Category Archives: Flash Fiction

Writing Nerdy About Sporks

“Let me tell you how I came by 1,000,000 sporks and what I plan to do with them…”

This is a prompt from Writing Nerdy this week. I have to confess that I had to google “spork” to see if it was a real word and found out it is a combination of a spoon and a fork. Another name given for this handy product is “foon.”

Hey diddle, diddle

The cat and the fiddle

The cow jumped over the moon

The little dog laughed to see such sport

And the dish ran away with the foon.

How I Came By 1,000,000 Sporks and What I Plan To Do With Them

I was standing in my backyard one afternoon when suddenly the sky clouded up getting darker and darker. A lightening bolt flashed in the distance and I heard the loud rumbling of thunder. Rain started falling and pelted the water in the pool. Were the drops getting bigger? What was making that loud splashing noise?

I walked over to the pool to investigate disregarding the fact I was getting soaked. I looked over the edge of the pool and saw there were all these white objects floating on the surface and, as they piled on top of each other, some of them were sinking.

I ran over to get the large net we used to scoop leaves out of the pool and scooped up about a dozen of these little white plastic things. I was astonished to see they were white plastic spoons. They did not look like regular spoons because they had little teeth on the edges like short prongs of a fork. I recalled getting these kind of spoons sealed in clear plastic from fast food restaurants.

I was not sure what to make of all this. I thought I better go back inside and get out of the rain. I could think about this odd occurrence over a nice cup of chai rooibos.

The splashing in the pool continued for about 30 minutes. I worked up my courage to go out and see the final outcome. I had to get close to the pool to believe what I was seeing. The backyard was flooded with about a half foot of water. I sloshed my way over to the pool.

There was a small mountain of the plastic utensils in the center of the pool. The water had been displaced by their volume. It is hard to find enough adjectives that would adequately describe my emotions. A few would be flabbergasted, dumbfounded, mystified, astounded, rattled, shocked and stunned.

I went back into the house to text my husband. How were we going to clean up this mess? I turned on my computer to distract myself for a bit while I tried to get control of my nerves.

That was when I saw the bulletin. “Plane carrying large shipment of plastic products from China struck by lightening over Los Angeles today…many Angelinos reporting strange plastic items falling from the sky during rain storm.” Another headline proclaimed, ” It’s Raining Sporks in LA! ”

We had to rent a large dumpster and hire a man to come and shovel all the sporks out of our pool. The story was written up in our local newspaper, The Acorn. The headline read, ” Chinese Sporks Overflow Local Pool.”

We decided to donate our sporks to all the schools and senior centers in the county for craft projects. Our local school made a spork sculpture in our honor. The kids made the sporks into a large hulking superhero character. They called the sculpture ” The Big Buff Foon. ”

Trio No. 3 – Esmeralda the Good Witch and Candy Bar Pie

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Cassiopeia

It was a dark Halloween Night. The trick-or-treaters had all gone home to assay their sugary loot. Esmeralda turned off the porch light and sighed with relief. Finished with the relay she and her husband Cornelius had made back and forth to the front door with their bowl of assorted goodies. Cassiopeia, their cat, has observed the goings on from a safe distance.

Many of the kiddies had commented on how authentic Esmeralda’s costume looked from her beautiful star-studded pointed purple hat down to her pointy green high heel boots.

Her emerald-green eyes surveyed the remains of the treats. She was able to resist the temptation to sample a few. There was something better waiting for her in the refrigerator. She was looking forward to this late night treat.

The special treat Esmeralda had stashed away was Ben and Jerry’s Candy Bar Pie. She took one of her pretty ice cream bowls out of the cupboard, gathered her ice cream scoop and opened the refrigerator eagerly. But wait. It was right here. Where did it go? Oh no!

Cassiopeia sauntered into the kitchen to see what all the commotion was about. The container sat on the counter. A few dribbles of ice cream running over the side of the carton. Esmeralda peered inside the container and saw it was empty. Cassiopeia jumped up on the counter and approached the carton curiously. She tasted the remains of the yummy treat. She looked at her mistress as if to say ,” Any more?”

