FOWC with Fandango ~ Tonight returns

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They visited me again, my fragmented dreams

Individual chapters as one unified scream

Past lessons in inferiority once forced upon me

Still rooted in my brain like some rotted trees

Despite today’s path in which I control what I envision

I am haunted by cruelty of what once kept me imprisoned

These bled echos will return later tonight

But, I smile for now for I have reclaimed back my life

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Written for Fandango’s FOWC challenge for 4/4

 

Fandango’s FFC #37 ~ Shadow of the Devil #fffc

Nothing could happen to her in the daylight, this one thing she had convinced herself of as a possibility.  It had been six months since the attack and today, Megan Carrigan was ready to take another step forward in her healing. A jog out in the park might be beneficial to her mentally and definitely, physically.  She always loved to run, a passion that she had discovered with cross-country track back in high school. That passion, like most everything else that made her smile, died one October night.

Trauma is a wonderful thing. It sometimes makes one forget the “meat” of whatever tragedy they were was forced to consume. Megan remembers a man’s shape in the alleyway and then, the emergency room afterwards. Everything else was a distorted echo. The experience paused her life and Megan became a living shell of herself.

She finished stretching her calve-muscles, which like every other muscle in her body became stiff with atrophy. A vacant jogging path awaited her, devoid of people on this April morning. The first few sprints became familiar to her. Patterns of past acts returned like a reflex being hit. The crisp-air filled her nostrils and her eyes glistened with that old endorphin spark of activity as she picked up her pace.

She approached the entrance-way  to the north-side bridge, hitting her full stride as she started to run through it. Then, ten feet past the exit, she came to a dead stop.

Just outside the bridge, cast upon the ground was a shadow. Not just any shadow, Megan thought but, his shadow.

The slow building wave of anxiety began to consume Megan’s thoughts.

“How did he find me?? This can’t be!!”

Darkness calmed her as she closed her eyes for a mere moment. She thought of summers at the beach with her folks growing up. How the water would tickle her toes as waves rolled over her feet.

She opened her eyes, took a deep breath and ran at out of the tunnel like a woman on fire. When she reached a certain distance and felt strong enough to look back, Megan saw it was in fact a police officer walking his beat up on the bridge. Not him, at all.

Her legs became rejuvenated with relief as she continued to run through the park. She had beaten the devil’s shadow for now, realizing that this constant battle to reclaim her life would always be lurking wherever she ran.

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Written for Fandango’s Flash Fiction 37

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FOWC with Fandango ~ Clear Drive

The decision that Martin Willis would be willing to make was really quite clear to him. Either he would start his car to drive towards his planned destination or he would recline the driver’s seat and swallow twenty sleeping pills. The very notion of attempting the latter was commonplace for Martin. To him, ending his life was a daily regime that he had practiced for many years. Life for him was created by own crooked perception. A couple walking through a store were viewed by Martin as people happily in love, a thing he preemptively deduced forever unattainable.  The smiles on strangers were interpreted as their dreams fulfilled to Martin, who never achieved his elusive  contentment. This was Martin’s world , or at least how he viewed it. Many adult years of believing this distortion made him quite comfortable in deciding it was time to “throw in the towel”. The storm clouds that had been above his car suddenly dissipated and blue skies overwhelmed his windshield. It was as if the day, right then at that moment, decided to change its mind and start over. Martin felt his eyes covered in fresh warmth from the emerging sun, as his vision became enlightened. He turned the key in his ignition forward as decided to act upon his original plan. A simple drive forward towards an initial appointment with a therapist. Martin’s car sped off, the sleeping pills rolling around on the passenger’s floor still unopened in their container.
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Written for- https://fivedotoh.com/2020/01/23/fowc-with-fandango-clear/

FOWC with Fandango/ August writing prompts ~ The new scene

3

Today’s dating scene has changed from what it once was

Such different ways to find friends and perhaps even love

It’s a much simpler quest with everyone online

Gone are the days of set-ups and pickup lines

Still, quite a task trying to advertise yourself

Selling your traits alongside others on that singles-only shelf

Having to list all your likes and any pet-peeves

As if you were getting picked to play on a winning team

Then there’s your pic which you feel just never looks right

Finding face abnormalities that only you see with your sight

You finally upload your profile into this club of lonely hearts fun

And wait for responses from hopefully the eventual, right one

Connecting this way sometimes seems like an impossibility

Just trying to find someone to meet – the magnificent me

 

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Written for Fandango’s FOWC prompt – https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/79388113/posts/2394565478

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FOWC with Fandango/August Writing/ Twittering Tales ~ The right taxi

4

Holt finally found the cab he had been looking for. It had no no way out, being stuck in traffic. “Pop the trunk” Wills ordered one driver. “On who’s authority?” the driver said as Holt flashed his badge. The trunk opened. Wills found it filled with skulls and shackles. Holt got his man at last.

(299 characters)

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Written for this week’s Twittering Tales prompt from Kat Myrman.

