Twittering Tales — Why Did He Lie?

B1CBBE1F-190A-404B-8CD7-61743695B328The policeman examined the door and knew the homeowner had lied. He told him that someone broke the glass from the outside to get into the house. If that were the case, the broken glass would have been inside the house, not on the ground outside. He’s hiding something. But what?

(279 characters)

Written for this week’s Twittering Tales prompt from Kat Myrman. Photo credit:

Friday Fictioneers — Broken Glass

0c69accd-7a1d-41a5-a75f-c263834bcc78I was just about to go to the glass shop to get an estimate to replace the glass in the door when my wife stopped me.

“No, I don’t want you to fix it,” she said. “Leave the tape on the glass.”

“Why would you want to leave it that way?” I asked. “It looks terrible.”

“I want you to leave it that way,” she said, “so you will be reminded every time you enter our house the damage you do when you come home drunk. This time it was the glass you broke. Last time it was my nose.”

(100 words)

Written for the Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Dale Rogerson.

#writephoto — When Another Door Opens

DB92B21A-4E32-4A93-BB6D-9C19649A11BCAllison looked out of the airplane window shortly after takeoff. The sun was setting over the midwestern city she was leaving, probably forever. She let out a heavy sigh. Her eyes welled up and she struggled to hold back the tears. It was hard for her to face the fact that she was leaving her old life behind.

When she discovered ten months earlier that her husband of eight years was having an affair with her best friend, Allison was devastated. She was more angry with herself for being blind to the betrayal by the man she thought loved her and by her closest friend. She knew that she could never forgive either of them. And she also knew she needed a complete break from everything. It was time to start over with a clean slate.

She moved back into her parents’ house until the divorce was settled. She received half of the proceeds from the sale of the house that she and her husband bought together shortly after they got married. While the net proceeds after paying off the mortgage and the real estate commissions weren’t that much, the amount was sufficient to cover the cost of the one-way plane ticket and a few months rent in a new city halfway across the country.

She didn’t know anyone there and didn’t have a job. But as her father told her, when one door closes, another door opens. Allison certainly hoped that would be the case. She pulled her iPad from her carry on bag, opened it up, connected to the airline’s in-flight WiFi, logged into WordPress, and started typing on the tablet’s virtual keypad.

“Hi,” she typed. “My name is Allison. Welcome to my brand new blog.” She paused, and for the first time in a long, long time, Allison smiled. Then she resumed typing. “I’m 31 years old and I’m starting my life all over again, which is why I’ve named my blog When Another Door Opens.”

Written for Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt.

#writephoto — The Boulder


As the small group of hikers approached the summit, one of them pointed to a huge boulder at the top of the hill that seemed to be out of place. “What is that?” he asked.

“Whoa!” Andy said. “I’ve hiked this trail dozens of times and I’ve never seen that before.” At that, Andy started running toward the strange bolder. The three other hikers followed suit.

Andy stood next next to the boulder, which towered over the six-foot tall man. When the rest of the group arrived, Andy tentatively reached out and touched the boulder. He pulled his hand back quickly, letting out a little shriek. “That thing is burning hot!” He then held up his hand for the others to see the red singe marks on the tips of his fingers.

“How did it get here? Where did it come from?” Susan asked.

“Maybe it was spewed out by a volcanic eruption,” Barry said.

“There are no volcanoes anywhere near this place,” Andy responded.

“Could it be from space? Maybe it broke off from a passing asteroid or something,” Eileen speculated.

“Damn,” Andy said, staring at his smartphone. “I have no service. I was going to see if anyone had reported a sighting of something big crashing onto the hill. Any of you have cell reception?”

“Not me,” Barry said.

“Me neither,” said Susan.

“Uh uh,” replied Eileen.

“Maybe we should head back down into the valley,” Barry suggested. “We passed a park ranger station about halfway up.” Barry picked up his backpack and started to head back in the direction from which they had come, but as he got around 20 feet from the boulder, he seemed to walk into some sort of invisible force field. Sparks started flying all around his body until he fell to the ground. He didn’t move.

“Jesus Christ!” Eileen shouted, running towards Barry’s limp body.

“Don’t touch him!” Andy shouted. He and Susan walked over to where Eileen was standing. They noticed the pungent aroma of charred flesh.

Eileen was crying hysterically. “He’s dead, isn’t he?” she asked.

Andy found a small branch on the ground, picked it up, and made a move to poke Barry’s body with it. But when it came in contact, there was a crackling sound and the tip of the branch burst into flames.

Andy dropped the branch, turned around, and stared at the boulder. “Do you hear that?” he asked. “It’s like an electronic humming sound that you might hear if you’re standing beneath high-tension wires.”

“It’s coming from the boulder,” Susan said.

The three walked slowly back towards the large stone and the sound got louder. As they approached the rock, they heard a rumbling noise. Two parallel, hairline cracks about ten feet high and four feet apart appeared on the surface of the stone. A green-tinged light peeked through the cracks. More rumbling and then the hairline cracks got wider and what appeared to be a large door slid upward into the boulder, bathing the three of them in the green glow.

As if mesmerized, all three stood perfectly still. It was Andy who finally broke the silence when, pointing toward the source of the light coming from the inside of the giant boulder, he said, “What in the hell is that?”

Written for Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt.

SoCS — Not My Doors

This week’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt from Linda G. Hill is supposed to be about a door. Linda asked us to “write about a door you walked through this week that wasn’t your own.”

I thought over what I had done this past week and where I’d been that had any doors that might be of interest. Let’s see. I went to see a movie, took a trip to a grocery store, and picked up some pizza from a local pizzeria. None of these places had anything notable about their doors.

This past week I walked into my house via the garage door as well as through my front door. I walked through my bedroom door and I used my bathroom door quite a bit. I went in and out of the sliding glass doors that lead to my backyard as well as the French doors that lead to my back deck. But none of those doors can be used for this prompt since they are all my own doors, and Linda gave strict instructions to not write about our own doors.

So what to do? Well, I decided to show two pictures I had recently taken at Golden Gate Park of some doors. These doors below are at one of the side entrances of the Conservatory of Flowers.
C525D1CE-5531-4BAD-9982-D28684A695A3This next picture shows the main entrance to the structure. The doors at this entrance are identical to the ones at the side entrance pictured above, but the overall entranceway is more impressive.BC277ADF-8907-43A3-B4DE-2828C4FE8A40Just so you know, I didn’t walk through either of these doors this past week, but I have walked through them before.