” It’s all gone Cassie,” Esmeralda said as she slowly turned and noticed Cornelius. He was on the couch watching one of their old DVDs, ” Bedknobs and Broomsticks” while spooning something into his mouth. “This ice cream is great! This is my second bowl,” he exclaimed.

Esmeralda felt the heat rising inside her. She marched toward Cornelius with the empty carton, brandishing the ice cream scoop like a weapon. Cornelius looked into her eyes and said, ” You’ve got to stop spending so much time on your computer with that blog. You look terrible and your eyes are red and bulging.”

“Thanks for saving some for me,” Esmeralda said sarcastically as she held up the empty carton. “What, oh, no worries,” Cornelius replied with a grin. She stood glaring at him and pondered whether or not she should turn him into a toad when he said, ” I know how much you love this stuff so I bought another carton this afternoon. It’s out in the freezer in the garage.”

The strange red glow in Esmeralda’s eyes disappeared and her eyes glistened with tears of joy as she realized how thoughtful Cornelius had been. She smiled sweetly as her grip relaxed on the ice cream scoop she had been clutching a little too menacingly.

So their Halloween was saved and Esmeralda settled in to watch the DVD and have some Candy Bar Pie of her own. Even Cassiopeia got to have a dish of it. Which was just divine in her opinion.

|The Daily Post Trio No. 3|

This little tale is based on a prompt from WordPress to write something that includes a dark night, a refrigerator and tears of emotion. In case you wondered at where this was going and why. 🙂

The Witch’s Broom

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I sat abandoned in the corner near the hearth. My mistress had gone on to the otherworld. Dust and cobwebs gathered at my feet. A few insects had made a home in my wood. The cottage felt so lonely and cold. I wondered what would become of me.

A troublesome shadow appeared in the doorway. Tom Prattle, a pestiferous bootlegger surveyed the abandoned cottage. He called to his buddies, “Hey Buck !, Carl ! Come over here and take a gander. This would be a great place to set up a still and store the brew.” The scruffy bunch clomped into the cottage with their muddy boots making tracks all over.

” We can clear all this old stuff out of the room and see what we’ve got, ” Tom thought out loud. The men started tossing my mistress’s meager belongings out the door of the cottage. Tom grabbed me to toss out with the rest. I decided I did not like this new master and his plans for my home. I lifted off from the ground with him still attached.

We went for a wild ride around the tops of the trees. He gripped me with his stubby fingers, his eyes popping in horror, his mouth forming a silent scream. He buddies watched gape mouthed from below. After making a couple of loop-the-loops, I swooped down and threw my passenger down the old well out front. He was screaming and hollering for his friends to get him out. The last I saw him he was making a hurried retreat down the road with his gang close behind.

As I floated back to the cottage I saw a ghostly apparition at the door. My mistress smiled and said, ” There you are. I almost forgot you. I could not leave my loyal besom behind.”

Then we flew off high above the tree covered hills and across the boundary to the otherworld.

|Which Witch|

Tipsy Lit Flash Fiction Contest Entry: The Chronicle of Aine Part I

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Chronicle of Aine Part I :The Shapeshifters

My name is Aine. I am a Druid priestess of Ireland. It is the 5th year since I shape-shifted. I fly over the beautiful land of my birth. I see my people being persecuted for the old faith. I have enjoyed swooping down on the traitors and gouging them with my talons. I must be more careful because one of them almost caught me last time.

I am descended from a long line of Druid priests and priestesses. I began my training as a priestess twenty years ago. I was taken from my family home when I was 5 years old and brought to the temple. Our teachers were very patient and loving. We were required to memorize all the holiday rituals and prayers. Some of my earliest lessons were the prayers that are said on the arrival of the new moon. I learned to read the weather patterns and the signs of the change of seasons.

