The Apple

Doug stared at the cursor which marked the end of a lengthy piece. A smashing piece, really; one for which he might garner literary praise.

-If not for a little thing called conscience. Doug’s finger poised over the ‘Submit’ option, pulled back.

It’s not a factual article. Don’t publish it.

His conscience sounded deeper than Jiminy Cricket but was no less annoying. He was a grown man, working for The Apple, for the love of -! Well! He, Doug, was not to be bullied by a fantastical creature.

He clicked the button, releasing his minor poison to the unsuspecting masses.

Written, factually, for Charli’s prompt at Carrot Ranch.

August 8, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a poisoned apple. Let’s explore dark myth. Deconstruct the original or invent something new. Negotiate the shadows, shed light, but go where the prompt leads you!

Respond by August 13, 2019. Use the comment section below to share, read, and be social. You may leave a link, pingback, or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form.  Rules & Guidelines.

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

Those Who Knew Her

She hadn’t expected a fanfare, nor a parade. Like most who pass through life, she’d thought those who knew her would attend: Mr. Partridge, her under-neighbor; Mrs. Tolk with the annoying parrot next-door; even cranky Mr. Ky, who delivered her groceries.

“None of them,” she said in a church whisper.

As the pastor’s words echoed round the empty room, she felt an empty hand pat her incorporeal arm. One other soul attended. “I’m sorry,” Clarence commiserated. He gave her a smile.

Miss Wonderly murmured, “Thank you,” softly as before and sat down on the edge of the chair’s wooden seat.

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100 words for Kristian’s 50 Word Thursday Prompt.

Miss Wonderly murmured, “Thank you,” softly as before and sat down on the edge of the chair’s wooden seat.” – The Maltese Falcon – Dashiell Hammett.

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

Song, for One

I changed my name
You changed your mind…

Linzee squinted at the spotlights. Rows of apathetic audience saw only themselves in her mirrored lenses.

I should’ve listened
When you weren’t kind…

They were philistines, all of them. Uncultured. Uncaring. Still, better than him.

You think I’m all alone;
You think I’m yours to own!

Someone perked up. Another. Linzee strummed the crescendo to the chorus, sunglasses sparking in the rudimentary stage lights.

I shouldn’t’ve told you anything
Except where to shove that ring!

It didn’t matter. Tonight was hers; hers and those few who knew exactly what she sung.

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Rock on, Charli, over at Carrot Ranch. (Not that Charli is Linzee, but that both keep rocking life.)

August 1, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a rock star. You can feature a central character or write about the feeling like a rock star. Go where the prompt leads!

Respond by August 6, 2019. Use the comment section below to share, read, and be social. You may leave a link, pingback, or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form.  Rules & Guidelines.

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

One More Day

Smoky, slatted sunlight lay in lines across the staring face. Soon, only a muted glowing shone there as the associated hand pulled the blinds closed again. *Snap*

He’d said he’d be different; for one more day. That had been a gigantic step, vocalizing. Into the dark of night and mind he’d stood and whispered, “Tomorrow, I go out.”

A laugh escaped the lips. Whose, he did not know; but then, he did. A distant memory of non-lined sunlight views and happier company than his own filtered to recollection.

Then; he was sure he’d laughed. Then; she had, too.

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What came to me for Carrot Ranch‘s prompt this week: for one day.

July 25, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes the phrase “for one day.” The words single out a special occurrence. What is the emotion and vibe, where does it take place and why? Go where the prompt leads!

Respond by July 30, 2019. Use the comment section below to share, read, and be social. You may leave a link, pingback, or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form.  Rules & Guidelines.

 

Photo Credit:
Ethan Sykes

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

Paint

Some great writers painted pretty pictures this week at Carrot Ranch. If you want to participate in next week’s prompt, click here.

Carrot Ranch Literary Community

Color me something new, something bold. Color over the mistakes and past regrets. Pick up a brush and paint bold strokes, flashy colors. This is a time to refresh.

Writers met the challenge with colorful stories full of emotion, surprise, horror and humor. All the paint cans opened to reveal a rainbow collection.

The following are based on the June 27, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that involves paint.

PART I (10-minute read)

Charli’s Starlingsby Chelsea Owens

No one knew where the starlings came from. One day, the sidewalks and light posts and old brick buildings were bare; the next, they were scattered with flight.

