Hello Everyone and happy weekend! To celebrate my favorite day of the week, each Friday I will highlight a short story, WIP, or other quip. I will write some of my own, but, also open it up for YOU, dear reader to join in.
If you would like to submit a Friday Fable please see the following guidelines:
1. All content MUST be YA, suitable for a general audience.
2. Fables must not exceed 500 words in length.
3. You must use an unpublished, original fable of your own, it can be a work in progress on its’ way for submission consideration.
4. Email to firstname.lastname@example.org with Fable Fridays in the subject line. Paste the entire fable within the email verbiage, not as an attachment.
If this feature grows in popularity, I will begin hosting a Friday Fables contest. Just not sure yet of the parameters, but, I can think of something.
Happy writing and let’s see what fables you can cook up!
Ahoy Fellow Fathomers! This week’s Tuesday Tales word prompt is “shoe”.
Before I introduce my contribution using “shoe”, I want to address the recent horrible weather events. Following the devastation from the recent tornadoes, my heart goes out to everyone affected and I loudly applaud all the rescue workers, volunteers, and everyone donating their time and money to put people’s lives back together.
My childhood friends lost their home, thankfully, they were not inside when this tornado hit their residence. These storms are no joke and must be taken seriously. Sadly, they lost one of their three dogs and practically everything they own. If you’ve donated time or money, thank you so very much on their behalf, and so many others in their same circumstance.
Actual scene from Mustang, Oklahoma
This week I return to another installment in a brand new sweet romantic read, Twister Fate.
Organized chaos surrounded the wide swath of destruction. Errant sprinkles of rain dropped from a clearing sky. Search and rescue teams deployed first to the areas hardest hit, looking for survivors. Sirens blaring and horns honking indicated rescue vehicles carving roads in between dazed onlookers. Each unit deployed to familiar territory, making it easier to look for accustomed faces in the midst of obliterated homes and missing street signs. Billy’s squad took charge of his neighborhood.
Pulling up as close as possible to where his house formerly sat, the remnants of pink insulation, wooden boards, bricks, furniture, siding and the rest of their material lives littered the ground. A random child’s shoe strangely sat on top of the remains of a microwave oven. Billy looked across a barren foundation slab in the direction of their underground shelter. In the backyard, a bent ventilation pipe indicated the exact location of the storm cellar. However, the mounded ground area was completely covered with building remnants of their home.
“I can’t even see the door, there’s too much shit on top of the cellar!” Billy yelled back toward his colleagues, running across wreckage.
His buddy, Don, yelled a warning. “Stop, man, Billy, stop! There’s a downed power line back there. I can’t see where it’s settled under all the mess.” Don pointed toward the dark line draped underneath what looked like a kitchen wall.
Billy stopped momentarily, looking helplessly backed toward his crew. “You’ve got to pull that debris off this storm cellar! Scarlett should be down there.”
“Wait, Billy, that power line is probably live! The electric company is on the way, they’ve got to cut the power off. It’s not safe. You know that line can send voltage out away from itself.”
“Look, she is pregnant, she might be hurt, I gotta get down there. She needs me, man.” He pounded his fist into his chest, emphasizing his words.
“Don’t be careless, we’ve done this many times, you know the drill. If Scarlett is underground, she is probably just fine. But, we can’t get closer until we know that live electricity is shut down.”
Billy stood, gripping the sides of his yellow hard hat, tears streaming down his face. Teetering on his balance, he stepped forward a couple of feet toward his refrigerator, now standing upright in the mud. Reaching his hand forward to steady himself, he did not hear Don yelling, “Don’t touch that!”
When his fingers met the metal refrigerator door, Billy’s body stiffened immediately, the effects of high voltage seizing his every muscle.
“Now that you’ve read my contribution to TT, please visit my creative friends over at our main blog, Tuesday Tales for their take on the word, “shoe