Category Archives: Short Fiction

Cover Band

Standard

Cover Band

This is a short fiction story I wrote back in 2016 using this photo prompt, which was found on Pixabay.

untitled

COVER BAND

It was all the guy’s dreams to be the next guitar god, the next rock star, the next featured cover on the Rolling Stone Magazine. I was no exception. I wanted the fame and fortune, and yes, the girls.

I saved my allowance money, bought a second-hand guitar, and practiced. That got me invited to be a member of a hopeful garage band. We had a few gigs around town, had some local fame, but then it died down; we went our separate ways.

In college, I majored in art and music. The entertainment industry still called to me. I wonder what happened to those guys from high school? Did they follow their dreams, become famous? I don’t know, but I’ve met thousands of rock stars who did find that elusive dream.

I enjoy what I do. I may have never become famous for my guitar or voice, but my talents are in demand now. I’m famous in my own way. I design album covers. The burning guitar is my latest piece.

~

Thanks for visiting! Peace ☮️

© 2016 & 2021 BS

An Older Post – Freedom

Standard

An Older Post – Freedom

***

From 2016

***

Click to view

THE BIG ESCAPE

Turned loose in a large green field, the game players ran around willy-nilly. All the rules and regimentation were forgotten in this first taste of freedom. They shouted, and laughed, and kicked all the balls as hard as they wanted to.

There were no grown-ups telling them how to behave. Their uniforms became grass-stained, their shoes muddy, but they didn’t care. This was living!

After awhile they became tired and thirsty. This was a new feeling…uncomfortable. Looking around for an answer to their unanticipated quandary, they became worried. How would they get back home? Where was their home?

~

Back at the activities center, John and Joe looked at the game table.

“What happened to all the little foosball men?” John asked.

***

Thanks for visiting! Peace ☮️

© 2021 BS

8th Annual Contest of Whatever – CoW 2021 – Big ‘ol XXX

Standard

8th Annual Contest of Whatever – C o W 2021 – Big ‘ol XXX

This time last year I had this C o W post ready to go, and then … Murphy struck big time.

But I saved it … I didn’t XXX it out – now here it is 🙂

Big ‘ol X in the sky

The Eighth Annual Contest Of Whatever!

The Seventh Annual Contest Of Whatever!

In case you’re wondering, this is a fun contest hosted by the Evil Squirrel’s Nest. You can find out more by clicking the above link.

Last time the Topic was Murphy’s Law … This year it is X.

Black & White cow logo for C o W contest

Pink framed chalkboard says ‘Chompers Choppers’ (yes, I forgot the apostrophe) and a toy motorcycle with a squirrel riding on it

***

Murphy’s law is an adage or epigram that is typically stated as: “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong”.

Click to view

Chompers the Chopper riding squirrel was having a bad day.

Chompers got his name because he was always chomping on nuts. He was the champ chopper.

Now Chompers rode his Chopper Motorcycle like a champion chopper rider should. He rode around looking for the best nuts to chomp.

But, this was a crappy day.

“Cowabunga!” Chompers said, and his false choppers fell out of his mouth. Yeah, he wore chopper dentures – you know, he’d worn out his real teeth on all those hard nuts he’d always cracked.

Click to view

He turned on the standing light, so he could find his choppers that had fallen to the floor. But, as he did, the plastic cone shaped shade crumbled into a cazillion pieces.

“Cowabunga!” Chompers said again. Now what?

Well, he went to the kitchen to find a knife to repair the light with. But, he couldn’t find it anywhere.

“Cowabunga!” Chompers said again. “I must have accidentally thrown the knife in the trash. So he had to dig … and dig … and dig … Ewwww! But he found the knife.

“Cool!” Chompers said as he held the knife up. But, then he dropped it and it stabbed his toe.

“Cowabunga!” Chompers said again, as he hopped around dripping blood all over the kitchen.

As he hopped and bled, he stepped on his lost Chopper teeth in the floor, and broke them. But at least he found them.

Chompers finally managed to gather his wits, and hopped out the door to ride his Chopper. But which doctor should he see first? The one who would give him stitches for his toe, or the dentist to fix his Chopper teeth?

But, never mind – Murphy struck again before he could do anything. It snowed and was icy, and he couldn’t ride his  chopper.

But, never mind – He caught a cold or the flu, and didn’t feel like going anyway.

“Cowabunga!”

***

And then … and then … the flu (or maybe it was Covid? probably was) got him (me) sent to the hospital in an ambulance and had to stay there for a week! It was awful.

So then … everyone realized there was the virus and everyone had to stay home to be safe.

I didn’t get to post my entry last year so here it is … glad I didn’t X it out.

***

~note – most of this actually did happen~

***

Now enjoy this song!

