Jeremy never liked his job, but it was what was expected. He went into the office – his father’s office – day after day and read off test results and delivered bad news to those unsuspecting victims. ‘Hi Mr. or Mrs. so-n-so, I have your results.’ He’d flip through two or three pages of the chart before looking or rather looking through Mr. or Mrs. so-n-so.
Then he would say in his calm, soothing, monotone voice, ‘I’m sorry, but. . .’ He never quite understood why he used ‘but’ instead of ‘however’. However was just as good he thought. Or better yet why not start with the positive diagnosis. Probably because there rarely was a positive.
How do you put a positive on telling someone
This weeks Friday Fictioneers story is inspired by the photo below. I love antique cars and this photo had me with a rare case of inspiration overload. Don’t forget to stop by and read the other Friday Fictioneers posts.
Billy and the rest of the caravan pulled into the lane and came to a stop on the gravel road.
“I don’t know dad. Read More…
Beginning Monday, August 10th, I’m starting a 15 day writing challenge. I will write 15 short stories over 15 days, excluding Sundays.
Why am I doing this? I want to get back into writing and I’m hoping by doing this it will reset/jumpstart my writing again. I’m also doing this to develop writing and blogging habits.
For the challenge I’ll be using the following prompts.
Day 1: Use your MP3 player. Hit shuffle and use the fifth song on the playlist as inspiration. Include a lyric or lyrics as part of the story.
Day 2: Write a story about a family on vacation.
Day 3: Write a story in which your character finds a family heirloom/artifact. Describe the object and its significance.
Day 4: Write a story that takes place in the kitchen. Read More…
We may never see each other again. Enemy fire is heavy. If not, know I love you.
50 years later and you’ve never stopped saying, ‘I love you’.
This is in response to the WordPress Daily Prompt: Ready, Set, Done. I actually cheated a little bit. The first two paragraphs were already written before I saw the prompt, but the rest of it fall into the 10 minute guideline. I did some editing, but there’s still more to do and the story isn’t anywhere finished.
Constructive criticism is always welcome.
It was all that
I we had left to remember her by. A multifunctional tool, used to swat the flies that insisted on lingering around the hut, a duster for when the dirt, dust, and sand spilled in from the hillside, and a disciplinarian stick to us children in line. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.
I’m the oldest. The woman of the house now and I have to take care of the little ones. Well, there not so little. William is a year younger than me, 19, but he still acts like he’s the baby or rather he still wants to be treated like the baby. And he was for most of his 19 years, until mom had Clara and Tanya. They’ll be eight in a few weeks. Read More…
My take on this weeks Friday Fictioneers.
There it sat amongest the cobwebs and boxes, a painful but joyful reminder of years gone by.
Sarah didn’t understand why I kept it. I told her, “it’s a reminder that this ram gave its life to save Isaac’s.”
“Abraham,” she’d always say shaking her head and with a chuckle. “You don’t really believe this ram saved Isaacs life on that mountain, do you?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” One thing is certain, if it hadn’t been there Isaac and I would have starved to death and Sarah never would have forgiven me for killing her only son.