50 Word Thursday

228F92D8-5AA0-4DBC-9B4F-A57734879996“I don’t understand why you gave the scarecrow a happy face,” Dana’s father said. “It’s supposed to scare, not befriend crows.”

Dana walked up to her creation. “Why are you smiling?” she asked. After a moment, she turned to her father and said, “He said he loves his job, Daddy.”

(50 words)

Written for this week’s 50 Word Thursday prompt from Teresa (aka The Haunted Wordsmith). We’re supposed to take the picture from John Collins at Pixabay.com, and the line “Why are you smiling?” from Beyond the Field by River Dixon, and write a story between 50 and 250 words, in 50 word increments.

#writephoto — The Scarecrow, the Witch, and the Wizard

D3D2201B-77FD-47C4-AE2E-A2346009A9F9During the occasion of a full wolf moon, the scarecrow, the witch, and the wizard went out together for a late evening stroll, as the trio was wont to do on nights such as this. After several hours of walking and talking, the wizard mention that he had developed quite a thirst. The witch said that she remembered passing a tavern on the outskirts of town shortly after they began their stroll.

“Ah yes,” the scarecrow said. “I distinctly recall that place because there was a tall sign just outside of the tavern that contained within it a scarecrow’s hat. But despite the fact that the tavern is home to scarecrows, I’d be delighted if the two of you would join me there as my guests.

“I beg to differ with you, Scarecrow,” the witch said. That tavern is obviously home to a coven of witches, since the hat in the sign is clearly a witch’s hat. But despite that fact, it would be my honor to invite the two of you to join me there tonight.”

“Hold on just a second, my friends,” the wizard said. There is no question but that the hat inside the sign is that of a wizard. Be that as it may,” he continued, “I would be happy to serve as host to the two of you in that establishment.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, either of you,” the scarecrow said. “Anyone can plainly see that it’s a scarecrow’s hat.”

“Don’t be daft, Scarecrow,” the witch responded. “The hat a witch’s hat.”

“It is neither a scarecrow’s nor a witch’s hat,” the wizard interrupted. “It is, without a doubt, a wizard’s hat.

“There is only one way to find out for sure,” the scarecrow said. “We shall, the three of us, head over to the tavern, walk right in, and you’ll see soon enough that I was right. It’s a pub for scarecrows.”

“It is not,” said the witch and the wizard simultaneously. Each determined to prove the other two wrong, the companions locked arms and marched straight to the tavern. Upon reaching the tavern, they looked at the sign.

“See,” the scarecrow said. “A scarecrow’s hat.”

“See,” the witch said. “A witch’s hat.”

“See,” the wizard said. “A wizard’s hat.”

Once again, the three locked arms and, together, squeezed through the tavern doors and stepped inside.

All eyes of the patrons inside the tavern gazed upon the three who had just entered. There was dead silence as those already there and the three newcomers sized each other up. A tension filled the room and the atmosphere grew heavy.

There were no scarecrows, witches, or wizards among the patrons in the tavern. Instead, the customers were farmers and farmhands.

The awkward silence of the moment was finally broken when the bartender cheerfully called out from behind the bar. “Welcome to Ye Old Farmer’s Hat Tavern, folks,” he said. “Find any empty table and I’ll be right there to take your orders.”

Written for the Thursday Photo Prompt from Sue Vincent.

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.