The Misanthrope

Villa, Chateau, Residence, Manor House, Country House

Pixabay

 

“You need to be gett’n off my property,” Roger Lowell shouted at the men on his porch.

“Mr. Lowell, we’re with the Police, and need a brief word with you.  May we come in?”

“Do it right there, or not at all,” Lowell replied.

“Yes Sir, we can do it that way,” Officer Brown assured him.

“What’s this ’bout?  I bet it’s that damn pith-helmeted scoundrel.  Coming up here pound’n on my door like a fury.”

“Yes, it’s about the postman.  He says you’re bit of a misanthrope.”

“I ain’t no misan-anything.  Don’t care for people much – is all.”

 

Padre

 

Weekend Writing Prompt #169 – Misanthrope in 99 words

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Esplanade Escapade

lighthouse

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The Esplanade Gang met in front of the ice cream kiosk at the appointed hour.

“Okay, everyone seems to be here,” A, their leader said.

“Not yet,” C observed. “F is missing.”

“No, I have her on a job,” A responded.  “Okay, you lot know that things have been tight lately with the Lock-down and all.”

“Yeah, hardly even enough to eat,” chubby G piped in.

“Exactly, tourism is down, and so are our pickings,” A observed.  “Well all that is about to change.  We are going to expand our patch and muscle in on the Cliffies’ turf.”

“Is that smart, Boss?” C challenged.

“I thought about that, and as I see it, there is one area that we can move in on that they won’t raise a fuss over.”

“Were’s that?” C asked skeptically.

“The lighthouse,” A announced.

“That place is a fortress,” several objected.

“Yes, but workman have been seen with sandwiches and even chips,” A said with an enticing voice.

“Count me in,” G said immediately.

And so the Lighthouse Escapade was hatched by the gulls of the Esplanade Gang.

 

Padre

 

FOWC with Fandango — Escapade

FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER

The Arrangement

Human, Trafficking, Jail, Imprisoned, Freedom, Captured

Pixabay

 

Monreal plopped down on the straw-filled mattress raising a cloud of dust that made his eyes water.  Fighting back a sneeze, he fished the stub of a pencil and some scraps of paper from inside an old boot which served as his pillow.  Monreal Dorb, one time lawyer and now convict, began to scribble blank verse onto a scrap.  The arrangement was simple, Monreal would write a poem and the guard would claim the verse as his own, and the accompanying profits.  In exchange Dorb received more paper.  Little did the guard know that these verses contained coded messages.

 

Padre

 

Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge: Monreal Dorb

 

 

The Recital

Person Playing Cello

Image: Pexels

It had been four years since Dave and Reena had visited Reena’s sister, Tracy.  With things being slow in the shop, they thought that the invitation to their niece Carrie’s recital would be the perfect opportunity to catch up.

They arranged to meet at the concert venue, and Carrie was already backstage when they arrived.

Carrie made a spectacular solo performance.

As she stepped from behind her cello to take a bow, Reena said, “She has really blossomed.”

Dave whose gaze was firmly locked on the sixteen year old said, “She certainly has,” gaining him a well deserved slap.

 

Padre

 

Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction: Blossom

 

Novice Sensations

Beads, Vera, Christianity, Catholicism, Orthodoxy

Pixabay

Patrick filed into the choir and waited for the signal to sit.  As the abbot made his way into the chapel, Brother Isaac played a low simple piece on the organ.  Vespers had begun.

Soon the gathered brothers were fully engaged in the chants, and Patrick, only in his first full day in the house, felt a deep vibration shivering, no shimmering through his entire being.

Was it the physical effect of Isaac’s base notes?  Was it the numinous of the collective praise? Or was it the true realisation that he was being touched by the finger of God?

 

Padre

 

Flash Fiction Challenge: Vibrations in 99 words

 

Based on actual event

Covid Romance

Student, Typing, Keyboard, Text, Woman

Pixabay

Forever seems a long time,” Hennie typed onto the messenger.

Lockdown, isn’t forever,” Kennan responded.  “All of this will end eventually.”

Sure seems like forever,” she replied.

He responded with a sad faced emoji.

