Tag: #FFFC

Ivy Tower

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Flash Fiction: A Wayne Donald and Kinley Chris Adventure

The image above is from Jon Tyson. The image depicts the window of a brick building that is overgrown with ivy; some of the leaves are still green, but many are a beautiful red color. We see some, but not all, of the window frame.

“Wayne Donald! Get out here! We needa clear somma this ivy!”

Kinley Chris shouts up toward the huge window of their grandmother’s home. Wayne Donald is in their bedroom watching Gremlins, avoiding all Saturday chores. She huffs, kicks her feet up from the bed, jumps down from the top bunk, and lands with a vicious thud over their grandmother’s art room.

Kinley is standing outside in front of their grandmother’s home, under the first window. She is dressed in a medium Uline Deluxe Coverall, ski mask, gardening gloves, and goggles for protection. She is holding a mini rake in one hand and a standard rake in the other.

“Kinley Chris, why we gotta do this? Why we can’t wait ’til Uncle Henry gets here to clear this ivy? I hate it. It makes my stomach turn.” The younger sister whines and tries to plead her case, but Kinely Chris stands firm on what needs to get done as a part of their Saturday chores.

“Every Saturday you moan’n groan, like I wanna hear it. I don’t. Uncle Henry won’t be over here ’til later on this evening for dinner, and by that time, he ain’t gon’ wanna do nothin’ but plop down and fill his belly with steak, potatoes, and gravy. So… please go get your gear on and get back out here so we can do what we need to do.”

Wayne Donald stirs up a fuss with her feet as she rattles the leaves awake beneath them. She races upstairs to gather her gear, puts it all on in haste, and rushes back outside to help her big sister.

“Get yo rakes and make sure your goggles are on good. We don’t need you rashin’ up ’round the eyes like you did two weeks ago. I got a swift slap to my cheek from grandma for not checkin’ on ya before we started, and I ain’t aimin’ for that to happen today.” Wayne Donald straightens up her goggles and pulls her ski mask down to meet the edges.

“And if you do a good job today, I’ve got some gummy bears with yo name on’em.”

Wayne Donald looks over at Kinley, shakes her head happily, and gets to work.

AI-Generated Image: Two sisters; one teenager, one seven-year-old, dressed in gardening gear and goggles, frowning.

A rare shout from up above meets the girls’ ears. It’s their grandmother giving precise orders for the proper trimming of the ivy.

“Girls, I likes them red leaves… how they’re comin’ in beautifully. Keep as many of them as you can, leave some green leaves to mingle with it, and trim from the top to the bottom. Y’all got your hedge clippers out there?”

The girls look up, both surprised to hear from their grandmother at this time of day. Typically, she’s asleep until noon, it’s only 09:30 AM. Kinley is the first to respond, then Wayne Donald.

“Sure thing, Grandma. We’ll get it right.”

“Okay, Grandma, will do!”

The sun rose higher to greet the two of them just as they were making headway under the third window. With seven more windows to go, the girls know they will not finish the task today, but at least most of the trimming and clearing of the ivy will be done for next Saturday.

“Whew! Five windows down, five more to go. It’s time for lunch, Wayne Donald. We can end here and finish up next Saturday. I think I smell Grandma’s fried spam and eggs, and I sure do want a belly full of that on some buttered toast.”

“Lawd, I do too, Kinley Chris! I been waitin’ for you to say we can stop since we started. Let’s get inside!”

What will the two of them get into next?

Part I, Part II, and Part III.

This piece is my offering for this week’s Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge, #349. I love these two sisters. They remind me of my friend, E’s two youngest girls. When the series is complete, I will share it with her. I am long overdue for a trip up to the mountains of Western North Carolina to visit all of them, and I am looking forward to it at the beginning of next year.

Saving Bruce Dennis

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Introducing Charlie Rhett Baylor

The image above is from Getty Images. It is a vintage photo of a young boy sitting at a table and looking mischievously at a whole turkey on a platter garnished with lettuce and tomatoes. The boy wears a suit jacket, dress shirt and tie, and his hands are folded and placed on the table. An empty dinner plate, a smaller plate with a dinner roll on it, and a full glass of milk are in front of him.

Bruce Dennis is getting so far up that the girls wail out to her, pleading for her to get back down to safety. The poor cat sits unbothered, still attached to ten red heart-shaped balloons, drifting by a will not of her own. They stomp their feet and cry out with impatience. Kinley Chris shouts downstairs to their grandmother—screaming for her help—begging her with plump tears in her eyes for her to do something.

“Grandma! Bruce Dennis is flyin’ up more and more. We need to get her down! Grandma, please!”

