Twittering Tales #109 – 6 November 2018 – picture prompt: tell a story in 280 characters or less
Every morning was the same ritual.
Kiss an empty frame, offer flowers and a prayer.
I asked her who she idolized.
“Me!” she said.
“See my reflection, there?
I don’t see my crippled body in that reflection, only my face.
Normally all I see is my disability and can’t see Me.”
Written for: (in 280 characters or less)
“Don’t go play too far George!” yells mom.
But George wasn’t there.
Panicked she runs to the pumpkin patch.
Pumpkins’ are carving their own Halloween structures.
George is there, light coming out his eyes, nose and mouth.
A big pumpkin grabs mom.
She joins George up on the fence.
Tell a story in 280 characters or less. Twittering Tales #106 – 16 October 2018
Arm in Transit
Humans are celebrating in the store.
We have it better in here, the girls are naked.
It’s not as much fun with one arm though.
Some girl didn’t have enough and kept my hand.
But it was attached to my arm. She still has it.
I got some weed now and feel no pain. Can you tell?
©Hélène Vaillant – 275 characters
Twittering Tales #104
Prompt: tell a story in 280 characters or less.
It is said that the son of God will rise in the West. He will be given the name, Trump. He will be recognized by his distinguished orange hair. At the end of his reign, he will be remembered for his Pinocchio nose. His famous nose could stretch all the way to Rocket Man’s Land.
Written for: Twittering Tales #100 – 4 September 2018
…he was bald by then. He died wearing his knitted cap.
His hat collection totaled 100. None had ever been worn.
At his viewing, he’ll wear a bowler hat with matching black suspenders.
A color scheme will be used to decorate the room with the remaining 99 hats.
Honoring his wishes you are asked to wear a hat to his funeral.
Suspenders are optional.
The first person to arrive wins the hat collection.
Please wait until service is finished before claiming the bowler hat.
Written for the prompt: The Doors – Twittering Tales #82 – 1 May 2018
with its myriad surprises
burn in my belly.
Facing my challenge
I creep like a mouse
choosing door #4.
Stepping over the threshold
the door closes behind me.
is no more.
Written for: Twittering Tales #81 (Prompt- picture above)
Iris had never traveled by train.
She purchased a trip through the Rockies.
The mist beyond her window seat presented a fairy tale panorama.
Enchanted, she let go into this dream.