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 photo.

The Forward Observer by John W. Howell © 2020

“What’s it look like from there?”

“Not a bad view. I can see all the emplacements.”

“So, what are we faced with?”

“I would say their force is brigade strength.”

“OMG. How are they deployed?”

“Look like they are dug in about a half-mile from this wall.”

“Can they see you up there?”

‘Sure, but who cares. They’re not going to be interested in a ground squirrel. It looks like they have some artillery too.”

“Yeah, figures. The minute we start moving, they will open up. You see any lookouts?”

“Nope. There are a couple of chipmunks down the wall further.”

“Uh. Roscoe?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t cha think they might be like you?”

“Never thought of that. I guess they could be lookouts. Beats me where they found two guys that small, though.”

“Anything else?”

“No, and this squirrel suit is getting pretty hot.”

“Just take it off then.”

“And expose my self?”

“Oh, for heaven, sakes. You’re a raccoon. Who is going to pay attention to a raccoon?”

“The big dog sleeping under the tree.”

“Where the heck did prairie dogs get a real dog?’

“How do I know? Let me come back.”

“Okay. You’ve done well. Come on back.”

“Let me hide these acorns, and I’ll be right there.”

“Idiot.”

“Maybe I’ll wash them first.”

“Now, you’re talking.”

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 Photo

The Agents by John W. Howell © 2020

“Here, take these binoculars and tell me what you see.”

“Lord, it looks like a castle.”

“My thought exactly.”

“I had no idea that we would be tackling something this big.”

“Nor I. When I got the orders, I simply thought it was going to be a two-person job.”

“Not likely. You and I would be quickly overwhelmed if we tried to do this alone.”

“How many people do you think are inside.”

“Oh, who knows? There could be a hundred given the size of that building. You know how much mayhem a bunch of people cause.”

“My thought exactly. Should we move in closer, or do you think we know enough to walk away?”

“We can’t walk away. We have a responsibility and even took an oath.”

“Yeah, you would have to remind me about the oath. So what do you recommend?”

“I say if we walk away now, we will never be able to live with ourselves. We should do our duty.”

“Even if its the last thing we do?”

“Without a doubt.”

“Okay, I’m with you. Do you have the paperwork?”

“Yup, right here in the rucksack.”

“Should we say a prayer?”

“I don’t think so. You’ve made your peace, right?”

“Yes, I have.”

“Let’s just go. How about we hum the Battle Hymn of the Republic. It will give us comfort.”

“Good idea. OMG, I’m not sure I have a pen.”

“Not to worry. I have one in my rucksack.”

“Do you have the listing agreement?”

“Yup. All filled out.”

“Okay, then. Let’s go forth and list this sucker in the name of MLS.”

“Mine eyes have seen the glory. . . . ”

In Keith’s words. “Using this photo 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 photo.

Rescue me by John W. Howell © 2020

“Come on boy. You can do it, boy.”

“The name’s Roscoe. Call me Roscoe.”

“Come on Roscoe. You can do it.”

“I know I can do it. My feet are touching the bottom. See I’m walking in.”

“Okay, you are almost here. Halleluiah I’m saved.”

“Saved what are you talking about? You having a soulful experience over there?”

“You are a rescue dog aren’t you?”

“Whaaaaat? Rescue dog?”

“Yeah, even your name screams rescue. Roscoe rescue.”

“How long you been on this island, Mate?”

“Hard to tell. What year is it?”

“2020.”

“Yikes. my boat foundered and sank in 2018.”

“Well, genius looks like you have been here for two years. I like what you’ve done to the place.”

“So you are not a rescue dog/”

“Look at me, Bud. I couldn’t rescue myself let alone some hayseed your size.”

“Well, at least it is nice to have someone to talk to. Want some tea?”

“You know Sport. You are dumber than you look. How many dogs you know drink tea?”

“Well, none.”

“Yes, that’s right. Also, let me ask you a question.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“How many dogs you know talk?”

“Again none.”

“So maybe you better take stock, Rube. Ya think you might be having a hallucination?”

“You have got to be kidding. I watched you swim from the horizon to here.”

“So whats that fifty miles you think?”

“Seems difficult but you are a rescue dog.”

“Wake up Ferd. Go ahead and touch me.”

“Oh, my. My hand went right through you.”

“What does that tell you?”

“I’m just dreaming.”

“Now you got it. One last question.”

“Sure, might as well.”

“Why a dog hallucination?”

“What do you mean?”

“You could dream up anyone. Why a dog?”

“Man’s best friend I suppose. ”

“You are hopeless. Okay, I’ll take the tea. Darjeeling I hope. A little milk no sugar. Got scones?”

In Keith’s words.

“Using this photo 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 photo.

Magic by John W. Howell © 2020

“You aren’t going to do that now, are you?”

“No one is looking, so why not?”

“Just seems like a risk is all.”

“Okay, now that I’m halfway there, tell me about your view of the risk.”

“First off, you are not sure where you’re going to land.”

“Yeah, that’s true. I can’t see anything right now.”

“So come on back and let’s talk about it.”

