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

What was that? by John W. Howell © 2019

“What was that?”

“What?”

“That noise.”

I didn’t hear anything.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Sounded like a bomb went off.”

“There are no bombs around here.”

“Okay, maybe not a bomb but an explosion at the very least.”

“Okay, I’ll get up and investigate. Turn on the light will ya?”

“There. Watch those stairs.”

“I’m going to look out the bathroom window. I’m not going downstairs.”

“What do you see?”

“Looks like the neighbors behind us are having a barbeque.”

“What do you mean? Its five o’clock in the morning. Come back in here.”

“I’m just saying they have the whole sky lit up with their fire.”

“Let me have a look. I’ll be right back.”

“You’ll see.”

“Goodness. I think they have the whole neighborhood on fire.”

“Must be expecting a pretty big turnout.”

“We have to do something.”

“Like what?”

“Call the police or fire department.”

“I think you are right. Serves em right for not inviting us to the party. I wonder what they were going to serve. Brisket I’m guessing.”

“The fire department is on its way.”

“I’ll bet they would have had sweet corn too.”

“Will you please stop.”

“And ice-cold beer.”

“I don’t think it was a party.”

“You are just saying that since we weren’t invited.”

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

Again by John W. Howell © 2019

“Alphie come look.”

“What is is m’ love?”

“The rubbish bid has been tipped again.”

“Ack those boys.”

“Yes, and you need to set it right.”

“Me? Why not just let the rubbish blokes take care of it?”

“You know full well those blighters won’t lift a finger to right the thing. They’ll just pass by.”

“Okay but I’m getting distraught with this goings-on.”

“I know, dear, but what can we do?”

“Post a camera out by the bin and catch the little maggots who are doing this mischief.”

“Good idea. Let’s see. A camera and line feed couldn’t be more than two hundred pounds—”

“I get it, Bertie. For two-hundred pounds I can make many trips to the bin.”

“There we are, my smart man. Now pop off and set the bin right and I’ll put the water on for a lovely cuppa.”

“Ah, the shortest distance to getting what you want done, is through a tea strainer.”

“And a wee scone.”

“Be still my beating heart.”

“Now go on with ya and wear your scarf. It looks like a bit of chill in the air.”

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 Big Sleep by John W. Howell © 2019

“Harold.”

“Huh, what?”

“I hear a noise.”

“Come on, Blanch. You know I have to get up early and go chase those stupid chickens.”

“I’m serious. There is someone in the house.”

“Every time you do this. I get up and go searching, and it is always the same.”

“This time, it will be different. I thought I heard something in the other room.”

“I’m wide awake now, and I don’t hear anything.”

“Just a minute, and you will.”

“Still nothing.”

“If it is someone, what would you have me do?”

“Open that maw of yours and bite them on the butt.”

“What and then bring them to bed?”

“Oh, Harold. Just once I wish you could see my side of things.”

“Like your active imagination—Whoa, what was that?”

“See I told you. It is a burglar I’m sure of it.”

“Okay, Blanch. You stay here, and I’ll go investigate.”

“My hero. be careful.”

“I can’t hear you, Blanch, I’m almost out the door.”

“BAD DOG.”

“Yikes, I’m back, Blanch.”

“OMG, Harold, what happened?”

“There was someone in the other room, all right.”

“Why did he yell ‘bad dog?”‘

“Cause I bit him on the butt like you said to do.”

“So?”

“So? It was the owner, that’s so.”

“He didn’t respect your watchdog efforts.”

“Yeah about as much as the chicken chasing efforts. Let’s try to get some sleep.”

“Harold?”

“What?”

“You’re the best.”

“Aw. Thank you, Blanch.”

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.

They Will Come by John W. Howell © 2019

“Hey, you there. You by the gate.”

“Yes? What is it?”

“What do you mean what is it? That’s my gate, and you are messing with it.”

“Not messing sir. Fixing.”

“It doesn’t need fixing.”

“Oh, it most certainly does, sir.”

“How so?”

“Well first of all the gate sections are not level.”

“Yeah so? It looked fine.”

“Not if we are expecting guests, sir.”

“Guests? I’m not expecting guests.”

“Yes, sir. Second of all these hinges are almost frozen with rust.”

“Who cares?”

“Your guests will care if they can’t come through these gates.”

“You keep talking about guests. I told you I don’t have guests here.”

“That is about to change sir.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your farm has been declared the country White House.”

“Huh. Never heard of such a thing.”

“Well, we have the White House and Camp David. We now need a residence that recognizes the country folk constituents.”

“You are in marketing, aren’t you?”

“How’d you know?”

“No one else could come up with a hairbrained scheme like that. What makes you think I’m going to go for this charade?”

“Ten million.”

“What?”

“Ten million cash for you to get out today.”

“Excuse me while I get my hat. By the way. You create it, and they will come. This is a really, really terrific idea.”

“Oh, I know. Been doing this for a long time. Where do you want your money deposited?”

“Wells Fargo in West Palm Beach. Got a little place down there.”

“Love your hair, sir.”

“Thanks. On sale at Costco.”