But their grandmother was in the very place she was before all the commotion began. The girls have no idea she is the one who hitched Bruce Dennis to the balloons—swatting the cat away for breaking her favorite vase. She had said so many times before her art room was off limits. She is going to show them better than she can tell them. But before she would wiggle her overgrown self from the vintage loveseat perfectly placed next to the only window in the art room, their young ginger-haired neighbor, Charlie Rhett Baylor, raps at their door.

“Kinley and Wayne!!! I see Brucie up in the sky. What is goin’ on, y’all?!” In between his yelling, there were frantic knocks at the door. Charlie is also thinking of a way to get the fat cat down while he continues to knock and yell. His father, Hank Baylor, is the Deputy Sheriff in town, so Charlie has a few tricks up his sleeve that will surely secure the fat cat soundly.

Wayne Donald shoots down the stairs quicker than an incoming evening tide and swings the door open. She notices Charlie’s Sunday Best attire, then waves for him to enter their home. Kinley Chris strips the bedding off the guest room’s twin mattress and tosses it out the window. She is thinking they can shoot the balloons one by one with her slingshot or BB gun, and get Bruce Dennis to land on the mattress, but they have to be quick. When Charlie meets her in the guest room, she rattles off her plan to him, and he throws his suit jacket on the box spring, kicks off his loafers, and races back downstairs so he can place the mattress in the spot where Bruce Dennis would land.

Kinley Chris loads the BB gun with .177 caliber pellets, flings the gun over her shoulder, and sets up shop right in front of the old window. Like a focused sniper, the eldest sibling tilts her head to find the subject, braces her legs for shifting, and kneels down in an experienced shooter’s position. She yells down to Charlie, who is in a frenzied state, trying to track Bruce Dennis’ landing position.

“Charlie Rhett Baylor, you gotta good eye on Brucie? I ain’t aimin’ to kill my cat when she falls, so you besta be movin’ that mattress in the right direction!”

“Yeah, I’m watchin’! I’m watichin’ ya, Kinley. You just let those bbs rip, and my eyes will be on the fat cat prize.”

Kinley Chris launches the first three pellets with vigor and swift calculation. Two more pellets follow, and Charlie is monitoring every hit and is maneuvering the mattress as if his life depends on it. Kinley Chris launches two more pellets, and Wayne Donald wails in exclamation—deathly afraid of a negative outcome.

Just before Kinley lets the last three pellets fly, Bruce Dennis is falling down at a pace none of them expects, and Charlie has his eyes on her—keenly assessing the situation as every second passes.

“I’m lettin’ these last three rip, Charlie! Make sure that mattress is placed right. Looks like Bruce Dennis is comin’ right at ya!” Each pellet hits its respective target, and the fat cat meows loud enough for the whole block to hear. She lands with a pounding thud on the mattress on her eight-lives-left paws and quickly runs toward the shed behind the house.

“Wayne Donald!” Kinley Chris turns to her sister to give the final instructions. “You go on to that shed and make sure she ain’t got no bruises or nothin’ like that, and take her a fresh bowl of milk and open a can of that good tuna for her, too.”

Charlie waits until he sees Wayne Donald, then hurries up the stairs to grab his suit jacket and loafers. His day of helping the neighbors is over, and now he has a story to tell his highly decorated Deputy Sheriff of a father.

Bruce Dennis won’t even look in the art room’s direction. She will never trust the girls’ grandmother again.

This piece is my offering for this week’s Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge, #348. We had to save Bruce Dennis; we simply had to.

Part I and Part II

The Fat Cat and the Red Balloons

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A Wayne Donald & Kinley Chris Adventure

Photo by  Reba Spike on Unsplash. The image depicts a fluffy tabby cat floating through the air. It appears the cat is suspended in midair by ten red heart-shaped foil helium balloons, the strings of which can be seen near his midsection. The sky in the background is a deep blue, with clouds scattered throughout.

“Kinley Chris, you see that fat cat anywhere down there? Grandma said it rushed outta the art room after knockin’ over her famous vase, and now I can’t find it nowheres!”

Wayne Donald shouts from the top of their ancient staircase down to her sister near the basement. She is standing on her tiptoes with her right hand on her hip, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet.

“Wayne Donald, girl, you better stop that yellin’ at the top of them stairs like that before Grandma come huntin’ for ya. I don’t see that fat cat down here, and it shouldn’t come this far anyway. Check the bedrooms and then the two guest bathrooms. It’ll probably pop up again when it’s supper time.

Wayne Donald searches each guest bathroom, bedroom, and then circles back around to the staircase, wandering down the hall toward their grandmother’s bedroom. With each step, she grows curiously curiouser as to where their tabby could be.