“Ex’s & Oh’s” by Elle King

Thanks for visiting! Peace ☮️

© 2021 BS

Short Story – Crown the Wild Child

Standard

Short Story – Crown the Wild Child

***

This is a short story I wrote way back in 1985. It was for an assignment in a writing course I was taking. I’d send in the ‘homework’ and it would be edited with helpful tips by the teacher. I went through the whole course, and got my diploma.

This story she wrote in red ink that it was excellent. There were a few corrections, which I fixed. I don’t know how excellent the story is, but it was fun to write.

***

Crown the Wild Child

If you look up the name Stephanie in a what to name the baby book, you’ll find it means “crowned”, as in wearing a crown, ruler over all. This is one Stephanie who thinks it’s true.

With her thick, shoulder-length blonde hair bouncing, she enters the room and immediately everyone in the house knows she’s there. Her favorite greeting, “Hi, Mommy, hi Daddy!” is yelled to whoever may be there, be it man, woman, or child. If you’re not quick in covering your ears, they will be tortured as a high, piercing whinny comes out the child’s mouth. this is her normal and frequently used laugh.

Skipping across the dining room she doesn’t notice a glass of cherry red Kool-aid that falls and shatters on the floor in her wake. She looks out of her mischievous brown eyes and asks her friend if she’s seen the gorgeous new hunk of a boy that just moved in down the street. “He’s so sexy,” she gushes and swoons as if in love.

At age eight, the same age as Stephanie, her friend thinks boys are yucky, and secretly wonders if Stephanie is really a sixteen year old midget. Boys are Stephanie’s main topic of conversation .

School is Stephanie’s downfall. A necessary evil that must be endured for the required seven hours. Acting in her usual wild manner, she has her name put on the blackboard several times a week, with check marks sprouting after it like weeds after a rain.

After Stephanie stays after school for fifteen minutes’ detention, her ride home is harrowing. As she leans out the car window, her arms waving wildly, everyone in a two block area can her her screaming like a banshee to schoolmates the embarrassing refrain of “Hi, Mommy, hi Daddy. Call me at home, and I love you” to all the boys.

After getting home, Stephanie makes a quick pit stop by her personal file – the garbage can where with a blizzard of papers flying, she rids her notebook and book bag of all the evidence of notes sent home for disruptive behavior, and schoolwork with bad grades. At all cost her mother must never see these papers.

On Friday nights Stephanie is ready to stay overnight with her best friend. Already at her friend’s house, she calls her mother on the phone to beg permission. Standing with the phone propped up to her ear with her shoulder, she fiddles with a myriad of objects on the desk. Stuttering and pausing, she tries hard to get the words right in order for her mother to understand her.

Her facial expressions tell the story. As her barely visible brows frown then arch, and her closely set brown eyes sparkle, her thin chiseled nose sniffs and her mouth purses. She looks like a mouse trying to get through a maze. First standing on one foot then the other, she fidgets around, then with her back against the wall she slowly slides to the floor. Finally, with a shriek and a leap, she drops the phone and whinnies her good news.

On her face is the look of a triumphant winner. Head held high, eyes shining, she is smiling as if her ‘crown’ were really up there.

***

Thanks for visiting! Peace☮️

© 2020 BS

 

 

Short Story – Mr. & Mrs. Jolly Fellow

Standard

Short Story – Mr. & Mrs. Jolly Fellow

***

This is a story I wrote back in 2015. It was from a prompt on Friday Phrases, and the words were ‘alone again’.

My phrase for this was …  Her 5th marriage ended, just like the other 4. In a heartbeat, she was alone again. She wasn’t called the black widow for nothing.

Click to view

The Story …

The media hoopla that followed Mr. Jolly Fellow’s accomplishments in mountain climbing, went viral. As the first person to conquer Mt. Deception, he was pretty proud of himself. However, his braggadocio rubbed some people the wrong way.

The families of his climbing expedition team mates had questions about how their loved ones met their unfortunate ends. They hired an investigator to look into the incidents.

During the gathering of information, and interviewing friends of Mr. Jolly Fellow, along with mountain climbing experts, a Mr. Yeti came forward. He claimed to be an eye witness to the murder of those poor mountaineers. He had hard evidence, capturing on his phone’s camera, the image of one Mr. J. Fellow, tampering with the ropes and other equipment of his partners. This was just what the investigators needed to arrest Mr. Jolly Fellow…which they did. They also subpoenaed Mr. Yeti to testify at the trial.

At the preliminary hearing and indictment, it was learned that Mr. Fellow had an obsession with the tv show “Murder She Wrote” Had watched it for years, even the re-runs. He wanted to solve crimes, just like Angela, but in order to do that, he had to commit the crime.

At first, he just fantasized about it. Later, he was so far into his psychosis, he believed he ‘was’ Angela, and even dressed himself as a woman, in private. In his real life, he was still the friendly, outgoing, adventurer.

Mr. Fellow subsequently bonded out of jail, until the trial could commence. When he returned home to await trial, Mrs. Fellow was not happy. After learning of her 5th husband’s alter ego, she took her iron skillet, and whacked him over the head, thus keeping her ‘black widow’ status intact.

