In Keith’s words, “Using this photo (below)as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; even just a caption for the photograph. Either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at keithchanning@gmail.com before 6pm next Sunday (if you aren’t sure what the time is where I live, this link will tell you). If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to this page would be appreciated, but please do also mention it in a comment here.
Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries next Monday.”
The Wonder by John W. Howell © 2021
“Should we bother him?”
“I’m not sure. Looks like his mind is a million miles away.”
“That’s what I thought. If we try to get his attention he might have a heart attack.”
“We will have to interrupt his reverie sooner of later.”
“Why? We can just go somewhere else.”
“I don’t think that’s a great idea. I don’t know where else to go.”
“We could keep driving until we see someone dressed like him.”
“That could be a hundred miles. We need to be home by lunchtime.”
“Why’s that?”
“The guy from the Audubon society is going to meet us there remember?”
“Oh yeah. You are making a big donation.”
“Well, birds are our our friends.”
“What about this one?”
“I think it belongs to that guy.”
“How do you know?”
“He’s got hawk protection for his hands. Look at the symbol on his jacket. It screams hawk.”
“I must say he even looks like a hawk. Okay let’s go tell him his bird is with us.”
“Don’t tell him about the pupachino at Starbucks. Not sure he would like the fact we got one for his bird.”
“I think it would be wise not to mention the blueberry scone either.”
“I think you’re right.”
“What should we say when he asks how we came to have his hawk?”
“I’d go with the bird was hitchhiking and we picked it up.”
“He’s not going to believe that.”
“Maybe the truth then?”
” When you called to it and it flew in the house sounds like a fairy tale.”
“That’s why I like the hitchhike story. Any way it doesn’t matter we will get the hawk back to it’s rightful owner.”
“We hope.”
“Look at the hawk. It’s shaking it’s head.”
“I think he wants to stay with us.”
“He’s nodding.”
“One question.”
“Yeah?”
“Where did this bird learn English?”
“Let’s ask him when we get home.”
“I wonder if he’s potty trained.”
“He’s nodding yes.”
“Does Polly want a cracker?”
“He’s not a parriot.”
“I still think he wants a cracker.”
“And ruin his lunch? No way.”
Fiction Favorites 
Where can I get a trained hawk like that? Brilliant, John.
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The guy looked so confused I wanted to create a bird smarter than he. Thanks, Staci.
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That made me chuckle, John. Thanks.
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A chuckle from you is like a belly laugh from another. I’ll take it. Thanks, Keith.
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😁
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Hawk would be a pretty cool pet.
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Have to keep your gloves on though.
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Good one, John!
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Thanks, Jill.
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Delightfully absurd!
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Thank you, Liz. 😁
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You’re welcome, John.
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😊
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I got a kick out of Liz’s comment. Your mind is quite ‘delightfully absurd’!!
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Hahaha. Thank you, GP. Guilty as charged. 😁
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Well done, John. Keep the hawk. It seems like he’ll be happier. That guy looks a little sketchy.
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Hahaha. I thought so too.
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I feel bad for the guy, happy for the hawk, and now I’m wanting Starbucks. How did you manage to wrench all that out of me in so few words, John.
Another fun one! 🙂
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Hahahahaha. Thanks, Mae. 😁
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Who knew they like pupaccino and scones? The squirrel population must be breathing a sigh of relief.
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Like other predators he has squirrel for the main course.
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Oh, the mind of John Howell is a fascinating place! 🙂 I love this! And who knew a hawk would be a Starbucks fan. What a tale!
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Thank you, Jan. 😁
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Thanks for many giggles this morning, John! Sounds like a hawk I’d like to have around, too.
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Might make a nice pet.
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Loved it, John. I can’t imagine having a hawk in the house, but heck, stranger things than that have happened. And this one seems to be trained! Well done! 😁
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I think it is trained. In my mind it was trained so I guess it is. Thanks, Gwen.
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How big is that hawk, anyway? I sure hope those two don’t have small pets coz… Imma thinking the pupachino and blueberry scone are over and above its usual eats… And what the hell is a pupachino anyway?
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Starbucks give them to dogs in the drive through. (It is whipped cream in a cup)
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Well now… what rock I been hiding under?
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Um. Zeke needs one.
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I wonder if he would have liked one… 🙂
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I guess I still believe he is with you. Maybe his spirit is so loud that it caused me to write that. I think he would have loved one. 🤗
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Oh, he is. I STILL can’t take a piece of cheese without expecting him right behind me. I STILL expect him to stand up all excited when I pick up my camera bag (even if he couldn’t follow in the end). He is very much around. I bet Bailey still says hello to you, too 🙂 🤗
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Yes indeed. 😁
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😊
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Reblogged this on OPENED HERE >> https:/BOOKS.ESLARN-NET.DE.
