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Low Brows and High Art

1 Apr

100 words for Friday Fictioneers based on the photo prompt below from Lauren Moscato.

Lauren Moscato

(Copyright Lauren Moscato)

Who was the artist?”

Salguod Yorlicam.”

How long’d it take?”

Three days. Dude asked could he put a mural on my wall, slept on the scaffolding I rented when he wasn’t painting, then signed it above the air conditioner when he was done and walked off. Some gallery owner just offered me three-hundred grand for the whole building. Said an original tromploy by Yorlicam was well worth it.”

A what?”

Tromploy. Means fool the eye. He did a good job, don’t you think?”

You going to sell?”

Shark fart in the water?”

Them That Ask No Questions Isn’t Told A Lie

18 Mar

100 words for Friday Fictioneers based on the photo prompt below from Rachael Bjerke, a green hued picture that seems synchronistically perfect for the celebration of the day of St. Patrick, who, as we all know, was canonized by Pope Bartholomeo the Pre-emptory for driving all the frogs out of Louisiana. Imagine that.

 

Rachel Bjerke

(Copyright Rachael Bjerke)

In 1954, a talking frog said goodbye to his thousands of brothers and sisters and climbed to the top of a magic fountain to ask about his future with the spirit that lived within.

“You will live in a big city but make your living on the street. Each year before the ponds turn to ice, people will inflate a gigantic likeness of you and pull it between tall buildings.”

“Why?”

“It’s not clear.”

“Anything else?”

“You will marry a pig.”

“I’m going back to the swamp.”

“It’s not easy being green.”

 

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Last Line Lane, Speed Limit — Somewhere in the Eighties

12 Nov

100 words for the film buffs of Friday Fictioneers, directed by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, based on her photo prompt.

 

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(Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields)

Was that Gaff behind the hotdog stand?

It’s too bad she won’t live. But then again, who does?”

 

A pair of tawny tomcats rested in the shade on a second floor balcony.

Deny’s will like that. I must remember to tell him.”

 

Two men at a bus stop share a bottle of liquor.

Well, what do we do?”

Why don’t we just wait here a while and see what happens?”

 

Walking through Hollywood, memories come alive. Well, most of them.

One thing about living in Santa Carla I could never stomach. All the damn vampires.”

 

 

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Lyme Regis, Then and Now

21 Oct

100 words for Friday Fictioneers based on the photo prompt below.

 

Loch ness2_edited-1

(Copyright The Reclining Gentleman)

 

“Sooty-winged tern.”

“Pterosaur.”

“Common shelduck.”

“Dimorphodon.”

“Stop that, Mary. None of those creatures are out there.” said Mary’s birding partner, Shannon, from behind her binoculars.

“It’s not what you look at,” Mary replied quietly. “It’s what you see.”

“Leave Thoreau out of this.”

“I can’t help it, Shannon. In the Jurassic period the ancestors of today’s birds ruled these wetlands.”

“When was the Jurassic?”

“Long ago, Shannon. In deep time.”

 

In the distance, curtains of mist parted. Something rose silently from the water.

 

“What on earth?”

“Plesiosaurus marcrocephalus.”

 

 

 

PLESIOSAUR SKELeton

(Research for this week led me to the story of Mary Anning, whose spirit moved through my character, Mary, and breathed life into my tale. She was a fascinating woman who should be remembered for all that she endured thoughout her life and for her contributions to our present day window on Deep Time.)

Like Roses

13 Oct

 

I usually only post when the subject has merit of some sort. Today I’m posting because I want to share something and ask a question.

I’ve been sorting through five and a half boxes of old manuscripts of the first novel I co-wrote with John Pace, titled The Last Resort. I’m saving files of attendant research and snippets of early copies to establish provenance and throwing the rest away. In one box, along with several ‘good’ rejection letters from major publishers at the time, letters from our agent and bits of history germane only to us, I found four copies of a poem which I’ve included below.

Something about it resonated with me and I thought about using it as a flash fiction submission for Friday Fictioneers. Have any of you have ever read Like Roses. Can you tell me the name of the author?

Sincerely,

Doug

 

P.S. To those of you who have ‘followed’ me recently…and to the faithful old timers…thank you. I hope you agree with my preference for not constantly spamming this space with filler. I do appreciate your readership and try my very best not to abuse the privilege. Aloha, D.

 

Like Roses

The freshness

of her smile delighted;

Like roses.

And her life

was filled with beauty;

Like roses.

Peaceful

from the land she grew;

Like roses.

Abruptly

but inevitably she was snipped;

Like roses.

May the earth

fall gently on her coffin;

Like roses.

What do you think of this poem? (WordPress will not let me add spaces between stanzas…or this poor workman doesn’t yet know how to format in WordPress) Who wrote it? John Pace? Perhaps someone out there knows the author. I’d like to give them credit. Thanks for reading.

Like roses

Musings

10 Sep

100 words for Friday Fictioneers, all of whom can see their reflections in a mirror. Rochelle Wisoff-Fields frames the photo prompts and this week’s is from Janet Webb, mayor of Webb City, Missouri. Thank you, Janet.

 

Melete's Mirror

 

 

Woke up, fell out of bed, dragged a comb across my head. Found my way downstairs and had a cup, and looking up…

…I shake off Aoide’s insistent voice. Nothing in five weeks and now she’s all I hear. Figures from the past speak to me, an incoherent cacophony. Mneme making up for lost time? There is a note on the hall mirror.

Melete's Message

 

So, back on the horse.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mrs. Mayor

Mayor of Webb City

Vampires From the Sky!

10 Jul

 

Vampires from the sky

 

Not really.

 

 

(I kept it short because stories with this subject matter tend to bite. Thanks to Kelly Sands for the other-worldly picture.)