If we learned our lessons well we were allowed to have time to explore the wild areas near our temple. I enjoyed learning about all the local plants and animals. Many of the animals and birds were my playmates and friends. I learned to speak their language. They would tell me of all that happened in their world. They would warn me if any stranger approached.

We were encouraged to spend time with the Old Ones. I always liked the Old Ones the best. They would tell us the history of our people from time long past. The Old Ones taught me the skill of shapeshifting. Only a few of us were chosen for this training. It takes a lot of energy and concentration. When I first started to practice shapeshifting it would exhaust me and I would need to sleep for several days afterwards.

I take pride in saying I was one of the best students. There was one other who was my equal, Aodhan. He would often join me in exploration of the wild areas. He was very skilled in reading nature signs and the traces of the outsiders. He mastered shapeshifting quickly and enjoyed taking the form of some of my animal friends and playing tricks on me.

As we grew older our relationship changed. He became very jealous when I was with other friends. One day as I walked in the sacred grove Aodhan quietly approached in the form of a stag. I recognized him before he could startle me. He told me he had grown tired of the training and felt he knew enough to leave the temple and practice as a sorcerer on his own. I said that he was wrong to think himself wiser than our teachers and the Old Ones. He became very angry with me and disappeared in a cloud of smoke and fire. I heard the next day he had gone.

Samhain for Which Witch Blog Hop

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8817621285_064c2c9038_z The High Priestess

Aine

Samhain, saying your name creates a deep vibration in me.

Are you evoking a memory from a past time?

A racial memory from my Celtic roots

Maybe I was a Druid many seasons ago

Celebrating the coming of the New Year.

Hallowe’en has its roots in Ireland. The Irish brought the holiday to America. It was derived from a most important Celtic one called Samhain, (sow-en).

At Samhain it was believed the barrier between the worlds of the living and dead was very thin and that spirits walked the earth. Some of those spirits were not friendly. People would dress up as spirits in order to confuse them and protect themselves. The spirits of dead family members came to visit. People left their windows and door open to let them in and prepared special foods for them and left it on the doorstep. The elders would talk of what happened over the past year to inform the spirits. This evolved into children wearing costumes and going door to door to ask for special treats.

Another tradition on Samhain was to light a bonfire. The ashes from the fire would be spread on the fields in hope of increased fertility.

When Christianity came to Ireland the old ways were discouraged. Christian holidays took the place of the Celtic ones. All hallows eve became the holiday Hallowe’en and the old traditions of wearing costumes and going house to house became part of the new holiday.

The Witch Hunt

As I stared into the camp fire I heard someone whisper, ” Samhain, beidh tine chnamh againn anocht. Oiche na sprideanna.”

“What did you say?”

I turned toward my husband. ” I didn’t say anything.”

“I thought I heard you murmuring something but it did not sound like any language I have ever heard.”

“I was just thinking about how nice the fire looks. Maybe I spoke out loud without being aware of it.”

“Maybe.” He looked skeptical.

That night I dreamed that I was in a field standing before the bonfire with all of the people from the village. I was chanting a special blessing and telling the people to gather their embers for lighting their home fires. A few villagers would stand guard over the bonfire over night. In the morning the ashes would be gathered to spread on the fields in hopes of greater fertility.

I warned the people to take care as they moved about this night and journeyed back to their homes. There could be bobodha and taibhse roaming the land this night, oiche na sprideanna.

I am Aine, a Druid priestess. I continue to practice my religion and customs but I am being hounded by the proselytes of the new religion. They have no tolerance for the old ways. They say I am a witch.

I have places of refuge in the village and hidden places they know nothing about. I know it will not be long before they find me. I will be driven further and further into the wilderness. I am writing a chronicle of my life in a journal. I will bury it at the foot of the sacred oak tree. Someday it will be found and others will know of me and my time on the earth.

The old ones taught me about shape-shifting. I will take the form of a beautiful falcon. Those who hunt me will never see me again. I will be flying over my beloved land.