SoCS — The Bounty Hunter

I’m a bounty hunter
I hunt criminals who skipped bail
I follow their trail wherever it leads me
I search high and low until I find them
And bring them back to stand trial
I get paid a nice fee, a tidy sum
I’m a bounty hunter
Just doing my job


Written for Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, where we are asked to write a post that uses either one or both of the words “trail” and “trial.”

Finish the Story 2020 #1 — The Mystery Coach

F7FB3C29-17B0-40B6-BE01-A1EC65C6BD18Teresa Grabs, formerly known as The Haunted Wordsmith, has resurrected her Finish the Story prompt on her new blog. The idea is that Teresa starts a story and then tags someone to pick it up where she left off. Then that person tags another to pick up where he or she left off. And so on and so on. I’m honored that Teresa has selected me as her first victim participant.

Here’s how Teresa got the story started.

Leslie squealed as Alan removed his hands from her eyes. “Oh, Alan! It’s beautiful!” The coach and dirt path seemed a marriage made in time. How had he done this? Surely he didn’t go all the way to Pennsylvania to buy the coach, but she wouldn’t put anything past him.

“I knew you’d love it.” Alan’s red cheeks matched his hair. Whether it was from the cold or love, it didn’t matter, an entire year’s work and effort culminated in the smile on Leslie’s face. Totally nailed it.

Leslie bounced and clapped, kissing him on his cheek. “Take me for a ride! It’s works, doesn’t it?”

“Of course it does, my love.”

They climbed into the coach. Alan chuckled, looking all around for its key, starter button — something, anything.

Suddenly the coach started and they laughed as it lurched. Leslie was sure Alan was doing this, and Alan was wondering how Leslie was operating the coach. It wasn’t until it picked up speed as it went down the trail and headed for a corner that panic set in.

“Alan? Alan! Stop this!”

Alan pushed and pulled at everything he could see within the coach, but nothing slowed their ride. “I’m not doing this.” He glanced toward the trees and wiped his face. “Should we jump for it?”

“Are you insane!” Leslie slugged his arm as tears formed in her eyes.

The coach turned the corner on its own. Leslie and Alan covered their eyes as …

And here’s my addition.

… the coach careened down the trail, picking up speed. Leslie was crying hysterically. “Alan, please stop this thing before we both die.”

“I don’t know how,” Alan responded. “I can’t find a brake.” The two clung to each other, sure that this misadventure would end in disaster, as the carriage continued to bound and bounce down the trail.

A few seconds later, the jostling of the delicate coach caused the left rear wheel to come off of its axle. The coach to tipped to one side and tossed the two passengers from the carriage like rag dolls.

Fortunately, Alan and Leslie landed on a grassy mound a few feet off the rocky trail. Both were shaken, but neither was hurt, save for a few small cuts and bruises. Once it sank in that they were both okay, they hugged each other. “That was a close call,” Alan whispered in Leslie’s ear.

Leslie pulled away from Alan and gave him a stern look. “Alan, where did you get that haunted coach?” she asked.

Alan shook his head. “Well, it’s kind of a long story. I saw an ad in the paper,” he said. “So I called and …”

And now I’m going to tag Kristian from Tales From the Mind of Kristian to take it from here.


The image at the top is from Peter H from Pixabay.

Puddles Along the Trail

Februrary has been a very wet month in San Francisco. And this is a good thing, since just three months ago, more than three-quarters of the state was in moderate to extreme drought and the remainder was abnormally dry.

At the same time, all this rain has left puddle after puddle on the trail that we walk our dog along each morning. And while my wife and I try to avoid, as much as possible, stepping into these puddles, our dog always seems to find a way to trek right through the middle of them. And she also finds a way to find and walk through the muddiest parts of the path.

Kind of reminds me of myself when I was a kid.


Written for my daily one-word prompt, “puddle.”

FOWC with Fandango — Trail

FOWCWelcome to November 28, 2018 and to Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (aka, FOWC). It’s designed to fill the void after WordPress bailed on its daily one-word prompt.

I will be posting each day’s word just after midnight Pacific Time (US).

Today’s word is “trail.”

Write a post using that word. It can be prose, poetry, fiction, non-fiction. It can be any length. It can be just a picture or a drawing if you want. No holds barred, so to speak.

Once you are done, tag your post with #FOWC and create a pingback to this post if you are on WordPress. Or you can simply include a link to your post in the comments.

And be sure to read the posts of other bloggers who respond to this prompt. You will marvel at their creativity.

100WW —Stepping It Up

880C47F7-258F-473D-A7E5-58DA0FFA9EB2.jpegLiam was tired. He rode for nearly six hours and cycled nearly 100 miles, but when he reached the trail’s end, he saw that the only way down was via a set of steep, wooden steps. He just didn’t know if he was energetic enough to pick up his bike and carry it down.

Should he carry his bike down to the road or turn around and go back along the trail to find a more hospitable point of egress?

“Fuck it,” he said, hopping on his bike and bouncing down the steps. Sadly, he didn’t quite make the 90 degree turn.

(100 words)


Written for Bikurgurl’s 100 Word Wednesday prompt and for today’s Word of the Day Challenge (energetic).