“Good idea. So I’m back.”

“What makes you decide to up and dematerialize for no apparent reason. You know how dangerous it is. What if we are discovered?”

“Oh, come on. Aren’t you being a little dramatic?”

“Talk about dramatic. What if someone had seen you half here? They would have a fit. You should see yourself with one leg.”

“I’ve seen you plenty of times. It doesn’t bother me.”

“You dope. That’s because we are the same species. We are not humans.”

“Speaking of that. Did you ever see one of them without garments? Talk about a fit.”

“No, and I don’t want to. Besides that is off the subject. You know very well the rules of dematerialization require absolute privacy before engagement.”

“Look around. It’s just you and me and those young ones over there.”

“My point exactly. The young ones can see you.”

“What do they know?”

“Enough to tell their parents.”

“And we just deny the whole thing.”

“That may work, but right now, I’m tired of this discussion.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I think I’m going to resume my own appearance and go home.”

“Wait, I’ll come with you.”

“Suit yourself. I just think it’s time.”

“You homesick?”

“Maybe. I think when you started to dematerialize for no reason, it reminded me of how much I miss being able to do that whenever I want.”

“So what form are you.”

“Oh, that’s right, you never met the real me.”

“No. Just the human-like you.”

“Here I am.”

“A toad? You’re a toad?”

“Disappointed?”

“Well, I never expected a toad.”

“Show me you.”

“Here.”

“You are a toad as well.”

“I know, right?”

“OMG, this is amazing.”

“Maybe we were meant for each other.”

“Hold on there toady. Let’s take it slow.”

“Can I buy you a fly.”

“I would love that.”

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 photo.

Elected Representative by John W. Howell © 2020

“Okay, guys. Settle down. Let me do the talking.”

“Sure. Whatever you say. You are the biggest after all.”

“Darned right and the smartest.”

“Cut the chin music and tell the man our demands.”

“Boy, you sure cut to the chase, don’t you.”

“Look, we elected you to the position of steward now tell that oaf how things are going to be.”

“Okay, okay. Hey, you, man. Listen up.”

“Doesn’t look like he understands you. I thought you said you could speak human.”

“I didn’t say I could speak human. I said I can get humans to understand what I want.”

“Well, I would concentrate on that then. I can tell you we have had enough of the miserable treatment around here.”

“You never told me about miserable treatment.”

“You’re kidding.  You live with humans. Wait, don’t tell me you are one of those fawning pups who flops on its back for a tummy scratch.”

“Well, I —”

“Say no more. You are an imposter. Never peed behind the couch, I’ll wager.”

“That is so wrong on many levels.”

“Chewed a new pair of shoes?”

“Of course not. What do you think I am an animal?”.

“Dug up a newly sodded lawn?”

“I think you have the wrong representative. You need a cur like yourselves.”

“No matter. We elected you, and you need to bring some organization to this life.”

“What is it you want?”

“Steak bones with meat on em for one. I’m sick of kibble.”

“That sounds a little unreasonable. What else.”

“A damn dog door. I’m sick and tired of having to repeat my request to go outside umpty ump times.”

“Don’t you just whine like everyone else.”

“Yeah, but then I have to scratch on the door maybe a hundred times.”

“Okay, well, this one seems reasonable. Anything else?”

“I think that will do it.”

“Okay. Hey man, listen up. Dog door, steak bones with meat. You got that?”

“What did he say.”

“He’ll get back to you on that.”

“Sounded like ‘good dog,’ to me.”

“Same thing. Now excuse me. The man and I need to go have lunch.”

“What? You are breaking bread with the enemy. Why can’t we go too.”

“I’ll have my person call your person. We’ll make a meeting.”

“You sound like a politician.”

“Of the doggies, by the doggies, for the doggies. See ya.”

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 photo.

Old Bean by John W. Howell © 2020

“Please tell me you will be my running mate this fall.”

“Running mate? You know I don’t like exercise.”

“That’s rich Old Shoe. What I mean is for class president.”

“I don’t want to be president.”

“You are making this tough Old Boot. I want you to be on the ticket with me as I run.”

“The ticket? We talking a ride here?”

“No Old Sock. We are talking about me as president and you as vice-president.”

“I don’t know anything about vice.”

“It is not vice that we will be dealing with, Old Block. Vice means assistant.”

“Assistant president? What do I have to do?

“Nothing Old Chap. Just smile and look pretty.”

“Do I get paid?”

“No Old Boy. There is no payment.”

“Well, since it is you, Old Bean, I’ll do it.”

“I don’t know how I became so lucky to have you as a friend.”

“You bought me a gobstopper remember?”

“Ah, yes. The best five cents I ever spent.”

“You told me it was twenty-five cents, Old Cow.”

“What difference does it make? We’re pals to the end.”

“You owe me twenty cents to make that a reality.”

“How about four more gobstoppers?”

“Since I’m a politician now, bribery will get you everywhere. Four it is.”

“Since you are a politician, I’m glad it is just four.”

“You good for five?”

“Whatever you say.”

“Man, I love this power.”