#SwiftFicFriday – Week 100 Prompt

#SwiftFicFriday – Week 100 Prompt

Welcome to the new and improved flash fiction writing prompt series – #SwiftFicFriday!

I’ve changed the rules, so if you didn’t see my tweet, check them out!

The gist:

  • You have THREE DAYS (AM Friday-PM Sunday on the east coast) to submit your entry.
  • Include social media links/handles/anything you want to promote (Twitter, FB, etc) & word count in the comment with your submission.
  • Submission must be between 150-300 words.
  • All stories are property of the authors.
  • Winner will be determined via reader votes on Mondays.

Ready, set, write!

Prompt: Can’t believe this is already prompt 100! Time flies. And it was my birthday this past Wednesday, so a memorable week in more ways than one. That being said, this week’s theme will be celebrations.

So, write a piece that includes a celebration of some kind.

Jason Sudeikis Dance GIFs | Tenor

Happy writing!

4 thoughts on “#SwiftFicFriday – Week 100 Prompt

  1. The Clash of the Celebrants

    Our city wasn’t having a formal celebration this year for Remembrance Day, Veterans Day to you yanks, so a few of us got together, thought, why not pull one together in the park. We got a permit, arranged a program, rented a mike and speakers, and did ourselves proud.

    We got the word out and on the 11th, set ‘er up early and were ready to go by 10:30.

    Then wouldn’t you know it, we got hijacked.

    A plague of anti-vaxxers, mask less, tasteless, intrusive, took over the stage.

    The cops were there, making sure the stupidity was non-violent.

    I tried to offer my wise words. “Look, I said. Let us have our remembrance, honor the dead, the Vets, then you can stir up whatever storm you have a mind to.”

    I suppose I could have been more genteel, but you know me, if it can be thought, it’s gotta be said.

    Well, the spokeslady for this sad-assed group wasn’t having any of it.

    “We are speaking for the dead, the soldiers who fought for our rights to protest,” she said, over and over like my mother’s old saying, the broken record one.

    In the end, they finally went away and the rest of us were left wondering what it was all about. Seems like the world is as splintered as ever and I have no more words for it.

    237 words give or take

    Liked by 2 people

  2. “Hey! Mirro just moved in to the other lot up on the mesa and we’re having a huge housewarming all day Sunday! Just pop in any time, there’ll be food all day, it’s going to be awesome!”

    The weird girl who lived in the old haunted mansion was handing out fliers at the mall like she actually thought anybody would go to her lame party. She and her dark-haired friend looked like they were dressed for a Ren Faire or something. Her friend didn’t even have shoes.

    “Hi! I’m Kerri White. Mirro here just moved in and we’re having a huge party!”

    The weird girl handed Cas a flier while her friend passed one to each of his friends. Cas smirked at his buddies so they knew he was too cool for this.

    “You should come,” Kerri looked up at Cas.

    Those girls were short. They were already across the food court handing more fliers to another group of teens. Kerri was weird enough, but her quiet friend was just spooky.

    Grif elbowed Cas, “Dude! Weird Girl’s totally got a crush on you!”

    “Shut up!” Cas crumpled his flier before dropping it and kicking it away. “She’ll probably murder anyone dumb enough to show up at the party.”

    “Kerri wouldn’t do that,” there was a soft voice in Cas’ ear and a sharp grip on his shoulder. “But I will. If you hurt her.”

    Spooky Girl was standing with one foot on Cas’ hip and a delicate hand on his shoulder. He reeled away and she seemed to float down to the floor. By the time Cas and crew had done their double-takes, Weird and Spooky were on the escalator to the ground floor with their fliers.

    287 Kerri’s Creatures words

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Joseph P. Garland, @JPGarlandAuthor, 297 words

    As I cradled the stranger’s head in my lap I prayed. I’m not a prayerful sort but I dug down and silently exhorted whatever power might be to make it just work out. “I don’t ask for much, Lord,” I said, my lips barely moving and my eyes focused on what was happening in front of me, “but please make this work out.”

    She, the stranger whose name we didn’t know, was leaning against my chest in the makeshift bed Carol and I quickly improvised in the back of our Subaru, the back seats down and a blanket spread on the hard surface. My partner was doing what she could, and the voice on the phone was instructing. “Breathe. Breathe.” As I rubbed the stranger’s shoulders.

    Where was it? Where was the siren? The lights? People who knew what they were doing, unlike us, who’d been waved to the side by the desperate woman on a quiet stretch of Route 18.

    Carol, the quicker of us, understood and went into action while I stood like my normal idiot. Now I was rubbing the stranger’s shoulders and telling her she was doing great. “You’re doing great,” though I had no idea if she was. Mixed in with my silent “please make this work out.”

    I heard it first. The approach of the siren followed by the blue and red lights prismed in the late evening mist. “Thank you, God, thank you, God,” I said as I looked at the roof of the Outback.

    A tall young man took my place and a squat woman took Carol’s and they said it was too late to move “them” and Carol and I stood by the side of the road exhausted and praying and then, when we heard a cry, celebrating.

    Liked by 2 people

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