“Bruce Dennis! You fat cat, where are ya? BRUCE D-E-N-N-I-S!!! Where are ya, Bruce Dennis?”

Just like the girls, their fluffy and pleasantly plump tabby cat is double-named with what most people would consider a name fit for a man; however, the cat is female. On a somber and stormy night, the cat, who was then a kitten, found its way to their front door. The girls heard something scratching at it lightly. They begged their grandmother to walk to the door with them to see who it could be. When they peeled back the squeaky door, to their surprise, the kitten sat there with the most pitiful look on its face. The girls pleaded to keep it, and their grandmother approved.

They screamed names back and forth until finally, Kinley Chris chose the name Bruce, and Wayne Donald selected Dennis. Their grandmother nodded and tutted them with her hand to get the girls out of her hair. Bruce Dennis had become a part of their family.

“Bruce Dennis! Brucie! Where is that cat?”

Wayne Donald walked deeper into the bowels of her grandmother’s bedroom and slowly approached the old window. Upon looking outside, she gasped. Hanging at least 450 feet in the air was Bruce Dennis, tied to a bundle of red balloons. Wayne Donald almost fainted.

“Kinley Chris! Get up here right now! I say, get on up here!” She took a moment to breathe and then scolded Bruce Dennis for being outside. “Bruce Dennis! Now, how in God’s holy name did you get out there? Where’d you get them balloons?! KINLEY CHRIS!!! I SAY, GET UP HERE NOW!”

Kinely Chris raced up the stairs, taking them by two, and ran to their grandmother’s bedroom. If she had been any faster, smoke would be at her heels.

“Wayne Donald, I declare, you’d better have somethin’ serious for me callin’ my name like you The Law.” Wayne Donald looked at her big sister, her big come-hither eyes stretching wide as the Nile River. She huffed and pointed to the window.

“Kinley Chris, you just go on and look out that there window. You just look. Bruce Dennis is floatin’ up toward heaven.”

“Bruce Dennis is doing WHAT?!”

The girls stood at the window, both of them flabbergasted by the scene before them, and shocked at just how peaceful their fat cat appeared. They looked at each other and within seconds knew exactly what to do…

“GRANDMA, BRUCE DENNIS IS ALL RED BALLOONED OUT AND IS ON HER WAY UP TO HEAVEN!”

Their grandmother sat peacefully in her art room, playing her jazz records and tapping her feet. She tutted the girls silently to herself and shooed their summoning with her hand.

She would not be moved.

This piece is my offering for this week’s Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge, #347. As soon as I saw the image, I knew I wanted the girls to make another appearance. You can read their debut here.

Wayne Donald

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Flash Fiction: Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge

The image depicts the corner of a room with bright green walls and ornate stacked moulding in white and gold. We see part of a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. A sofa with green and gold striped fabric and gold trim sits against one wall. Various artworks of different sizes adorn the walls, some framed in gold and some black. Photo by Elif Gulgac on Unsplash.

“Where the hell is Wayne Donald?!”

Kinley Chris yells from across the salty shore. Her younger sister shot like lightning from their grandmother’s front porch to the mouth of the beach when she heard the fireworks.

To try and coax her home, Kinley runs at full speed with a bag of gummy bears dangling from her back pocket–her sister’s favorite snack.

“Wayne Donald! Wayne Donald! I’ve got your favorite snack! Come on out here. I ain’t got all day!”

The girls are the two most oddly named children at their school–in their neighborhood. Wayne Donald, the youngest, at age 7, is a blonde-haired, green-eyed turbo train of unbridled anxiety. Kinley Chris, 13, is cinnamon sunshine with a pinch of “Don’t waste my time”, and their personalities speak before they do.

Plainly put, they don’t need an introduction.

The girls’ grandmother sits in her art room, rocking back and forth to the sound of the island’s fireworks.

No one is allowed in this room, not even her husband (not the girls’ biological grandfather). The room is both peaceful and creepy. It’s a vibrant green with a cream and gold ceiling, and has Art Deco-like furniture. It smells like a scene from a Foghorn Leghorn cartoon married to last night’s dinner. The girls gladly stay out of it.

“Wayne Donald! Wayne!!! Girl, where are you?! It’s getting dark, and I’m cold as the teats on a mama polar bear!”

On the pier, directly behind the viewers, Wayne Donald appears. She is wearing a snaggletoothed smile and sea-soaked clothes.

“I’m right here, Kinley Chris! If I was a snake, woulda bit ya!”

The little girl races to her older sister, slaps five with her, and snatches the gummy bears from her back pocket.

“If that was all I had to do to get these here gummy bears outta ya, Kinley, I woulda did it long ago.”