Breaking the news to their children, was not as easy. Little Bobby was following in his father’s footsteps, as he’d already mangled the teddy bear (and had now set his sights on his sister’s collection of Barbie dolls). Mom put him into a rehab facility for troubled youth, for treatment.

Her teenaged daughter already had an inferiority complex. She also had delusions of being a Disney Princess…I mean, going around wearing that fancy ball gown, won her no friends. She spent awhile in therapy sessions, but now, after her meds kicked in, she just spent her days vegging out on the couch, watching “Murder She Wrote”, and eating crackers and Haggis.

What was a widowed mother to do? She got an account on a dating site, looking for husband number 6.

After the death of Mr. Jolly Fellow, it came to pass, that Mr Yeti became a hero. He was featured on the cover of People Magazine, and now people all over the world knew that Yeti, the abominable Snowman, Big Foot, and Sasquatch were real. He landed a book and movie deal, that made him wealthy. He used the money to make improvements to his community, of what is now known as Yeti-land.

Mrs. Jolly Fellow was never held responsible for killing her husband with the skillet. Her actions were seen as a good deed, after all, for saving the Criminal Justice System a lot of money and red tape. They didn’t have to provide prison housing, food and medical for Mr. Jolly Fellow, for years and years to come.

Mrs. Jolly Fellow did find husband number 6. It was true love, this time, and she retired her skillet…at least for awhile…Mr. True Love pampered his Mrs., and gave her everything she wanted. He knew he had to, or…whack…

***

Thanks for visiting! Peace ☮️

© 2020 BS

Drain

Standard

Drain

***

tap tappity tap tap

I don’t really know Morse Code, but I tried tapping some sort of rhythm anyway. You know, just in case.

Sometimes I see a skinny little leg, other times an eye peeking out of the drain.

I talk to him several times a day … he says nothing.

He’s a big feller, for what he is. But he’s shy.

I don’t know how old he is, but can’t be very old. His kind don’t live long lives.

I figure he’s lucky to be living in the drain here, instead of someone else’s drain.

Someday soon I will lure him all the way out. I will catch him for re-location.

Tap tappity tap tap

“Come on out Mr. Spider.”

Click to view

***

Thanks for visiting! Peace ☮️

⌐ 2020 BS

Forgotten Phrases # 6 – Wilderness

Standard

Forgotten Phrases # 6 – Wilderness

***

These are short phrases (or micro fiction) that I wrote years ago.

This one I wrote for a writing challenge back in 2016.

***

Subject: Insects

***

Click to view

50 years after conquering the human race

they roamed freely in the wilderness

of concrete and glass

Never to fear bug spray again

***

Thanks for visiting! Peace ☮️

© 2020 BS

Short Story – Fakers

Standard

Short Story – Fakers Man Running on Facebook 4.0

***

Here is another little story I wrote using the words from the online scrabble game “Words With Friends”. The words in bold are the words that were played on the game board. Hope you enjoy it!

FAKERS

They were modern day hobos, Quin and Helio. They always figured it would be fun to go on a tear, and join in the weekly races held in their little country town. The thing was, everyone knew them.

They’d been friends since childhood, always together, getting into all kinds of zany situations. Once upon a time, the older generation teased them, called them dotty, which maybe they were, but then, they didn’t care. They’d just laugh it off.

So, it was decided. They both took plenty of vitamins in the days before the race. They wanted to look hep, so they put on their fake furs and top hats, and stood in a row at the starting line.

The ref nudged the judge. “Look at them, the judge said. “I’d trade jobs with you, if I could.”

Ley, you’re too anal for my job. You’d tag the wrong one, before the ink is even dry on the entry form.”

Si, you have a point, Baal,” said Ley. They both laughed.

“But, what if you put a hex on them? When they get to mid point, they’ll probably shed those furs. They can vie it out better.”

“Don’t nag me, Ley. I’ll do it. I’m gonna make Quin veer off course. He will trip over his own feet, fall and skin his knee. It will ooze blood. We will rush him to the ER, and he will feel woe at that time. It’ll teach those two fakers a lesson. Don’t put on airs in this town – we know who you really are.”

“Ah,” said Ley, “very good. Shall we start the races?”

Baal nodded and smiled, as he shot the starter gun into the sky.

***

Thanks for visiting! Peace ☮️

© 2014 & re-posted 2020

Forgotten Phrases # 1 – Footsteps

Standard

Forgotten Phrases # 1 – Footsteps

***

These are short phrases (or micro fiction) that I wrote years ago.

Subject: Footsteps

Click to view

“Don’t Cross the Line”

It got him, just as his next footstep crossed over the line.

He was warned, yet he took the dare.

With that one step he entered another dimension in time and space; he was never seen again.

As rolling thunder crossed the sky, echoes of doom’s footsteps signaled the end of days.

***

Thanks for visiting! Peace ☮️

© 2020 BS