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Thank you, Michael.
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Thoughtful wooven lines, John! Made me smile, and sounds similar to a conversation of Twiggy and Lucy.;-) Have a nice rest of the day! As i have seen, its just after lunch in TX. 😉 xx Michael
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Thank you, Michael. 😁 Glad you liked it.
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Thank you as well, also for the smile, John! xx Michael
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The conversations you get yourself into, lol. Enjoyed this, John 🙂
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I know. Thank you, Jacquie.
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Good one, John. 🙂 You went a long way on that picture. Good imagination.
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Thak you, Tim.
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I happen to like “delightfully absurd” as well, John. 🙂 Another clever response to the prompt.
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Thank you, Lauren. I can’t think of a better epitaph. “He was delightfully absurd.”
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🙂
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I wouldn’t mind having that type of hawk find me 🙂
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Me either.
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Always happy to see you being creative midweek, John! And I’ve been remiss in being a good blogger friend. But no less joy in seeing your posts when I do get here . . .
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Thanks for the visit. I hope all is well, Kristine.
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A short tale. Hope that you like it.
Pale; the hawks shadow on the ground on winter’s eve. Little sunlight was shed upon the ruins of the cottage that had once adorned this crag, the sky leaden, dark, filled with the promise of rain, of snow.The terrain to reach the crag; difficult. Scary. Scree, marsh, huge boulders left as the ice receded were in my way but I had to get there.I knew where she was, my wife, her car left in the high car park on the “Rest and be thankful”. A mountain midway between Arrochar and Inveraray in the West highlands of Scotland. She had called me before her mobile ran out of charge. The snow was falling, the car dead. I had meant to replace the battery for months but I was lazy and had let her undertake the long trip in an inadequate car.
I could see her car,in darkness, abandoned. She had left as the heat dissipated. Married so long my wife knew survival skills. Late nights and too much wine listening to me rattle on about how to survive in the depths of winter in Scotland. She was disinterested, a night away for her was in a classy hotel but listening to me drone on so often, I knew what she would do.A dead car, the chance of hypothermia had she waited. She would follow my half heard advice. There was a small cabin just below the Northern Ridge. Look for the hawks, I told her, The thermals allow them to soar.
That is where she had to be. The road was closed soon after I passed, the snow gates down but I had walked these hills for years. I knew the rules and what to do. I called mountain rescue and informed them of my position and task and that I felt there was no imminent risk to life. I set up a small tent in the snow near the edge of the Black lake (loch dubh) and gathered dry firewood. I did not know what condition she would be in when I found her. The little cabin,little more than a bothy, provided you with shelter and warmth for a few days whilst hoping for rescue. ”t was not a five star hotel but it would do.
The marsh was a morass of stinking bogs filled with toads and salamanders, leeches and newts but I had come prepared and so with only a modicum of difficulty reached the base of the mountain. The terrain was difficult, the bog the worst of it. The scree on the mountainside was treacherous but navigable as long as you were careful. I followed the circling hawks, having forgotten much of my gear in haste. Snow was rarely a problem in these mountains but could become difficult on rare occasions. This was one of these times. What should have been a twenty minute to half hour trek up a mountainside became an odyssey. Wading waist deep through drifting snow. Hell on Earth. Legs, thighs and back aching I found the cabin, better still I saw fog coming in from the west, the sea, It would warm things up. Cloud cover can be marvelous and I knew that she would be freezing. Having spent one night in the bothy before I knew that it meant survival. Not comfort.
I chapped upon the door, decorum, and it was answered by a naked girl.My wife. She was pale and shivering. “I knew you would find me. I knew that you would come for me. You think that I do not listen to your little tales but I do pay attention. I knew to head for this cabin, I knew that you would find me here. I knew to doff the wet clothes, no matter how cold it seemed. I knew it all because of you” I was busy smiling as her lips touched mine. She stood on her tiptoes, completely naked, and kissed me on the lips. You were not even here but you saved me. See. I was listening when you thought I was bored of your stories. I would not have lived without them.I shall not tell you of that night but we used the circling hawks as an anchor to set our course in the morning. The sea was close as it is everywhere in Scotland. And so followed the closest stream downhill. It is difficult to tell where you are when everything is white and the snow is deep. Eventually, dry and able we made the car. The Hawks saved her.
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I love this story, Ray. Can I send it to Keith for publication on his post?
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Hahaha!!
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😊
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I want that Hawk too! Clever and silly. I want a scone and what’s that drink?!! I want to try it too! 😂
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You can have it all at camp Howell. Thanks, Deborah.
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😂
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😁
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[…] The Wonder by John W. Howell © 2021 […]
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