Wednesday, September 20, 2017

To Flee or Not to Flee

Prince Rowan had a hard decision to make. Should he flee, allowing Ulric the Fierce to ravage the castle? Or should he stay and witness the slow starvation of his people in a siege?
         He knelt before his mother. “Tell me what I should do.”
        “Go now.”
        “I’m no coward.”
        “You’re not stupid, either. “
        Rowan kissed her hand. “How can I leave you?”
        “Ulric wouldn’t dare harm me.”
        “He’ll take you prisoner. “
        “I’m imprisoned now. Almost blind. I can hardly walk.” She gave him the ruby ring from her finger. “God keep you safe, till we meet again.”

Wednesday, September 13, 2017

Annie Got Her Gun

Frank Butler peered inside the tipi.  “Where’s Annie?”  
         Sitting Bull sat cross-legged, playing poker with Buffalo Bill. “Gone,” the chief said without looking up from his cards.
        Bill pulled a cigar from his mouth. “Said she had to practice the blindfold shot.”      
        Frank muttered a profanity. “She can’t do that without me.”
        Bill chuckled. “That won’t stop Annie.”
        Back on the field, Frank hailed a cowboy on horseback. “Have you seen my wife?” Frank asked.
        “She’s at the hospital tent.”
        Frank’s gut sickened. “What happened?”
        “Stray buckshot hit a longhorn. She’d got him wrong, and that was her loss.”

I didn’t like this prompt, so I changed one word. Check out what the others wrote:

Wednesday, August 30, 2017

What a Day!

“Where’d you go?” the policeman asked.
        “When? The day my mother was kidnapped?”
        He nodded.
        “I went to work, but I’d overslept. My wife tossed and turned all night. Mr. Winkleman fired me for being late, so I went to the Department of Economic Security. I had to find another job. Then my car blew a tire on the freeway, and I was stranded for hours. When I finally got home, I found my wife had gone into labor. I rushed her to the hospital but couldn’t get there in time. Our baby boy was born in the back seat.”

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

Let's Play

        Cleopatra lounged on her couch, wiggling her toes to the sound of the flute. Julius Caesar sat on a chair close by. He sipped wine from a silver goblet before continuing the story of his latest conquest.      Cleopatra yawned. She was tired of him regaling her with his tales. Blood and glory. It was all he talked about.
        She clapped, and the musician stopped playing. “Leave us,” she said.
        Caesar leaned close. “Are you not well, my queen?”
        “I’m bored.”
        He stroked her hand. “Shall we play a game?”
        “Do you know Hounds and Jackals?”
        He smiled. “Teach me.”


Wednesday, August 16, 2017


        Chancellor Beaumont buttoned his doublet as he bowed before the queen.  She’d sent for him in the middle of the night, once again. “I came as quickly as I could, Your Majesty.”
        “You prig. Go to hell.”
        “As you wish, Your Majesty.” Impervious to her abuse, he spun on his heel and started for the door.
        “Come back, idiot. I need your help.”
        His smirk turned into a confident smile. “I’m at your service, my queen.”
        She glared at him. “The king has taken a mistress. Did you know that?”
        Chancellor Beaumont nodded. “The rascal.”
        “What poisons do you have?”

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

Beauty Dreams

        Jenny had wanted to be a cosmetologist ever since she was eight years old. She’d experiment with her own hair, recreating the styles the movie stars wore. In high school, she changed her hair color from dull brown to deep auburn and then to bubblegum pink. Her color matched her mood.
        Now at beauty college, her dreams were coming true. Until today.
        “I want a beachy cut,” the woman said. “Heard of it? Or is that beyond you?”
        Jenny used a razor and then rubbed in gel. She’d made a poor job of hiding the damage.
        Beachy for the bitchy.

Wednesday, August 2, 2017

No Surprise

        Jeremy sat in the metal chair, feeling claustrophobic in the small interrogation room. The investigator sat across the table from him, browsing through a file folder of papers. 
        Finally, he looked up. “I’m not really surprised that you murdered him.”
        “I didn’t. He was my boss.”
        “Robert Compton had a criminal record. Everything from drunk in public to vehicular manslaughter.”
        “That’s why he never drove.” Jeremy wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans. “I took him everywhere.”
        “Where did you take him last Saturday night?”
        “The airport. He stopped for a drink first.”
        The policeman leaned back, chuckling. “Of poison?”