bargain with me?”


“How do you ever sell anything?”


Irritated, I decided to leave. The door was locked. I glanced back at him. Cold-eyed, he said, “No sale, no exit. Your choice.”

Back in My Day


“Blasted new-fangled contraptions! Stinking, noisy, clogging the streets and creating chaos! If God had intend–“

“Granddad, come on! You sound like all the old fogies sitting in the pub complaining about how things have changed since ‘their day.’ Can’t you think of anything good that has happened?”

“Nope! Not a gol-dang thing! In MY day, youngsters didn’t disrespect their elders!”

“No? Huh. Seems I remember some stories. . .”

“Bah! Nonsense. None of it true!”

“Well, that’s a shame. It seems to me you had a lot of fun. Are you saying you’ve always been a grouch?”



PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

The children’s eyes, wide with wonder, reflected the glow of the performers’ costumes.

“Daddy, how. . .?”

“I don’t KNOW!” Irritated, Daddy flipped Erin’s hand away. “Just watch!”

Eli was more experienced. He knew how dangerous it was to bother Daddy. He leaned down and whispered in Erin’s ear, “It’s special cloth that can glow in the dark. They’re not on fire.”

“Oh.” Erin sighed, leaning against Eli for comfort. She gulped down a sob. “I wish Mommy was here.”

Hearing her, Daddy shook her by the shoulder. “Stop it! Right now! We’re here to have FUN!”

No Sightings


Every now and then the townspeople would see workmen on the property. Fencing repairs, trees trimmed, windows cleaned and changed out for the seasons. The house had been painted every five years.

No one ever sighted an occupant, though. Not once. And oh, how they tried. Binoculars, telescopes, cameras with zoom lenses. They even forced their children to go there on Halloween. The fence would open, the door would crack, a hand would reach out. But no one ever saw anything more. No face. Nothing.

It drove them crazy. Inquiring minds want to know 🙂

Golden Streets?

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Nan had stars in her eyes. She wanted to be one— a STAR, that is. She grew up watching old black-and-white movies with her mom, and they shared their daydreams of being one of the glamorous women in the lead roles. She was already beautiful. She accepted that without vanity, knowing it was a gift she hadn’t earned.

Now? Well, no one had warned her of the long days on her feet, slogging through the customers in the restaurant where she worked while trying to find the magic door to stardom.

No golden streets here. Maybe tomorrow.

A Box Car Legend

PHOTO PROMPT – © Jennifer Pendergast

On Sept. 1, 1931, Birdie and Edna Mae Martin had a son. They named him Lecil Travis Martin. He led an interesting life. He enlisted in the Air Force in 1949 and was involved in the Korean War.

One day, sitting in a cafe near the railroad tracks, Lecil saw a man he knew riding in a boxcar. “There goes Willie,” he said, and from that a song and a legend were born.

After he retired from the Air Force, Boxcar Willie became a beloved entertainer, famous for his hill billy style and persona.

Boxcar Willie Performs Century-Old Gospel Song Before Making A ...

New Order

PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays”

“Our plan is working well. Timely. It won’t be long now.”

“They are beginning to worship us. They wear chains around their necks with our likeness as a pendant. Bracelets, as well. They love us. They think we are like them. I find that quite amusing.”

“Indeed. When we cage them so that our people, and all other sea creatures, can come and watch them perform tricks at our command, they will begin to understand.”

“Yes. Too late. I relish the moment that understanding begins to dawn. They won’t think so highly of us then.”


PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Every possession had to be dealt with. The hardest were the ones that had been most beloved by their mother. Her photos: Family, Dad, things she wanted to paint some day. Her needlework: Hours of laborious cross stitch, crochet, sewing. Her numerous cookbooks and drawers full of recipes clipped from many sources.

Her paints and tools for painting. They reflected her love of color, of flowers, of seasons. The paintings would never make her rich or famous, but they reflected her joy in living.

She treasured everything she kept. Most of it had to be tossed.



The relentless sun baked the adobe house. It was cooler inside, and no one even noticed the box that had been delivered. Carriers no longer rang the doorbell or asked for a signature. “Drop and go” was their COVID policy.

As the hottest time of the day neared, the box began to move. It bulged, rocking and scooting against the locked gate. A persistent low buzz could have been heard if anyone had been there to hear it.

Finally, a corner tore open. Wider, wider still, until a reptilian head pushed through. No one saw it slither through the bars.