The Accident

4FCB9131-5320-4E73-927E-99E210F6839EHis daughter sat by his side, holding his hand as he was lying still in his bed. “Daddy,” she said, “are you having any dreams or is everything just black inside your head? Can you hear me? Can you sense my presence at all? Do you know how much I love you?”

Tears ran down her cheeks as she remembered what a vigorous man he used to be before the accident. But now he was just lying there in a coma, his shallow breathing barely visible, his body so docile.

She pulled down the sheets to expose his upper torso and used a damp, warm washcloth on his chest and arms to clean him. Then she took some talcum powder and sprinkled it on his body.

She looked at her father, bent down to kiss him on his forehead, and thought she caught some movement on his eyelids. Suddenly his lids started to flutter and he slowly opened his eyes. He looked up at his daughter with a questioning expression on his face. She rang the call button and the nurse came in and, seeing him conscious and breathing on his own, removed the respiratory apparatus from his mouth.

He looked up at his daughter and said in a weak and raspy voice, “Hi sweetheart. I was just dreaming about you.”


Written for the Wacky Weekend Challenge (black), Ragtag Daily Prompt (vigorous), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (coma), Word of the Day Challenge (docile), Your Daily World Prompt (sprinkle), and Scotts Daily Prompt (powder). Also for the Daily Writing Challenge, where the three things are daughter, dreams, and love.

A Man’s Man

rugged good looks Luxury Scottie in a Canoe RUGGED GOOD LOOKSShe couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He had to be well over six feet tall. And from what she could see of his features in the moonlit night, he possessed rugged good looks. Was she hallucinating? She must have been. He looked too good to be true. She’d always dreamed of someday meeting the proverbial strong, silent type. She was, quite simply, overcome by an immense attraction to the man she saw.

It took all of her courage to walk over to where he was standing. As she got closer, he seemed to be talking to himself, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. When she got next to him, she said, “Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I saw you in the moonlight and, well, I think I’m in love.”

He shrugged and continued to recite whatever it was he was saying, literally ignoring her. “Excuse me,” she said again. “Did you hear what I just said? You are a beautiful specimen of a man and I think I’m in love with you.”

He still ignored her and continued his recitation. Now she was angry. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you deaf? Are you blind? I said I love you. You are the image of a man’s man. And, by the way, I’m a goddam catch!”

He finally looked at her. “Yes, I am a man’s man. I’m gay,” he said. “So I imagine you will understand my constraint when it comes to responding to your declaration of love. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to continue to practice my gay rights manifesto for tomorrow’s Pride parade.”


Written for the following prompts: Your Daily Word Prompt (moonlit), Daily Addictions (immense), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (silent), Scotts Daily Prompt (constraint), and Word of the Day Challenge (manifesto).

DWC — Doctor Strange

97631CE7-797B-45EE-976E-40B52EFF7B6AI’d been to see my regular doctor. He recommended a dermatologist who, in turn, recommended a neurologist. But none of them was able to identify the rash on my shoulders that was incessantly itching. It was driving me crazy.

As fate would have it, I was in a bar one night, telling the bartender about my mystery rash. The bartender leaned in close and said to me, “I know this doctor. He’s amazing and I love him.” He then wrote the guy’s name and number on a napkin. “This is my gift to you, pal,” he said.

The next day I called the number and the doctor said he could see me, but not until midnight. I thought that was kind of odd, but I was desperate. I took down his address and arrranged to be there at the stroke of witching hour.

The address he gave me turned out to be an old, Victorian home at the edge of town. I walked up the steps and stood on the porch of the spooky looking house, but decided I had little to lose. So I rang the bell.

A tall, strange looking man with wild hair and a somewhat sardonic grin greeted me and invited me in. I followed him into a parlor and he instructed me to remove my shirt, which I did. “Hmm,” he said when he saw my rash. He poked at my skin.

“Ooh,” I said. He pinched my skin. “Eee,” I said. Then he took a sharp instrument and pricked me with it a few times. “Ooh, ah, ah,” I screamed.

“Walla walla, bing bang!” he shouted. “I know just what to do!”

He left the room for a minute and came back with a salve that he rubbed on my shoulders. The itching instantly stopped. My rash immediately disappeared. “This is a miracle,” I said. “What kind of doctor are you, anyway?” I asked.

He grinned. “You really don’t want to know.


Written for Teresa’s Daily Writing Challenge, where the challenge is to “take a trip to the Witch Doctor — or be inspired by the following three words: love, gift, fate.