Wait a Minute!

PHOTO PROMPT © Alicia Jamtaas

“Wait a minute, Son! You forgot your keys! Here, catch!:

“Thanks, Ma! See you tonight!”




Nedra thought the blinding light was the sun, setting under lowering clouds, turning their underbellies blood-red .

She lowered her visor, It seemed as if it were just–sitting on the road–in fact, it was moving toward her!

White-knuckling her steering wheel, Nedra looked for an escape from what she now recognized as headlights. She would have to turn within seconds to avoid a collision.

On her left, she saw a corn field. On her right was darkness.

She swerved hard left. Her car went airborne as the truck’s horn dopplered past. She landed hard, but upright. And she wept.

God Knows

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

The little boy stood still, his gaze locked on the girders. Leaves and detritus of all sorts clung to the rough cement.

The wind whistled around him. He pulled his shabby jacket tighter to his neck, but his eyes never left those pillars.

Mama grabbed his hand, but still he didn’t move. “Come, Itzak! The train is waiting!”

Itzak shrugged, as if coming awake. He picked up his small suitcase and obediently followed Mama. And the hundreds of other people.

“Will I ever see this again, Mama?”

“God knows! Now come! Draw no attention to yourself!”

The Day After Christmas

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

‘Twas the day after Christmas,

And all through the town

The people were resting. ‘Twas time to sit down!

Exhausted and sated, chock full of good food,

The people were tired, but in a fine mood.

Christmas Eve had been silent

As calm filled the air;

As people remembered,

And breathed out a prayer

Of thanks for the Savior, God coming as Man,

Who lived in eternity; His life here began

As an offering of hope and salvation for all!

The blessings of heaven in a baby so small.

High Crime?


Zing and Zang had spent a great deal of time of Zerkon, being debriefed on their experiences on Earth. Now, they had returned to study what Earthlings called Christmas.

They were confused.

“What terrible crime did these poor things commit?” said Zing.

“What an awful tradition! I thought their Christmas was a time of joy and love. Not for these poor creatures!”

Hearing footsteps, they blinked to invisibility.

A kind-looking woman squeezed each toy, decided they were dry, and took them down. “Tommy will be happy to have you back,” she said.

Zing and Zang felt a little sheepish.


PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Louisa stood still. She squeezed her eyes closed, opened them, shut them again. She stretched out her arm, searching for a solid wall, door, post–anything that wouldn’t move.

Waves of dizziness swallowed her, rocked her, pulled her downward.

The sound of rushing wind filled her head. She swallowed down the nausea, but it rose right back up.

Succumbing, she folded up into a heap on the floor. She drifted into the darkness, welcoming the release.

The Dark

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Annie’s gaze kept coming back to the flower high above the rest of the planter, stretching to find one last ray of the sun before it slid under the bridge.

Would the sun get wet when it dropped into the ocean? Is it so hot that even the ocean can’t smother the flame? And why is that flower reaching so hard to catch the warmth? It was never cold here.

But then Annie saw the whole picture, the rest of Mommy’s plants shrouded in darkness, and she understood.

She hated going to bed. There were bad things in the dark.

(PS: Word Press has taken out the little icon that showed the word count. I’ve discovered, though, that if you click on “Block” in the right panel and then highlight your story, it will show the word count. Maybe you’ve all discovered this. I’m a little slow with the tech stuff 🙂 )

The Cliff

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Each time she saw the cliff looming over the shore, she though of a loaf of bread rising in the oven.

Of course, bread was not covered in a crinkly blanket of green. Still, the image warmed her heart with its sense of home. For nearly 21 years, she had opened her eyes to that cliff. It was like a faithful old friend, steadfast, reliable, unchanging–until the earthquake that destroyed everything.

All that was left now was devastation.

She wondered where she would ever find home again.

The Boot

We owned a small motel in central Minnesota for three years.

One evening, a youngish man hobbled into the office. There was a medical boot on his left leg. We checked him in, turned on the “No Vacancy” sign and went to bed.

Morning brought the usual work. I unlocked the door of the young man’s room and nearly threw up from the stench. He had killed a six-pack of beer, tried at some point to use the toilet. He missed. There was a huge, stinking, reeking circle of urine in the carpet.

I ventured into the bathroom and was startled to see the medical boot upside down in the waste basket.

I hope he made it home.


PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

All she could see was shades of black and grey. Not one speck of color. Every day was a repeat of the previous day.

Her bed was her safe place. She could burrow under the blankets and drift off to sleep to escape.

There was no joy.

People had stopped visiting, calling, writing little notes. It was as if she, too, had died.

She got out of bed only to use the bathroom and have a cup of herbal tea.

Soon, she hoped, someone would find her corpse buried under the blankets.