#WDYS — The Best of Both Worlds

My wife wanted a quaint cottage on the water.

I wanted a rustic cabin in the mountains.

Then we found this place.

It was the best of both worlds.

It fulfilled our hopes and dreams.

And made us both very happy.

Written for Sadje’s What Do You See? prompt. Photo credit: Pixabay.

Sunday Writing Prompt — The Ram’s Quest

Ram in the MountainsMindlovemisery’s Menagerie has presented us with a Sunday Writing Prompt that is supposed to be a story about a “spiritual quest.” We are instructed to “pick a spirit animal” and then to pick a destination, an activity, an obstacle that must be overcome, and a lesson learned on the journey.

This won’t be easy for me because I’m not a spiritual guy. Thus I don’t really have a spiritual quest. And when it comes to a spiritual animal, well, I don’t really have one of those, either. But I do have a zodiac animal, which is a ram, since I’m an Aries. That said, I am not one who believes in all that astrological crap, no offense to those of you whose lives are guided by the constellations or whatever.

See, not a spiritual bone in this practical pragmatist’s body. But that has never stopped me from pretending to be something I’m not. So here goes.

A ram named Dango was looking for a new place to live. He had been asked to leave his old residence because he was so hardheaded and stubborn and would often butt heads with his neighbors, as rams are wont to do. Dango decided that he wanted his new place to be near the ocean because he was sick and tired of living in the mountains, where rams are wont to live.

Dango interviewed a bunch of real estate brokers before he finally settled on a unicorn by the name of Mr. Horn. Because unicorns are colorful and have vision and imagination, whereas rams tend to be rather dull and are pragmatic and practical, Dango thought that Mr. Horn would be a perfect complement in his quest to find a place by the ocean.

Dango and Mr. Horn searched high and low and far and wide for a suitable place near the ocean, but the hardheaded ram was resolute in what he wanted. Mr. Horn came up with options that would have pleased any other creature, but Dango was very particular, as rams are wont to be.

Poor Mr. Horn was about to give up on finding a place by the ocean that Dango would find acceptable. He’d already invested countless hours showing the stubborn ram places where he could comfortably settle down. Just as Mr. Horn was about to tender his resignation as Dango’s real estate broker, Dango showed up at Mr. Horn’s office and said to him, “Mr. Horn, I’ve had an epiphany. I’m sorry that I’ve been acting like a rolling stone. I think it’s time for this ram to gather some moss. I’ve learned through this process that you can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometime, you just might find, you get what you need.”

Friday Fictioneers — Gramma’s Stove


Gramma would always tell me to stay away from the stove that was set against the wall in the one room cabin that she and Grampa had up in the mountains. It was one of those old fashioned potbelly stoves that was used to heat the entire cabin. Grampa had laid a flat, thin stone atop the stove and Gramma would use its surface for cooking meals, keeping the water hot, and warming up her clothes iron.

Gramma warned me not to put my hand on top of the stove. It took only one time for me to learn why.

(100 words)

Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Valarie J. Barrett.

Sunday Photo Fiction — The Hills Are Alive

img_2203“Dad,” Bonnie called out to her father, “Come see what I made.”

Dave stepped out and saw his fourteen-year-old daughter standing in front of her creation. He looked at what she had made and then looked at her. “A scarecrow?” he said. “It’s very nice, honey, but I’m not sure we need a scarecrow in the flower garden.”

“Dad, she’s not a scarecrow,” Bonnie said. “Don’t you recognize her?”

Dave scrutinized the scarecrow. “Oh sure,” he said. “I bet she’s the wife of the scarecrow from ‘The Wizard of Oz,’ right?”

“No, Dad.” Bonnie said, hands on her hips, giving him her famous stink eye. “What’s my very favorite movie?”

“Um,” he said. “Is it ‘The Sound of Music?’” he asked, knowing that it was.

“Ding, ding, ding,” Bonnie said, smiling broadly.

“I don’t remember there being any scarecrows in that movie,” Dave said.

“Dad, I already told you that she’s not a scarecrow,” Bonnie said, feigning annoyance. “Pretend that this isn’t a garden, but a hilltop surrounded by tall mountains. Now do you know who she is?”

“Maria?” he asked.

“Yes!” She said. She pulled a folded paper from her pocket and handed it to him. “See?”64C7580A-7B69-4C47-9E86-8961786A85FD

(199 words)

Written for this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt from Susan Spaulding. Photo credit: Anurag Bakhshi.

#writephoto — The Last Time

6E8B4ECD-E5F4-4997-A58B-4DB0ED77D43C“You never get it right, do you?” Amy scolded her husband. “This is the last time I’m going to leave planning the family vacation to you.”

“It’s not that bad,” Craig said.

“You’re not serious, right?” Amy said. “We’ve been stuck in this cabin for almost a week and have yet to see the sun. It has rained every goddam day. The kids are going stir crazy. And, frankly, so am I.”

“But it’s not raining now,” Craig said defensively. “Look out the window. The clouds are breaking up. I think the sun is coming out.”

Just as he said that, large raindrops started pelleting the cabin’s windows. “Right,” Amy said. “A little research, Craig, and you’d have known that you booked this cabin in the middle of the rainy season. No wonder you got such a good deal.”

“Look at the view, Amy,” Craig pleaded. “The mountains, the lake. It’s so serene. You have to admit that.”

Amy glanced out the window. “Is it? I can’t tell with all of the raindrops streaming down the window.”

“But if you look carefully you can see the rays of the sun coming down from between the clouds,” Craig pointed out.

Amy turned around to see that their two kids were up. She smiled at them and said, “How about I fix you some breakfast and then we can all play Yahtzee?”

“Again?” both kids groaned.

Written for Thursday Photo Prompt from Sue Vincent.