Tale Weaver — Barely a Ripple

D844DD7F-CDE2-46A0-908B-B3E025A11849He was born
He went to school
He graduated
He got a job
He got married
He had kids
He worked hard for 45 years
He retired
He died
It should come as no surprise
That when he was alive
His life barely made a ripple


Written for the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver prompt, where the topic to consider is the notion of eulogy.

Bought the Farm

310b6e79-a568-4b68-87e5-2285a810b3b4.jpeg“Momma, why are we here in church today?” Ruth asked. “It’s not Sunday.”

“I know, sweetie,” Donna said, pulling a tissue out of her purse. “Honey, can you please take that bubblegum out of your mouth and put it in this tissue? You shouldn’t chew gum in church.”

“But why are we here in the middle of the week?” Ruth asked again.

“Because your Uncle Benny bought the farm, sweetie,” Donna said.

“Uncle Benny bought a farm,” Ruth squealed. “Can we go?”

“Shh,” Donna said, “we’re in church. ‘Bought the farm’ is an expression, sweetie. It means Uncle Benny died.”

Disappointed, Ruth looked at her mother. “Why didn’t you just say that he died?”

“I shouldn’t have used that idiom, Ruth,” her mother said. “I think it was originally an English expression that means died, but it was irreverent of me to use it in church.”

“So how did Uncle Benny die?” Ruth asked.

“Well, Aunt Mabel said he lost his footing while he was off doing some mountain climbing,” Donna said. “But Uncle Benny was a lush and a liar and it wouldn’t surprise me if he fell off of a bar stool at the local pub.”

Ruth started to giggle uncontrollably until she saw the dirty look the pastor was giving her.

“Let us kneel and pay to God Almighty,” the pastor said in a booming voice, “and ask to be forgiven for our sins and trespasses as we remember with fondness our dearly departed friend, Ben Flannigan, who was the victim of a freak accident.”

Donna grabbed Ruth’s hand as each tried hard to not crack up laughing.


Written for today’s Three Things Challenge from Paula Light, where the three things are “liar,” “bubblegum,” and “mountain.” Also for these daily prompts: Ragtag Daily Prompt (farm), Your Daily Word Prompt (original), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (kneel), and Word of the Day Challenge (almighty).

First Line Friday — The Funeral

530B9F2C-2B28-46F1-A265-5AE69916356FThe funeral went by in a waltz of shiny cars, black suits, and choreographed tears. The procession reached the cemetery and pulled forward to the burial location. As people got out of their cars and made their way to the gravesite, the family members and closest friends took the seats while the rest of those in attendance formed a large oval around the plot.

Hank, a friend of a friend of the daughter of the deceased, was standing in the row of people farthest from the grave. Without warning, he let out a long, loud, juicy fart. Everyone in the crowd, including the pastor in the middle of his sermon, turned to see who it was who do rudely disrupted the service. Once those standing near Hank got a whiff of his flatulence, they moved away from him, leaving him standing by himself, all eyes glaring at him.

Using every communication skill he possessed, Hank said, “Please accept my apology for disrupting this funeral service, but the sudden death my friend’s father has so traumatized me that I was experiencing a mosaic of emotions and I momentarily lost control of my bodily functions. I hope all of you will find it feasible to forgive me my trespasses and return your attention to paying homage to the deceased and his family.”

A mass rolling of eyes, clicking tongues, and a collective sigh preceded the resumption of the funeral service as Hank slowly slunk away from the cemetery.


Written for the First Line Friday prompt from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, where the first line is, “The funeral went by in a waltz of shiny cars, black suits, and choreographed tears.” Also for these one-word prompts: Your Daily Word Prompt (farthest), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (disrupt), Word of the Day Challenge (whiff), Ragtag Daily Prompt (skull), Scotts Daily Prompt (mosaic), and Daily Addictions (feasible).

Friday Fictioneers — The Music Room

img_1699

Helen managed to hold herself together well during the funeral and the gathering at her home afterwards. But that was yesterday. Now it was time to head to her father’s apartment to begin the task of taking inventory of his possessions and to start throwing out those things that were of no value.

It wasn’t until she walked into the small room where he had kept all of his instruments and music that the full weight of her loss hit her.

“Dammit, Daddy,” she said aloud even though she was alone. “Why didn’t I inherit any of your musical talents?”

(100 words)


Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers prompt. (Yes, I know it’s Saturday and I’m a day late. So what?) Photo credit: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

FFfAW — The Wreath

img_1229“It’s a wreath, sweetie,” Harriet said to her daughter, who had asked what the large, decorative ring on the door was.

“What’s it for?” Susan asked.

“They’re mostly for decoration. Pretty, isn’t it?” Susan suddenly darted up to the door and started touching the wreath. “Sweetie, come back here,” Harriet called out.

“Mommy, there are little cotton fluff balls all over this wreath,” Susan shouted back.

Harriet ran up the walk and grabbed Susan’s hand. “You can look, but don’t touch, sweetie.” She started to pull her back toward the street when the large door opened.

A girl a few years older than Susan, eyes red and slightly puffy, stood still for a few seconds. “Did you know my daddy?” she asked. “He died last week.”

“I’m so sorry,” Harriet said. “We were just admiring your wreath.”

“Someone brought it to his funeral yesterday and I thought it was pretty, so we put it on our door,” the girl explained. “It reminds me of my daddy. He was soft and fluffy, too.”

(172 words)


Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers from Priceless Joy. Picture credit: Goroyboy.