Mid-Week Blues-Buster Week 3.16

Welcome to the Mid-Week Blues-Buster Flash Fiction Challenge, Year 3, Week 16.

Week 15 was yet another null week, with only three entries. Thank you to those of you who actually took the time to write for us…

Now, this week…

This is a flash fiction challenge. The prompt is a song. You are not required to write about or even mention the song. It’s there only to get the ideas moving around in your brain pan. If you want to write about the song (or the video- it’s all good here) go for it but don’t feel like you have to.

The rules;
500 words, but it’s a slushy 500, meaning you can go up to 700 or as low as 300.
Post your entry right in the comments section of this post.

MAKE SURE TO PUT YOUR TWITTER HANDLE NEXT TO YOUR WORD COUNT AT THE BOTTOM OF YOUR POST. IF YOU’RE NOT ON TWITTER GIVE ME AN EMAIL ADDRESS OR SOME OTHER WAY TO GET A HOLD OF YOU.

The challenge starts whenever I post this on Tuesday and ends at MIDNIGHT PACIFIC TIME on Friday. You read that right. Pacific Time.

This week’s song prompt brings us to the melancholy world of singer/songwriter Freedy Johnston.

The tune is, “Bad Reputation”. Here’s the link; https://youtu.be/OVqBYkrlsmw

I’m still doing the judging since the MWBB continues to be unpopular on the flash fiction circuit.

The challenge opens the moment you read this post and runs through MIDNIGHT PACIFIC TIME on Friday September 18th.

Now… Go write!!! Please?!?

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Posted on September 15, 2015, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Pattyann McCarthy

    You’re My Inspiration

    We’ve been together for a long time now and we’ve been through so much, you know that, don’t you? If I know it, I’m certain you know it. We’ve spent every day together for forty-six long years, though to me, it feels like we’ve just met yesterday. I think somewhere inside of me, I know it’s been longer than that, but I was so young, I couldn’t understand who you were, or why you were with me. I understand now that we were always meant to be. You and I were always meant to stand united, hand in hand traveling through this life together.

    You and I have had such a love affair, so many wonderful things to remember, and so many dark, difficult periods that I know we’d both rather forget. How can I tell you how much you mean to me? How do I say, “Without you, I’d be nothing?” I can’t imagine a day when you weren’t in my life, and I don’t want to consider what a single day would be like without you by my side.

    Do you remember the time when we first met? I do, with crystal clarity. We were so young back then, and I was so traumatized. I knew I needed something, someone to help me, but I didn’t know that something or someone was you. I think my trauma drew you to me, protecting me when no one else knew I needed it, and I was too weak to protect myself. You came to me when I was at my lowest, and you stayed through all of it. How do I say ‘thank you’ for all you’ve done? For all you’ve been to me and for all you continue to do.

    You harbored my memories when I was too scared to remember for myself, and you tucked them safely away for a day when I was strong enough to deal with them. You loved me and gave me encouragement when I didn’t believe in myself. You forced me to continue moving forward. You drew me from the monster’s den and gave me a place of safety and security, and how can I thank you for that. How can I show you my appreciation when you took me to a place of beauty while the storms raged outside? Because of you, I grew whole. Because of you, I ‘am’ whole. Because of you, I survived.

    All these years later, you continue slowly opening the doors that I’ve locked away, allowing snippets of horror to peek out now and then. You never overload me, giving me only enough for now. The monster is long gone from my life, yet the memories of him are still raw and fresh, but you are so gentle revealing long ago pain and torment. You make facing my abuser tolerable, and as I face him; the monster that once tortured my mind and my body, slowly disappears.

    You hold the keys of wisdom in my life; you are my fortitude. Is it wrong to say, “I love you,” for I do. Is it wrong to acknowledge you and all you’ve done for me? You are the unsung hero, the untold tale in my dreams, responsible for the creative fertility within me. I know you; I recognize you from long ago – you are my memory and my muse, the inspiration for the stories I tell.

    @PattyannMc
    http://www.pattyannmccarthy.com
    WC: 567

    Liked by 1 person

  2. @bullishink / 592 words

    THE FORECAST

    Outside, the storm batters the brick building, wind howling and rain rattling the windows. In the basement below, candles flicker and the scent of Earl Gray fills the little kitchen beside Eugenia’s office. She and Gideon are seated at the round metal and laminate table tucked in the corner beneath a pair of travel posters.

    She takes a sip and looks over the rim of the teacup. “Tell me, Detective. Why did Captain Nicholson assign you to the library like an errant child?”

    “Not my place to ask,” he says, setting his cup in its saucer.

    “Surely you have an idea. You’re not much for talking but you don’t have any problem voicing your opinion.”

    “Opinions, no.”

    “But outside of that, you’re not much of a conversationalist, are you?”

    “I’m sure that contributed to this assignment.”

    “In part. It’s just me, you, and the tea kettle here. Talk to me.”

    “My father retires in six months . Nicholson sent me here, to your dungeon of city files, so that I’m out of the way until then.”

    “I don’t understand,” she said, gathering the empty cups and taking them to the stove.

    “They don’t want my rate of solutions to outshine his. It would tarnish his outgoing record.”

    She refills the cups and returns to the table, sets the cups down and stands there facing him.
    “Are you telling me they want you to stop solving cases for six months?”

    He reaches for his cup but doesn’t drink. “Pretty much.”

    “I don’t believe it. Nicholson is a straight arrow. She’d never put an officer’s vanity before the community’s well-being.”

    “Orders came from over her head. I think sending me here was as close to a revolt as she could afford.”

    “How can teaming up a middle-aged librarian and an unconventional detective constitute rebellion?”

    “You’ve something of a reputation, Eugenia. I believe Nicholson intends to flaunt it in front of her superiors. The commander wouldn’t risk confronting you or upsetting your uptown contacts.”

    “We’re going round and round, and none of this is making sense.”

    “Nicholson gave me a list of cold cases she wants solved and she sent me here because you have access to the files I need to sift through and the high ranking officials I need to connect with to complete the job.”

    She pushes her cup to the center of the table. “We’re going to need something stronger than tea to continue this conversation. I have a bottle of whiskey in the cupboard. Here it is. The lid is sticking. Would you mind helping -”

    He is already standing behind her. “Of course.”

    “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all,” she says, her voice rough.

    “The library suffered budget cuts this month,” he says, twisting off the lid and handing her the bottle, “and the winter forecast says not many people will be trudging to the library in the next two or three months. This is the perfect time for a project like this.”

    She lifts the bottle to her mouth, and takes a drink. “Thwarting corrupt officials it tempting but having to put up with your social shortcomings is a hell of tradeoff.”

    “At least I was polite when I brought up your reputation. You just steamrolled me with mine.”
    She passes him the bottle. “Apologies, Gideon. I suggest we spend the rest of the evening drinking to our doom and sorting the fallout in the morning.”

    A storm rages inside and out, and before the winter was over, it would fell everything high and mighty.

    Liked by 1 person

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