Tumbling Along

He popped his head in the kitchen and told his wife he’d be right back, just had to head into town for something. She didn’t look up from the bottle in front of her.

Outside the pharmacy, he fished enough change out of his pocket for the soda machine as the local bus pulled in, chrome covered in that dry dust of the road. He watched people get off, struggling with heavy suitcases and the sudden blast of heat.

He crossed the street and stood in front of the bus’ open door, wondering if he had any reason to stay.

 

Inspired by 

Waking Up Moving

He handed the conductor his ticket, tucked the now-perforated stub into his breast pocket, pulled his hat down over his eyes and fell asleep before they had even crossed the river into the next county.

When he woke up, someone sat across from him. His eyes started up her legs, but she caught him staring before he could drink the rest of her in. He gave her a dishevelled and apologetic smile that she did not return. And then spent the rest of the trip staring out the window, hoping, with the right kind light, he could see her reflection.

Prompt courtesy of Velvet Verbosity‘s 100 Word Challenge.

An Answer For Everything

“Goddammit Hazel, how dumb are you? There ain’t no mystery here. They added these little ramps so the damn merchants could haul their lousy carts up and down the steps without breaking their backs,” her husband said, snarling behind the soggy end of a cigar. “Or the backs of their mules, if these poor bastards were lucky enough to have one.”

Hazel worried the loose skin of her neck. She worked on swallowing the chalky lump suddenly in her throat.

“Oh, of course,” she said, with a practised calm. “Well, we should keep moving if we’re going to see everything.”

Prompt courtesy of the Friday Fictioneers. Read more stories here.

Yeah! Road Trip!

Prompt courtesy of VelvetVerbosity’s 100 Word Challenge.

After an eight-hour drive, most of it spent in waiting for a man in an orange vest to wave him through, to allow him passage, down a gravel lane, Rabbit finally made it home.

He hated every single person with too tan arms and hard hats who stood around and smoked, laughing, enjoying life and while who knows how many people sat in uncomfortable rental cars with no radio reception and nothing to do but sit, sit, sit.

Rabbit dropped his bag beside the door, kicked off his shoes and crawled to the shower, eager to wash the road off.

#Friday Fictioneers – Stormy Seas

This week Susie Lindau is hosting the #Friday Fictioneers challenge. Click on her name to see the picture prompt for this week and then delve into the comments for some awesome reads.

 

Skunk looked up at the airport ceiling and pretended the architecture was actually sails on a pirate ship. His grizzled captain stomped up to him, wooden leg clacking against the deck and told him to “batten the hatches, mean storm coming in fast”. The imaginary waves rocked the boat, men hollered, wind whipped and ripped the sails. The ship tilted. Skunk grabbed the mast and hung on, heavy cannons rolled past and over the edge. Someone screamed.

“Wasn’t it nice of Steve to invite us to California?” his mother said, spinning the new diamond ring. “It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”