This is my contribution for this week to Monday’s Finish the Story, hosted by Barbara W. Beacham. Every Monday, Barbara supplies a new picture prompt along with the first sentence for the story. The original story to be written should have only 100 to 150 additional words. I’ve bolded the first sentence given with the picture prompt.
To read the other stories written by group members, be sure to click first on the link given, and then on the little blue frog in the blue box. The link for all other stories is as follows:
Genre: Humor Fiction
Word Count: 2+8+144=154 Words
TOWN ODDITY by P.S. Joshi
The A&B Building was made entirely from driftwood. At least it was on the outside.
Jared Bitticom was a man with ideas to gain attention. His partner, Marcus Appleyard, had the idea for a building made of driftwood.
It had started in 1899 as a joke, and, at first, Jared hadn’t liked the idea.
He’d said, “Listen Marcus, we sell building supplies. Let’s not encourage people to build with free stuff.”
He had a point, but the idea gained acceptance.
Under the exterior, the rest of the building was made of wood treated to look old. It became a tourist attraction in the town.
Over the years, some hurdles had been passed, but the building survived.
In 1920, there was the woodpecker invasion. That left quite a dent.
In 1940, it was the termite onslaught where the A of A&B was eaten away. That cost a bundle in exterminator bills.
Another great review for Seumas.
…m’Lady, Janice Spina on her terrific blog pages, has done this ol’ Jurassic proud today…
Please welcome, author/blogger extraordinaire, Seumas Gallacher. Hi Seumas! So nice to have you here on my blog segment, Interview an Author! I am excited to learn more you about and yours books. I must say that I thoroughly enjoy reading your posts. They give me a good chuckle. Let’s begin your interview, shall we?
- Please tell us something about yourself.
Self-confessed nutter, flirting constantly with the thin line between insanity and whatever else is available… latecomer to the incredible world of writing, and LUVVIN every minute of it… after a career covering five decades and three continents, immersed in Finance and Banking, then corporate trouble-shooting, I still haven’t decided what I wanna be when I grow up… so meantime, being an Author it is…
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Photo Copyright: The Reclining Gentleman
Here we are again. This week we’re in a virtual restaurant near a virtual interstate highway. Our hostess for this gathering is the gracious and talented writer and artist, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Our group is the Friday Fictioneers. The challenge for each of us is to write a story with no more than 100 words. It’s supposed to have a beginning, middle, end, and follow the picture prompt provided for the week. This week’s prompt was provided by The Reclining Gentleman. Thanks, RG.
To read the other stories from group members, just click on the little blue frog in the blue box, after clicking on the link. The link for the other stories this week is as follows:
Genre: Realistic Fiction
Word Count: 99 Words
ANGEL AHEAD? by P.S. Joshi
“I wish now I’d started home earlier. Rain’s beating down, and the moon’s hidden.
“Luckily, traffic’s light. The idiot behind me has his high beams on.
“All at once a man’s appearing far ahead, standing in my lane. I slam the breaks on, sliding into the other lane.
“I finally come to a stop. Mr. High Beams behind me has disappeared.
“Climbing out, I walk back down the highway. Shining my flashlight, I see in horror the highway has washed away. Mr. High Beams lies far below, lights still on.
“The other man has disappeared, but where to?”
This makes you stop and think. Interesting.
The revelation this week that a new species of extinct human – H. naledi – has been found in South Africa begs a whole lot of questions.
For me, it also reinforces the responsibilities we have today as humans. It’s like this. Some 737 bones totalling 15 near-complete skeletons were found in what seems to be a paleolithic graveyard. The interesting thing is their apparent intellect. There is evidence that they had spiritualism, because they seem to have had cultural mechanisms – involving massive effort – to dispose of their dead. The way they did it – carrying their dead deep into a hard-to-enter cave complex – also implies they had full control of fire, for light.
All of which is another question mark over the conceit that the things modern humans use to define ourselves are unique to us. That includes recursive…
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Photo Copyright: Barbara W. Beacham
This is my contribution for this week to Monday’s Finish the Story. It’s hosted each week by Barbara W. Beacham. Every Monday, Barbara supplies a new picture prompt along with the first sentence for the story. The original story to be written should have only 100 to 150 additional words. I’ve bolded the sentence given with the picture prompt.
To read the other stories from group members, be sure to click on the little blue frog in the blue box, after clicking on the link. The link for all other stories this week is as follows:
Genre: Humor Fiction
Word Count: 2+6+150=158 Words
THE WALKWAY by P.S. Joshi
She lived in a mango tree. At least sometimes it seemed that way. A writer, Marilyn had the little tree house built for her needs.
It was okay until it rained, as the bathroom was in the main house. She needed a covered walkway so she wouldn’t get half drowned during storms.
One day there was a glow, and a beautiful fairy with a wand appeared.
“I’m your fairy godmother,” she said. “Do you desire a handsome prince?”
“No,” Marilyn replied, “I’m married.”
“Now I’m confused,” said the fairy. “Why was I called?”
“Well, I didn’t call you. Unless….”
“Yes,” said the fairy.
“I could use a covered walkway to the house.”
“Is that all? Why?” asked the fairy. “I’m not a builder.”
“There’s no bathroom here and it’s raining.”
“Oh, all right,” said the fairy. She reluctantly waved the wand, and the walkway appeared.
“Thank you,” said Marilyn
“You’re welcome,” said the fairy, and disappeared.
I’ve never totally understood people who can read but don’t.
You can be a Reader and not be a Writer.
You cannot be a Writer without being a Reader, first and always.
No exceptions. No arguments. No Ifs, Ands, or Buts.
We learn to read before we learn to write. We learn to write well by continuing to read, forever and ever. No excuses like, “I’m too busy writing to make time to read,” or “I don’t want to be influenced by another author,” or “I’m afraid if I read a book while writing this one I’ll lose my unique voice.” No, no, and no, I reply. Not good enough, because as I said above, No Exceptions! And that means you, as well as every other Writer.
Sorry to have to bring out the tough love, folks, but I’m tired of hearing these excuses from too many of you. And I’ve said it all before. If you want to learn…
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Photo Copyright: David Stewart
Here we are again this week. This time we’re sitting in a virtual yard in India across from a trash bin. Our guide for this virtual trip taken by our group, the Friday Fictioneers, is the gracious and talented author and artist, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge for each of us is to write a story with no more than 100 words. It’s supposed to have a beginning, middle, end, and follow the pciture prompt provided for the week. This week’s prompt was provided by David Stewart. Thanks, David.
To read the other stories by group members, just click on the link given, then on the little blue frog in the blue box. The link for the other stories this week is as follows:
Genre: Realistic Fiction
Word Count: 100 Words
POOR IN INDIA by P.S. Joshi
Every day she goes to a trash bin to separate things she can resell.
She takes off her cheap flip-flops and wades in, filling the large, empty bag she brings along with recyclable plastic sheets, bags, bottles, hard plastics, cloth, etc.
Competition is other rag pickers and the starving feral dogs always searching for edible garbage.
She brings her youngest child with her to keep him safe from her drunken husband. One neighbor was arrested for selling his child.
When she gets money, she has to quickly buy food before her husband steals it for drink. He often beats her.