Friday Fictioneers – 4/12/2013 – “Eye of the Beholder” – Genre: humorous (G)

photo courtesy of Sandra Crook

Friday Fictioneers – 4/12/2013 – Genre: humorous (PG)

Eye of the Beholder

George walked onto the porch, stopping in his tracks.

His eyes widened and his muscles tightened.

“She, finally, did it!”  He thought.  “She stopped with the painting crap and the photographs and bought something worthwhile.”

The bike was a conglomeration of welded parts, scrap, and some rusted components.  To George, it was beautiful.  He slipped off his suit coat and hopped onto the bike.

The handlebars came off and the seat snapped.  George went flopping to the porch.  His wife, Carolyn, rushed out the front door.  She stood, sneering at her laid out husband.

“Art, George.  It is – was art.”

Friday Fictioneers – Uncle Waldo – genre: humorous

Friday Fictioneers –

Uncle Waldo

Sally packed most of the things pulled from the house.  Waldo, her uncle on her mother’s side, had passed on at 81 three days ago from a heart attack.  He had been the love and laugh of her life. Always the jokester; he had lived frugally.  She kept the Hanukkah menorah, the old dial phone, and a photograph of her beloved uncle.  The picture was for tomorrow’s service.  She didn’t feel right.  She looked hard, then picked up a bright red crayon and drew a beard and mustache on her uncle.

“There,” she thought as she smiled, “Now it’s right.”

______________

Namaste,

Scott

Friday Fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers’ photo prompt for this week:

100-word story for Friday Dec 7, 2012:

Well, I am late this week.  I try to post on Friday, but got behind in my posts and forgot.  So, I will post this on Sunday and hope you all still get to read it.  I will read a lot of them tomorrow (12/9) when mine is posted.  Happy writing!!!

 

Heading Home – 12/8/2012

 

Scott stood in the dimly lit room looking at all the strangers.  He saw the hallway with the bright light at the end.  He walked to the hallway and stopped.  A voice spoke quietly to him.

“Come on in.”

“You know, she’s all alone right now with no one to look after her.  I don’t think I can come right now.”

“Okay, you don’t have to.”

Scott opened his eyes to find himself nearly immobile, in a hospital bed.  He had been there for ten days.

Quietly, he realized that he had chosen the toughest path, but never regretted it.

 

            True Story – This is, pretty basically, what happened when I had my stroke and was in the ER and after.  It seems interesting to me that when I finished the last line I had exactly 100 words – then again, maybe it wasn’t so “interesting”.  It’s just the truth.

Namaste,

Scott

Friday Fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers 10/26/2012

My Story:

Near Perfection

By Scott L Vannatter

October 26, 2012

The table was simple, yet elegant.  He had seen to it all.

The waiter was polite; the food exquisite.  Celina was almost overwhelmed by the attention.  Two years together and Joel was even better.

She didn’t know what could make the night more perfect.

Then, she tried to put some sugar in her tea.  None would come out.

She shook the container harder, but it was no use.  She needed sugar with the tea.

She gave up and took off the lid.  The plastic bag fell out.  When opened, the ring glistened.  Joel took it and dropped to one knee.

Friday Fictioneers

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Taking the Bus

Friday Fictioneers 10/19/12 (Two Versions)

Ken waited until the bus doors were shutting before he ran up and pounded on the glass.

“Thanks,” he told the driver as he gave his ticket.

He sat and glanced at the people riding with him.  Several older people, a couple of fat guys, some kids, and their mothers.  “Perfect,” he thought.  He waited about two miles into the desert before he stood up and pulled his guns.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is a holdup!”

All eyes fastened on him, deep red and glowing.  All moved toward him.

“Shit! Wrong bus!”  was all he had time for before shooting.

***** Number Two **********

Ken waited until the bus doors were shutting before he ran up and pounded on the glass.

“Thanks,” he told the driver as he gave his ticket.

He sat and glanced at the people riding with him.  Several older people, a couple of fat guys, some kids, and their mothers.  “Perfect,” he thought.  He waited about two miles into the desert before he stood up and pulled his guns.

“Holdup, Folks!  Stay Calm!”

One of the fat dudes raised a .38 and shot Ken in the forehead.

He stumbled back, and then stood, eyes red and glowing.

“I said, ‘calm’.”

_____

Namaste,

Scott