Keith’s own words. “On to this week’s challenge: 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 keithkreates@channing.ino before 6 pm 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 – pingbacks don’t often work.

Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries, with links to your own blog or web site, next Monday.

The Photo.

Left by John W. Howell © 2017

“Sir but it looks like you missed the boat.”

“Excuse me. I was deep in thought. What about the boat?”

“It appears you’ve missed the boat.”

“Yes, sadly. I was preoccupied and did miss it.”

“Preoccupied? What were you doing?”

“Well, the ducks were having a disagreement and needed some advice.”

“And you gave them the advice.”

“I tried, but they were so headstrong in their beliefs that I found I was wasting my time.”

“So what did you do?”

“What every red-blooded Russel Terrier would do.”

“Which was?”

“I chased them into the lake.”

“Ah, and we find them there still.”

“I have been waiting for them to come back and finish the discussion but they are still out there.”

“No offense but do you blame them?”

“They owe me a trip across the lake. Because of them, I missed my boat.”

“Do you hear yourself?”

“What?”

“What self-respecting duck is going to come on shore to face an irate Russel Terrier?”

“I would think those two.”

“How can you think that way?”

“Why not. They are my brother and sister.”

“From a different mother, I would say.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I must be going. I wish you the best.”

“Know anyone with a net?”

“Bye now.”

***

I am currently out of the country so responses to your comments may be delayed.

In Keith’s words to let you know what’s going on. “Using this photo as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; and either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at keithkreates@channing.fr 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 – pingbacks don’t often work.

Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries, with links to your own blog or web site, next Monday.”

The photo

Whoops by John W. Howell © 2107

“Okay steady as it goes.”

“Man, this new computer does all the work.”

“Don’t get over-confident. Keep your hands on the controls.”

“I know, I know. I’m just saying this thing is so easy to fly with the new computer.”

“I agree, but we need to be on guard for any malfunction.”

“Yes, so true. What’s our position?”

“We are two minutes from touchdown at cruise speed. We have just passed the Earth’s moon and are heading for a place called North America.”

“North America. I studied that area. Filled with some humans, right?”

“Yeah. Unfortunately. That’s is why we are landing while our site is on the dark side. We can avoid them.”

“So this site is in North America, but specifically we are on a trajectory to land at location Alpha.”

“That is correct.”

“Alpha is the name of a place?”

“No, it is just a designation.”

“But one with no obstructions.”

“Yes.”

“When was the last survey completed?”

“Just last month. There is nothing there but a few natives. It is one big island.”

“Do we know the Earth year at landing point Alpha.”

“Let me see. Yes, the year is 2017.”

“And what was the Earth year on the survey?”

“Here it is. 1617.”

“Wait. That is four hundred Earth years. Do you think there will be any changes.”

“Are you kidding? Those primitives? Not a chance.”

“Does the island have a name?”

“Well, the indigenous people call it Manhatten.”

“How do we know that?”

“The survey team sent back that information.”

“Oh okay. Looks like thirty seconds till touchdown. Initiating automatic landing sequence. All we have to do is sit back and—Wait what are all those lights?”

“Whoops.”

Keith tells us what to do. “Using this photo (Below) as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; and either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at keithkreates@channing.fr 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– pingbacks don’t often work.

Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries, with links to your own blog or web site, next Monday.”

The Photo.

The High Road by John W. Howell © 2017

“For heaven’s sake why doesn’t that idiot pass us?”

“I don’t know. He’s just laying back there blowing his horn.”

“he must know we can’t go any faster. Our animals are needing a rest.”

“Maybe we should pull over and let him pass.”

“Look where we are. If we pull over these camels will sleep for a week.”

“I know but that horn is driving me crazy. The noise is giving me a headache.”

“You sure it wasn’t the three goat skins of wine last night?”

“That horn does nothing to help I can tell you.”

“Well, maybe we can pull over. I’ll signal for a lane change.”

“Oh, my goodness. The infidel is pulling over too.”

“Get my scimitar, Kumar. I think we need to teach this one a lesson.”

“He has stopped behind us. Be careful. That awful horn.”

“I’ll be careful. Let me yell at that guy from here. Hey you numbskull. Don’t you hear that horn?”

“He’s not stopping the horn.”

“Oh dear. I must go there. Give me my scimitar.”

“Here you are. Dont cut yourself.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.”

“Sir. Sir I’m talking to you. Can’t you hear that horn?”

“Why yes I can. It that a sword you’re holding?”

“It’s a scimitar. What about the horn?”

“I started about ten miles ago.”

“I know. Why have you been following us?”

“We don’t know the way to the village and thought you could lead us there.”

“About the horn?”

“Oh, yes. There is that better?”

“OMG you don’t know how much better. Why have you been blowing that horn all this way.”

“The man at the gas station said you would help us and all we had to do was blow the horn continuously.”

“I think he was joking with you knowing I had this scimitar.”

“Not very funny.”

“I would say not.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In Keith’s words “Using this photo (Below) as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; and either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at keithkreates@channing.fr 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 – pingbacks don’t often work.

Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries, with links to your own blog or web site, next Monday.”

The Sale By John W. Howell ©2107

“Look. Here he comes.”

“That horse doesn’t look fit enough for the wagon.”

“I know right?”

“He said the price included a horse, but I’m going to tell him the deal’s off.”

“Wait a minute. Maybe that nag is good enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“You pretty much stole this deal. You’ll never get a wagon at this price anywhere else.”

“Maybe he’ll throw in some kind of warranty.”

“Now you’re talking. Just bid your time. This deal may turn out okay.”

“I just thought of something.”

“What?”

“How we going to get this rig home?”

“Need to hitch up Dobbin and take it slow is how.”

“Is this wagon street legal.”

“Who cares. It’s an antique.”

“I know, but I don’t need a ticket.”

“We’ll ask him when he finally gets here.”

“Good deal here he comes. Say, buddy.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can this be driven on the street?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Is it okay to drive on the street with this wagon.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, there are some funny laws about vehicles.”

“I don’t know of any that would prevent you from using this wagon.”

“How about the freeways?”

“The what?”

“Freeways. You know. Seventy miles an hour speed limit.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. Te best we do is Fifty miles in a day.”

“What are you talking about? You have a car don’t you?”

“Car? Now, what are you talking about? You’re not trying to back out of the deal are you?”

“Come on man. I’m not trying anything.”

“Good cause they just passed the city ordinance of 1843.”

“What the hell is that?”

“You can’t renege on a purchase unless you can prove fraud.”

” City ordinance of 1843. What year is this?”

“I think you are faking insanity to get out of the deal. Its 1843 and I’m going to go get the sheriff. You stay here.”

“Did we fall asleep or what? Am I dreaming?”

“I told you not to take that Twilight Zone sign post lightly.”