Written for https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/79388113/posts/2376966783

Written for August Writing Prompt – Skulls and shackles – Day 13/31

 

FOWC with Fandango ~ Bite the big apple #FOWC

3

Living in Manhattan was always a dream for Eric Payne. He grew up in a small Pennsylvania town and often would dream of some day living in the city ‘that never sleeps’.  It took him some time, saving up every penny and a sharp focus on a goal that finally was realized.  He looked out of his apartment window,  joyfully listening to the rushing sounds of the city.  The hustle of hundreds as they scurried by below him. Taxis beeping as they raced by his building. This constant motion of life intoxicated Eric and overwhelmed his rural background. He felt the adrenaline flow rapidly through his veins as he soaked in his new life here, his dream fulfilled.

“Hey Buddy, whatcha doing?”

It was Eric’s new roommate, Chris. They had found each other through the ‘roommate wanted’ ads in the Village Voice. Eric turned away from the window.

“Just enjoying the life of the city.  I think its just..incredible”

Chris shrugged and sat down on the couch.

“I guess. It means nothing to me. When you’ve lived in the city your whole life, its just kinda of nothing”.

Eric stood there, disappointed in Chris. Maybe he couldn’t appreciate this having “eaten the big apple” his whole life. This was a shame, Eric thought. He looked back out the window again, his mouth watering with anticipation.

“Why don’t you go out then? Go live a little of that exciting city life.” Chris smugly said, then chuckled. He was completely unaware that Eric was now standing behind him.

“Hey, that’s a good idea!”  Eric exclaimed. “I gotta eat some dinner first”.

“Don’t touch my leftover Chinese food in the fridge. I’m saving that-

Chris’s head was suddenly jerked over the back of the couch. His hair held tightly by Eric as he looked up into his now red eyes.  The new couch that Chris  brought with him from his old apartment, now had his blood splattered across its cushions.  Eric had chomped down on Chris’s neck.  He sucked out as much as he wanted in satifysing his hunger, leaving Chris sitting up now dead.

“It really is just incredible to finally be here”  Eric thought as he returned back to look out the window.  “This city is filled with just so much…life”.

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Written for Fandango’s FOWC prompt – Vampire

FOWC with Fandango/SoCS ~ Time for a new shirt #FOWC #SoCS

4

His favorite shirt now needed to be throughly cleaned. That’s really all that mattered to Patrick Mears-this shirt. It had always meant so much to him. Even more than his boss who was now slowly dying right in front of him. “Why couldn’t you just do the right thing for once?”  Patrick calmly thought. Eight years of trying to keep the dirty dealings of Waterman & Snells Financial services completely legal and not one extra dime over any average accountant’s salary was given to him, ever. Patrick felt he deserved this salary bump more than anyone else at this corrupt firm. Despite a convincing, fact-based argument to anyone else who would have heard it, Nick Margolis denied Patrick’s request. Where was the fairness in all of this?  The framed pictures of race horses and yachts around Nick’s office silently  mocked Patrick as he plunged a pen directly into Nick’s left eye. “I really liked this shirt”  He thought again as he looked down at the blood spill splattered all over his sleeve. Patrick felt genuinely sad over the unnecessary mess that had been made, completely ambivalent to the human life that  he had just ended.

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Written for Fandango’s FOWC prompt- Spill and Linda G. Hill’s SOCS prompt

 

FOWC~ Scary and stalled #Fandango

Why attempt an escape from this current decline

Such silly endeavors merely waste all your time

This returned stagnation again feels so warm

No incentive to make illusions as you did once before

While in this dim state, a tarnish clouds all your past writings

You’re fooled that their words had nourished basically nothing

Are you sold yet on this dampening distraction?

When in fact it’s true purpose is pausing your passion

Sift through these obstacles cluttering your artistic recession

Find a new spark out of this darkening suppression

Resurrecting your muse can seem rather scary

Unleashing its fury long held down by a sloth adversary

 

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https://wordpress.com/read/feeds/79388113/posts/2544185293

 

FOWC with Fandango ~ The Blank frustration #FOWC

2

This blank frustration renders me still

Forcing words down against my will

People think being able to write is a heavenly gift

It’s also a burden often difficult to lift

It’s more than just verbs coupled with nouns

It is a tapping of veins in letting stories flow out

False lives are born from the sparks in your mind

Connected through ink they make escapes from your life

A rambling of concepts that sometimes make sense

Coherent in structure in its formidable dense

Its all an illusion making such tales as easily rendered

The truth being that writing can be a torturous splendor

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Written for Fandango’s FOWC – Coherent

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SoCS/FOWC/Friday Fictioneers/WWP ~ The Work of Art #FOWC #Fridayfictioneers #SoCS #Fandango

6

“You call that art?” Victor said as handed Officer Robbins a pretzel from his cart. “Art is like that Italian broad in the frame, Mona something.”  Robbins bit into the pretzel, grateful that Victor was still peddling this late.  He looked at the sculpture that Victor was referring too.  It wasn’t his taste either but, still pretty in its own way. “You shouldn’t judge all art by your tastes, Victor” Robbins said, truly enjoying the freshness of his pretzel.  Victor questioned “Well, whats a work of art to you?”  Robbins smiled at Victor,
“Your pretzels”.

(95 words)

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Written using the following prompts – Stream of Consciousness Saturday  Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt #115. , Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Roger Bultot. and finally, Fandago’s FOWC prompt  https://fivedotoh.com/2019/07/20/fowc-with-fandango-grateful/