Hope…

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C. Google images

 

It was the last stop. If they could not find food and water here, they would surely die.

Charles bent down next to the water and cupped his hand to his lips. The salt burned as much as the tears in his eyes. The water would have to be desalinated, but it was water.

Above him, on the bank, the others looked out to sea. The waters churned against the shore, bringing ashore the floatsam of their ship.

‘Fish!’ Charles called up to the others. ‘We can eat fish!’

And so, Hope was renewed. They could and would survive. It wouldn’t be easy, but they could do it.

WC: 108

Authors note: Charles is the person in the red shirt, below and to the right of the people standing on the rock. He’s hard to see.

Thank you once again goes to What Pegman Saw for taking us to a new place we’ve never been, this week to Cape Town, South Africa. If you’ve enjoyed this little story, then please, come out and enjoy some others at: https://whatpegmansaw.com/blog/ . Just follow the prompt tag to the little blue frog… your adventure awaits.

 

“Spark”

J Hardy Carroll

C. J. Hardy Carroll

She lifted the receiver and made the final call. It was an emotional moment, after all, the old Ford had served as her home several times over the decade she’d owned it. It was her “safe” zone where she could curl up in the seat, all doors locked, and feel totally at ease. It was the only thing of value she had left. Gulping, she dialed the tow company…

‘Yes, Ma’am, sixteen minutes.’

She hung up, walked across the parking lot and patted the old, spray-painted hood. ‘Well, Betty-Boop, it’s time so say goodbye.’ Sniffing, she wiped away a tear.

Wc:100 words exactly.

Thank you to our lovely hostess Friday Fictioneers,, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Thank you, J. Hardy Carroll for our photo this week. You can find us all at: https://rochellewisoff.com/?wref=b

Author’s Note: So many of you know that I’ve been virtually without my car since April 25. In that time, I’ve walked 698 miles, and have lost so much weight I’ve gone from XXX pants down to a Large… a good thing, but I could think of a million better ways to do it. In that time I’ve been actively seeking both employment and an affordable used car both to no avail. Family decided that we had to have a car and so bought me a “new” used Chevrolet Cruze. It’s got so many safety features and warranties that I’m still blown away by it all. I named her “Spark” for her fire engine red color. Let’s just say that Spark has Spunk!

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My “New” car. Thank you, Tom Gill Chevrolet for getting me back into a Chevy!

 

 

Old Batty

Authors Note: Thank you, Rochelle, for your car memory that inspired this glimpse into the past. 🙂 The car in question was named “Old Batty”.

Kent Bonham

C. Ken Bonham

My first car, an old police cruiser. Had a heck of a passing gear. Chuckles. Cost me $500, paid through sweat work at the police department. It was grey, and smelled funny.

On my first trip to the mall, I discovered the “interceptor” quite by accident. Got busted by highway patrol. Officer laughed at my fear as I said I didn’t understand what had just happened. 35Mph to 110mph in a matter of seconds. He graciously explained how “not” to engage the gear, and followed me to the nearest gas station. My tank went from full to empty as well.

WC: 100

Don’t have a pic of the actual car, but this could be a dead-ringer for Old Batty… The remains of the police decal remained with the car until the day it died.

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If you would like to join the 100 word weekly writing craze known as Friday Fictioneers, please join us out at the blog of our lovely hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Thank you, Janet Webb for such an inspirational photo this week. We love to see you stop by, and maybe even share a story with us.  You can find us all at: https://rochellewisoff.com/?wref=b

Junque Boutique

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C. Janet Webb

It wasn’t much, but it was all the world. Kelly sighed. She couldn’t believe that she’d found any of her family’s heirlooms in the old ‘Junque Boutique’. Without even looking at the price tags, she pulled out her wallet and paid the old storekeeper.

‘These all came from the same family…’ His voice rasped. ‘They lived over on Miller’s street. He built the water and sewer systems for the village back in the day. His daughter was a hell-raiser.’

She shrugged as if what he said meant nothing at all to her. She just hoped he didn’t recognize her.

Wc: 99

 

If you would like to join the 100 word weekly writing craze known as Friday Fictioneers, please join us out at the blog of our lovely hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Thank you, Janet Webb for such an inspirational photo this week. We love to see you stop by, and maybe even share a story with us.  You can find us all at: https://rochellewisoff.com/?wref=b

Staple of Humanity

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C. Claire Sheldon

She stared at the cup of staples, contemplating. What does one do with such a collection, anyway? Then like a mad dervish, she poured them out on her desk, grabbed the glue and began to form…well, something.

Slowly, staple by staple the statuette grew. Long strands became misshapen legs. Short strands awkwardly posed arms. A massively tangled ball became the torso, topped with a smaller one for the head.

In the end she sat back with a smile. “Waste not, want not” her lifelong mantra became a representation of humanity. Tangled, full of sharp points, and messy.

WC:97

If you would like to join the 100 word weekly writing craze known as Friday Fictioneers, please join us out at the blog of our lovely hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Thank you, Claire Sheldon for such an inspirational photo this week. We love to see you stop by, and maybe even share a story with us.  You can find us all at: https://rochellewisoff.com/?wref=b