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Quintessential Flash Fiction Week: June Recap


At Quintessential we’ve been doing Flash Fiction week. It’s fun and challenging for me! Members in the group post pictures from their cells and I write a quick story to go with the image. You're always welcome to join us! Read June's Flash Fiction:

What they say about falling off a horse is true. You have to get back on and try again. I hadn’t wanted to take this ride. It was all Jim’s idea. Once my motorcycle was fixed he hounded me. I flipped the kickstand back, white knuckling the handles through town. On the open road, I began to relax and by the time we stopped to rest I was in my element. The view reminding me of the beauty of nature, why I rode, and how the long stretches freed me from my demons.

“Look , Mama, golf balls.” his sweet voice sounded my ear as I held him close. They were were dozens of beautifully formed white spheres on the green lawn. The first fell to the pavement, craning open like an egg with no yolk. The tornado sirens went off. I ran with my son in my arms to hide in the closet, hoping that when the storm passed we’d see more perfection than destruction.

{VIDEO: Not pictured}

What is is about men? I mean they walk into the house with their noses in their phones. “One minute, honey. I have to return this e-mail.” … ”Huh, what did you say?” And then you get to repeat the answer to the same question that they don’t remember you asking over and over. But I take but my cell to record something we’ll remember for years and he starts acting like a ten-year-old. “Look at me!” The upside is I am looking at him. He’s my heart. And as annoying as photobombs can be, we’re here having fun. Making memories. Present in the moment. I forgive the way he makes me feel when I’m not the priority because I know when it matters he’s present.

It was so gray that nothing differentiated where the earth me the sky. The roads were the same color white as the fields and each window that I passed as dark as the last. The lack of color created a gloomy inhospitable scene. Yet, I knew that If I could make it another few miles there would be the glow of a hearth and a home cooked meal waiting on the table for me. It would fill my souls and warm my belly. Leaving me rejuvenated and ready to go back out in the snow and do my job.

I read the sign and laugh. Right? I’ve been doing everything right my whole life. The path to the left is worn by all the people who’ve walked this way before me. They didn’t follow the rules, so why should I?

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