She leans into the tight embrace of her big sister, and they plop their tired bodies on the muddied sand.

“If all you wanted was some candy, Wayne Donald, all you had to do was ask.”

The girls’ grandmother lifts the window in the art room and calls them home. Her wretched voice echoes along the beach. They race each other back to the long-winding porch and float through the front door.

Tomorrow’s adventures await.

This piece is my offering for this week’s Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge. The name, “Wayne Donald,” came to me first, then the image of the little girls, and the story wrote itself from there. I love these challenges, and I am grateful for them as kickstarters for buried creativity.

Damien’s Last Call

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Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge

The image depicts a close-up of a payphone on a wall. There are stickers on the phone that read “4 MINUTES FOR $1.00,” “LOCAL CALLS 50¢,” and others. Photo by Nellie Adamyan on Unsplash

He stood at the pay phone, short on change and on love, and waited for the last seconds to tick by.

“Please insert $0.50 to continue.” The automated voice chimed in before Lacy could complete her sentence.

The two of them were like peas in a pod. Damien, with his wild antics, and Lacy, with her calm demeanor. Opposites attract, and they were inseparable.

Who would have ever thought Lacy would be on the other end of what would have been a collect call, but Damien had $0.50 on him to spare. His last bit of change for a woman who changed him.

“I should have stayed outta that store, Dame. Ain’t no changing it now. I did what I did.”

“It’s supposed to be me! I’m supposed to be in there! Not you! Not you, Lace!”

The automated voice chimed in once again to remind Damien of the pressing need for more money for the call. Please insert $0.50 to continue. Please insert $0.50 to continue. Please insert $0.50 to continue.

“I AIN’T GOT NO DAMN $0.50, OKAY!”

Damien banged the receiver’s cradle with the handset three times to match the automated voice’s demand. The last words he heard from Lacy before the call was cut short were, “I’ve done time for both of us.”

He dropped to his knees, held his head in his hands, and sobbed for the love of his life.

The execution was scheduled for 10:00 AM sharp. He had forty-five minutes to save her. The spare change he had to make the call to her was his last.

David T. Pulman, Jr., Esq., sat in his oversized office chair, his hands folded perfectly in his lap, his hair slicked back in a greasy ponytail, and waited for the phone to ring.

It didn’t.

Time of death: 10:05 AM.

This flash fiction piece is in response to Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge. I couldn’t let this one pass when I saw the pay phone as the image from which to create. If you want to try your hand at it, go for it!

A River Bath

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Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge

From Ryan Grewell on Unsplash. The image depicts a bear in a body of water with rocks and trees in the background. Most of the bear’s body is submerged. We see the bear’s head above the water, along with his right leg, which he appears to hold with his right arm. What is this bear doing?😅

I am your most esteemed Tour Guide and Developer of this beautiful place, Logan Tismouth. If you’ll direct your attention to Caper the Bear, who appears to be river bathing as we speak…

Logan extends his arm and points his hand in the direction of the bear. The crowd follows with their eyes.

Caper is a show-stopper. He is one of the happiest bears any of us has ever seen. He is our featured attraction here at River’s Ridge Sanctuary. We provide semi-natural-to-their-habitat homes for bears, mountain lions, deer, bobcats, etc. You name it, we’ve got it! But Caper is something special.

Three years ago, he was found slumped over the stump of a chopped-down tree, dehydrated with a gaping wound in his lower left leg. Daniel, our Lead Ranger, placed the call to me. He gave me the rundown of the bear’s status and informed me to send out two more rangers, a sack of tranquilizers, and a pack of bottled water. He estimated his time there would be four hours. I issued the work order and had all of the items disbursed, along with the requested rangers, too.

If we had not acted fast, Caper wouldn’t be here today. So you see, not only is he our featured attraction, but he is the only bear with a story like this to tell at River’s Ridge Sanctuary. And we believe he knows just how special he is. I have to say, I’ve never seen a vain bear, but Caper is one.

He has grown accustomed to looking at himself in a mirror. When I visit his dwelling space, I take a hand-held mirror along with me. His greeting is always with a light paw to my right shoulder, and a welcoming scoff as he blows a puff of air into the forest around us. I pull out the mirror, hold it up directly in front of him, and he muses about himself for several minutes.

Stunned by his mannerisms, I leave the mirror with him. He has a collection of them now. Several of the rangers and staff have coined another nickname for him, one of which I do not approve, “Logan’s Very Special Vain Bear.”

Luckily, it hasn’t caught on… yet.

I enjoyed crafting this fiction piece for this week’s challenge. Maybe it’s something you’re interested in, too? If so, mosey on over to Melissa’s blog to give this challenge a once-over. I am sure she’ll be happy to see you there