Flirting online had become the extent of their fledgling relationship.

I can’t wait till school starts again, and I can see you,” she mused in print.

Calculus was the high point of my day too,” he responded.

Thank you,” she wrote and added a bashful face.

I signed up for Art and Debate, like you suggested,”

Oh, that’s so sweet.”

Now we will have three classes together,” he typed, adding a kiss face.

 

Padre

 

The Write-In Celebrate National Flash Fiction Day with us! On 6 June 2020

 

 

The Landlord

tan house

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“Charles, it’s perfect,” Karen said excitedly.

“It is, isn’t it!” he agreed, reaching out and placing his hand on her well swollen belly.  “It is the perfect place for our little family.”

“And it’s close to the city, so you won’t be away too long each day,” she added though there was no need to convince him further.

“We’ll take it,” Charles said.

“Great,” replied the estate agent.  “There is one stipulation in the lease that I need to make you aware of, however.”

“What’s that?” Karen asked.

“The garden needs tending at least once a week, the perennials managed, and new annuals planted each season.”

“Of course,” Charles responded, almost dismissively.

The baby was born, and life had the usual ups and downs, and in time the garden was no longer a priority.

One Saturday morning there was a sharp knock at the door.

Karen opened the door, but no one could be seen until she looked down to see a red-capped gnome on the porch.

What a shock it was when the little fellow crossed his arms and began tapping his foot impatiently.  “I’m Mr. Wigglesworth, the landlord.  I’m here regarding the garden.”

 

Padre

(195 words)

FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER: 2020: WEEK #23

 

 

 

The Act

sand

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Doug was always skeptical of any claims of the supernatural.  But he thought it might be a laugh to take in Mystic Marge’s show in his Vegas hotel’s showroom.

The performance was pretty interesting, but in his mind there was a lot of cold readings, and guess work involved.  It did start to entertain him though, if for nothing else the audience members’ reactions when she mentioned a familiar name, or place.

“You in 16B,” she said in a otherworldly voice , her fingertips to her temples.  “You will find all you need, if you dig at the first sign of life.  The meaning will become clear to you.”

Doug, the occupant of seat 16B, gave her a wave, and then put it out of his mind as a grandstanding gesture, as it sounded impressive, but nobody else in the room would ever be able to follow up on it.

Then two days later, he flipped his car on a desert road north of the city.  His vehicle totaled, and his phone broken; he wandered in a daze into the sands.  Then as his senses cleared, he saw a small seedling.  Digging at its base, he found a cellphone.

(198 words)

Padre

FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER: 2020: WEEK #21

Introspection

Forest Path, Fern, Forest, Jungle

Pixabay

It had started out pretty much like every other day had for the last week.  Up early, and then a hike through the forest with the guys.  But not today.  No today, as he rounded the same bend he had taken for six consecutive days, he was greeted by the whiz and buzz of passing rounds.  He dropped to the ground along with his companions, as the the First Sergeant called out “Whiz – Crack, not a problem.  Whiz thud’s the B***h.”  David laughed to himself with his only thought being, “And I volunteered for this.”

(97 words)

Padre

Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge:  “What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you are in absolute danger?

Perspective

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January MorgueFile 591731d2dd6c37f7842ba0de3f3613ee

 

“These canals are so peaceful,” Tyler observed.

“Yes, they are rather relaxing,” Miranda agreed.

“And this architecture is amazing,” he rejoined.

“I particularly like the stepped gables,” she said in agreement.

They continued along the canal in the water taxi taking in the wonders of the city.

After a stop at the Rijksmuseum, they continued their leisurely canal journey.

“Those Rembrandts were exquisite,” Tyler said.

“Yes, I particularly liked The Night Watch,” Miranda responded.

“This place is the perfect place to live.  It’s laid back, full of culture, and just so peaceful,” Tyler summed up.

“Not always,” Miranda said, her face growing a bit mournful.

“What do you mean?” Tyler inquired, taking a more subdued tone.

“There on the right.  That’s Anne Frank’s House,” she said.

 

Padre

 

FLASH FICTION FOR THE PURPOSEFUL PRACTITIONER: 2020: WEEK #20