#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.

#writephoto — Secret Getaway

FA1BE547-6122-4811-BDA4-2218A5209E5C“Oh Jacob, look at this place. It’s so serene, so idyllic,” Eileen said.

“I’m glad you like it, Eileen,” Jacob said, beaming. “I camp out here a few times each summer. It’s like my secret getaway. But this is the first time I’ve ever brought anyone here with me.”

“I’m honored, Jacob, that you’d share your secret place with me,” Eileen said, grabbing Jacob’s hand and squeezing it tightly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen colors like these. The tree trunks and the ground by the water’s edge have a lavender tint to them. It’s so unusual.”

“What are you talking about, Eileen?” Jacob asked.

Eileen pointed to the tree right in front of them. “Look, Jacob,” she said, “it has a purplish, iridescent glow.”

“Eileen, sweetie,” Jacob said. “take off your rose-colored sunglasses.”

Eileen reached up and removed her sunglasses and said, “Oh, right.”5C522C42-8266-42BD-A13B-21324379AFA3


Written for Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt.

#writephoto — The Affliction

816039B2-B119-44DB-A716-265E5BA8D220When the Affliction first appeared a decade ago, there was fear that the infection had the potential to wreak havoc across the country and could cause infinite damage to the heathy citizens.

In an unprecedented move, authorities rounded up the Afflicted and quarantined them in an isolated area behind thick stone walls and secured them behind a large, heavy gate with a strong chain and lock.

Even though the isolation of the Afflicted in the large internment camp had stemmed the tide of the disease, a growing segment of the healthy population stood in diametric opposition to the continued internment of the Afflicted. The Opposition believed that the infection that had caused the Affliction in the first place had morphed into a benign parasite since there were no new cases in years. They staged protests, elected Opposition candidates who were sympathetic to their cause, and ultimately got legislation passed to release the Afflicted back into the general population.

At a major event to celebrate their victory, the Opposition leaders gathered in front of the large, heavy gate and cut the thick chain that secured the gate’s door. Thousands of Affliction survivors streamed out from behind the gate, grateful for their freedom.

Unfortunately, the Opposition leaders were wrong. The parasite that had infected the Afflicted had not turned benign. Instead, with no healthy beings to feed upon, it had gone dormant. But upon reintegration into the healthy population, the parasites found new hosts and began to spread rapidly among the healthy. A new Affliction ultimately devoured the uninfected, creating a zombie-like society populated entirely by the Afflicted.


This dystopian tale was written for Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo prompt. Also for these daily prompts: Your Daily Word Prompt (infinite), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (chain), Ragtag Daily Prompt (diametric), and Word of the Day Challenge (devour).

#writephoto — Begging The Question

EBC05E5D-AC73-482D-81AE-D6B8378C67EC“You know,” Andy said as they were standing on the edge of the outcropping looking out at a beautiful orange sunset, “I was smitten from moment I first laid eyes on you.”

“Aw, what a lovely thing to say,” Arlene responded. “I admit that I was taken with you, as well.”

“Hard to believe that was nearly six months ago, isn’t it?” Andy said. “My passion for you hasn’t subsided at all. And that first time we were intimate, oh my.”

“Yes,” Arlene said with a sigh. “that memory is a durable one, that’s for sure.”

Suddenly dropping to one knee, Andy pulled out a small, blue velvet box from his pocket. Opening it and exposing a diamond engagement ring, he said, “Arlene, you are the love of my life. On this Valentine’s Day, I’d be honored if you would agree to be my wife so that we can spend the rest of our lives together in holy matrimony.”

“Um, no,” Arlene said matter of factly.

“No? What do you mean no?” a shocked Andy asked. “Don’t you love me?”

“I do like you, Andy” Arlene said. “I like you a lot.”

“So what’s the problem, then,” Andy asked. “Why are you saying no to my marriage proposal?”

“You’re a very nice man, Andy,” Arlene said. “And as I said, I do like you. But do you remember when I said that the memory of the first time we had sex was a durable one?”

“Yeah, you just said that.”

“Well, Andy,” Arlene said, “what made that memory so durable was how bad you were. I was hoping, Andy, that with my help, your, um, bedside manner, so to speak, would have gotten better. I’ve invested almost six months trying to make you a better lover, but to no avail.”

“Sheesh, Arlene, if that’s how you feel, why didn’t you say anything before now?”

“Oh my dear Andy,” Arlene said, “I tried so many times and in so many ways, but you never picked up on it. Face it, Andy, you’re a selfish lover. You’re only interested in meeting your own needs and you don’t seem to care about meeting the needs of your partner.”

“And you chose this evening, Valentine’s Day, of all times, to tell me that?”

“You chose Valentine’s Day to beg the question, Andy.”


Written for Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Prompt. Also for these one-word prompts: Word of the Day Challenge (smitten), Your Daily Word Promt (passion), Ragtag Daily Prompt (intimate), and Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (durable).

#writephoto — Short Long Sword Story

DC546D6D-330E-4C09-9553-36A9CD8D8106The old knight held up the sword. With both hands wrapped around the sword’s blade, he was amazed as the metal seemed to take on a luminescent greenish glow, yet remained cool to the touch. “What supernatural sorcery did manufacture this mystical rapier? What power in heaven, in hell, or on Earth could construct a magnificent weapon such as this?”

“Sire,” the knight’s knave said, “I believe you may be holding Excalibur.”

“If that is the case, knave,” the old knight exclaimed, “this would be quite the revelation. Excalibur was given to Arthur by the Lady of the Lake shortly after he began his reign. But Excalibur was ultimately thrown into the enchanted lake. What strange circumstances should bring me to this stone wall to find this charmed sword? And, more important, what steps should I now take that I have it in my possession?”

The knave thought for a moment and then snapped this fingers. “I know, sire,” he said. “You should write a post about it for your blog.”

“My blog? To what end, knave?” the knight asked.

“Sire,” the knave said. “Everyone knows that the pen is mightier than the sword.”

“Knave,” the knight said, “are you seriously going all equivoque on me?”


Written for this week’s Thursday Photo Prompt from Sue Vincent. Photo credit: Sue Vincent. Also includes daily prompts from Ragtag Daily Prompt (manufacture), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (construct), Word of the Day Challenge (revelation, and Your Daily Word Challenge (equivoque).