Up and down Shelden Avenue elderly friends stopped their morning walk and children pointed and pulled at parents’ pants.

Winged, irridescent forms swooped up a wall. Yellow-beaked stills observed from flower pots. A proud male perched…

View original post 4,694 more words

Charli’s Starlings

No one knew where the starlings came from. One day, the sidewalks and light posts and old brick buildings were bare; the next, they were scattered with flight.

Up and down Shelden Avenue elderly friends stopped their morning walk and children pointed and pulled at parents’ pants.

Winged, iridescent forms swooped up a wall. Yellow-beaked stills observed from flower pots. A proud male perched atop an awning.

Passersby soon realized that, lifelike as the birds were, they existed solely as pictures. For one woman, that mattered little.

She kissed her paint-stained fingertips in fond farewell, turned, and headed home.

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For Charli and her starling, and for this week’s prompt at Carrot Ranch.

June 27, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that involves paint. It can be fresh, peeling or in need of a coat. What is being painted and why? Go where the prompt leads!

Respond by July 3, 2019. Use the comment section below to share, read, and be social. You may leave a link, pingback, or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form.  Rules & Guidelines.

 

Photo Credit:
John Yunker

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

Adult Swim

“I can’t stand no longer,” I tell Mama, but she gives me That Look; so I wobble and watch the grown-ups flop around slowly like old, fat whales-

“Maahm,” I start. Now Janie shoots me The Look an’ it’s just like Mama’s -but I can tell that Janie wants ’em to hurry jus’ as much as me, ’cause up she goes on her toes then back down.

The whole line of us kids is bobbing and dancin’ -I think maybe the lifeguard sees; for, jus’ when I know we’re gonna jump, we fin’lly hear the whistle.

An’ we run.

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Finally delivered for Carrot Ranch‘s writing prompt this week.

June 20, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about having to wait. Who is waiting and what for? Think about how the wait impacts the character or the story. Go where the prompt leads!

Respond by June 25, 2019. Use the comment section below to share, read, and be social. You may leave a link, pingback, or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form.  Rules & Guidelines.

 

Photo Credit:
Photo by Marc Richards from Pexels

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

Release, Renew, Rebirth

The dancing, licking, crackling flames grew ever higher in the charred witches’ pot; convincing her they would writhe and rise above the rim.

And yet, they did not.

To a mirrored dance within her fascinated gaze, the fire merely danced and licked and crackled ’round its assigned artifact: the last human’s heart.

Yes, she breathed.

Hardly blinking, she and shifting wall shadows watched the smoky Samba churn and char the once-beating organ to a new and better form.

Gasping at the fresh-forged heat, she reached in to eagerly release her new heart.

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Mixed and forged for Girlie on the Edge‘s Six Sentence Story.

 

Photo Credit:
Maxim Tajer

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

Raw Poetry

Here I sit in front of a keyboard
and I type on that keyboard
with my fingers but maybe also my toes
that’s so I can eat my sandwich and french fry sauce without getting it in between the keys like last time
which was messy
and bad
sorry, mum

And yet I think I need to write with fingers or toes
or now my tongue
it’s clean
enough
I
think
And yet I think I need to write with whatever because of the need to write which is like an open mouth that needs to vomit
Oh

Maybe that was from the fry sauce.

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Atrociously penned for the brilliant Anisha and her(?) Raw Poetry Contest.

 

Photo Credit:
Alex Iby

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

Many Hands Make Enlightened Work

We walked across the summer courtyard, two t-shirt youth among many, to stand before the spacious building. Stairs upon stairs climbed to the fountain’s zenith and proposed rooftop garden.

Commands came and we moved to assemble ourselves, each teenager on a stair, an arms-width apart. You: a little more. You: a little less.

Then, hand to hand to hand we passed a bucket’s brigade of grass. Smiling volunteers moved sod and flower from truck to tippy top.

Now, years later, our children look up. They marvel at roof-ledge bush and sky-reach trees, and the story that grew them there.

Conference Center

Photograph by Craig Dimond © IRI

Remembered for Carrot Ranch‘s prompt this week.

June 13, 2019, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about the work of many hands. Is it a cooperative effort or something else? Go where the prompt leads!

Respond by June 18, 2019. Use the comment section below to share, read, and be social. You may leave a link, pingback, or story in the comments. If you want to be published in the weekly collection, please use the form.  Rules & Guidelines.