Together through Music

Copyright - Bjorn Brudberg

As a young kid, Marty and his mama spent weekend nights in rural southern bars listening to dad play with his band.  As a teen he learned to play under countless hours of alcohol-induced instruction and degrading comments from his dad.

The family went through financial hardship.  There was no playing catch in the back yard.  No family nights huddled by the radio. Divorce left young Marty alone with his dad in a run down shack on the edge of town.  Through it all,  music bonded the two of them like chords and lyrics do a song.

Marty went on to become a successful musician. He played on stages around the world. It brought him financial stability.  However,  his greatest joy was playing alongside his dad in the smokey bars back home.

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This fiction was written for Friday Fictioneers.

Visit and read the rules and join in the fun!

Till we meet again.  Good day.

Mind of Shoo

Man or Monster

diver
Her father laughed uncontrollably as he sipped his beer then gently placed the can on the arm of the chair. Jeanie didn’t dare look up at him from her spot under the cushions. With her eyes closed she prayed while pondering the laugh. Was it a laugh of anger coming from him? Or simply a playful laugh of a loving father?  
Jekyl and Hyde was the daily game she played her father.

He grabbed the beer can and chugged what was left then tossed it aside. She now understood the inevitable. Slowly she peered from behind the cushion and glanced up at the monster above.  

Today was not her day.

This fiction was written for Friday Fictioneers.

Visit and read the rules and join in the fun!

Till we meet again.  Good day.

Mind of Shoo

Gone for Toooo Looong!

Life has grabbed me and almost sufficated me.  However, I believe I have come out of it and dying to write here again.  I took a full time job and it too my writing away from me.  I missed it way too much so I recently quit and starting working part time shipping items across the country on U Ship.  My hopes are that I can get back to writing again.  Writing truely brought me peace and some happiness.  I missed that dearly.  

I am blogging my adventures on the road here:

http://haulintiques.wordpress.com/

I hope to resume writing when I return from south Florida at the end of the month.  My mind is clear and words are racing towards my fingertip.

Wish me luck.

Till we meet again.  Good day

Mind of Shoo

 

Best Friends

Eventually Avery understood why he never invited to play at the home of his friend Johnny.  It was a simple reason that has been a part out the deep south since men first settled there.  For Avery, not allowing his best friend to know that he knew the reason was the color of his skin was tougher on him than the reality of not being allowed there in the first place.

This fiction was written for Trifextra: Week Seventy-one.

On to the prompt.  This weekend we’re revisiting an early Trifextra, our second ever.  The challenge is to write a complete story in only three sentences.

My Words Soar

If my words could soar

to the millions before me.

Words written for you.

From me.

Listen my dear city.

I have a voice.

On paper.

For you to read.

From my heart.

This fiction was written for Trifextra: Week Seventy.

For this weekend’s prompt we’re asking for exactly 33 words inspired by the above picture.

I kind of omitted couple.  My eyes just couldn’t escape the view before them.  And if only they could hear my words and just one was moved.  If I could only sit there…I am sure the words would just pour onto the paper.

Beauty in the Sky

Copyright - Janet Webb

The mother and young daughter reached the alley behind the restaurant.  The girl stretched her arms toward the sun for warmth and noticed the beautiful dress hanging from the balcony.

“Mama, you tink we ever be able to buy me a dress like dat?” she said pointing upward.

“Naw! Don’t be silly child.  You know we aint gonna be able to afford anything like dat.  Dats for rich folks.  Be happy for what you got. Now turn a’round and take dis from mama, ya hear me,” she said holding bread still in its plastic wrapper.

Molly turned away from the bright-colored dress with tears in her eyes. “Yes ma’am,” she said.

I went over the word limit.  Just couldn’t cut anymore and make this work.  Hopefully it does.

This fiction was written for Friday Fictioneers.

Visit and read the rules and join in the fun!

Till we meet again.  Good day.

Mind of Shoo

Shapeless Emotion

The poison is running through my soul.

An evil, albeit minor in comparison

pumped through my body

by a magnificent instrument placed by God.

It moves freely throughout me 

with the rhythm of its beat.

A symbolic black strand of liquid holding no form,

floating helpless within my veins.

I am unable to control it

and sadly unable to release it.

It is a shapeless strand of life form

often hibernating for longs stretches of time.

giving me some pleasurable relief.

Even if only fleeting.

Then reborn as it re-enters the heart

giving me the spectrum of emotions which ultimately define me.

Pain.

Sorrow.

Hatred.

Ultimately it was gain form and block the passage

of the liquid where it now survives.

Then my heart will cease

and the evil will die.

Forever.

This was written for The Mag #170