“I can’t believe it,” Samantha said. “We’ve been planning this engagement party for weeks. And now, tonight of all nights, they’re calling for heavy rain.”
“Well,” Jason said, “we have those beams suspended from the wire frame that runs from the back of the house to the garage across the patio. Maybe I can run over to Lowe’s and pick up a tarp to drape over them to cover the patio.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” said Samantha. She picked up her phone and tapped at the keypad. “I’m texting everyone to bring all of their umbrellas to the party.”
Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers prompt. Photo credit: Dale Rogerson.
“You don’t like it?” Barney asked his daughter.
“I do like it, Dad,” Hillary said. “It’s just that….”
“Just that what?” Barney asked.
“Well,” Hillary said, “the workmanship is exceptional. There is so much intricate detail in the wood carving. It must have taken the craftsman months to create it.”
“Yes,” Barney said. “And the clock keeps time accurately. Plus, did you see the little girl carrying the bucket who comes out each hour when the little doors open?”
“It is amazing, Dad,” Hillary conceded. “But it seems a little incongruous, since everything else in your apartment is so contemporary.”
Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers prompt. Photo credit: J Hardy Carroll.
Arnold walked over to their hotel room window, pushed aside the sheer, lace curtain, and called out to his wife, “Honey, come see this view.”
Florence walked over to her husband. “It is beautiful, isn’t it. And the moon, oh my.”
Arnold suddenly started singing, using his best Dean Martin impression, “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore. When the world seems to shine like you’ve had too much wine, that’s amore.”
“Arnie,” Florence smiled and said, “we have the moon and the wine.”
“Then I’d say it’s time for some amore.” Arnold said.
Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers prompt. Photo credit: Gah Learner.
And here’s a bonus for those of you who are old enough to remember Dean Martin. Or for those of you who are too young to know who Dean Martin was.
Mirror mirror in the yard
Tell me why I must work so hard
I work all day and into the night
But I never see an end in sight
What must I do to make ends meet
What steps can I take the odds to beat
Tell me how to get my life on track
So I can move my family from this shack
I don’t foresee an end to my plight
There’s little left in me with which to fight
Mirror mirror tell me what I can do
To refresh my life and start anew
This sad, little excuse for a poem was written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Nathan Sowers.
The Light Up the Lake festival was the highlight of the summer for the townspeople. Nearly everyone in the community would construct a small, handheld, floating craft that held a candle. They’d light the candles and set their crafts on the water and let them float out onto the lake.
It started out small many years ago when the then-mayor came up with the idea. But on this, the 25th anniversary of the first Light Up the Lake event, it was a sight to behold, as the tiny, candlelit crafts nearly filled the entire surface of the lake.
Written for the Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Carla Bicomong.