Fiction: Thursday's not a good day to wreak havoc

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are supplied by Alex J. Cavanaugh and are hosted at River's blog here. This week's prompts are: conglomerate, Thursday, catfish, blue, fantastic, Atlantis. Another optional prompt is Charlotte's colour of the month - Dusty Mauve. 
    The aim of Words for Wednesday is to use one or all of the prompts to write something - ie, a story, a poem, an essay or any forms of writing, fiction or nonfiction, basically write anything you want.
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Fiction: Thursday's not a good day to wreak havoc
Charm's grandmother Opal always said Thursday was a good day to wreak havoc on those who wronged you but Charm didn't believe it. Besides, it was her birthday and she wanted to be guilt-free and injury-free. 
    At the Blue Atlantis Burgers and Grub diner, Charm and her husband, Reece, their triplet pre-teen sons, Reece's youngest sister Mary and her spouse Jack and at their toddler son, Reece's older brother Joseph and his spouse Jane and their two teen daughters, Reece's aunt and uncle and their two daughters with their spouses along with various relatives conglomerated for Charm's thirty-ninth birthday dinner. The diner was too fantastic to take in - star constellations on the ceiling, booths in hues of blues and silver, star patterned floor tiles and oldies music flowing from an old-fashioned jukebox. Even the waitresses wore headbands with antennas that ended in fuzzy pompoms. Charm was in heaven. When Reece suggested the diner for her birthday dinner and shown her photographs, Charm had thought he had been catfished until she heard one of her friends recommended the diner.
    When they finished dinner, one of the waitresses wheeled out a large cake topped with a single candle shaped 40. Thunder clapped and rain began splattering against the glass panes and the door. Everyone turned to look but it became too dark to see anything out there.
    A shiver ran down Charm's spine. Was someone going to wreak havoc on her birthday? 

Fiction: The Perils of Kidnapping a Tired Witch

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are supplied by Sean Jeating and are hosted at River's blog here. This week's prompts are: death, forward, important, intend, left and/or pleasure, step, touch, things, understand. Another optional prompt is Charlotte's colour of the month - Smoky Rose. 
    The aim of Words for Wednesday is to use one or all of the prompts to write something - ie, a story, a poem, an essay or any forms of writing, fiction or nonfiction, basically write anything you want.

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Fiction: The Perils of Kidnapping a Tired Witch
Della was exhausted from lack of sleep and from all the work to keep her hotel from going kaput. If her stepmother, Hillary, her siblings, Jacky and Didi, didn't fall ill at the same time and then decided to take a month's vacation away and if their housekeeper, maid, cook's helper, assistant manager didn't quit, maybe Della wouldn't have minded it as much. At least their cook, Mrs. Tides, didn't quit but only because Della doubled her salary though she was a cousin of her stepmother's. 
    Even with ten guests, it was hectic. And winter season meant Della had to switch out all the beddings, get the heating working and other matters her siblings, stepmother and employees should have done. Thank goodness for her assistant, Mason. Della wouldn't have been able to getting everything done without him.
    After one exhausted evening, Della was bidding two guests farewell by the front entrance of her hotel, when a van halted. Two men came out, grabbed Della, shoved her into the back of the van and drove off. As she lay on the floor, she fell asleep but was wakened when the van screeched to a stop and she bumped against the wall. The doors clapped open, a fat hand grabbed her and pulled her out. It was nearly midnight, most of houses were dark and the sidewalks were empty. 

Fiction: The Ghost in the Library

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are supplied by Sean Jeating and are hosted at River's blog here. This week's prompts are: countenance, favourite, once, pillow, regret and/or bags, faces, machos, steps , swearboarding (makeup but related to waterboarding or skatingboarding and cursing). Another optional prompt is Charlotte's colour of the month - Smoky Rose. 
    The aim of Words for Wednesday is to use one or all of the prompts to write something - ie, a story, a poem, an essay or any forms of writing, fiction or nonfiction, basically write anything you want.

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Fiction: The Ghost in the Library
No one knew who the ghost was in Madam Maxim's manor library but all were certain there was one. Madam's housekeeper, butler, maids, relatives and visitors to the manor all claimed they saw it.
    At the beginning of the spring season, James Washington Maxwell, a friend of Madam's granddaughter's friend's cousin, was invited for a long visit at the manor. Ghosts to him were all nonsense and catawampuses. He had no fear of encountering them. 
    After two evenings of behaving himself, James faked a buggy stomach and turned in for the night. When all was silent, he snuck into the library.

Fiction: The Helper Witch

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are supplied by Sean Jeating and are hosted at River's blog here. This week's prompts are: children, couple, emancipated, fun, idyll and/or happen, just, moment, peaceful, things. 
    The aim of Words for Wednesday is to use one or all of the prompts to write something - ie, a story, a poem, an essay or any forms of writing, fiction or nonfiction, basically write anything you want.

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Fiction: The Helper Witch 
Lucia was emancipated from her parents, husband, siblings, friends and yet, her life was not idyll nor peaceful. Doing everything herself was something she had never done before but she was willing. When she brought the broken down house, she had hoped to turn it into a bed and breakfast to maybe make a living and restart her life without everybody interfering. About a year into the renovation, she broke her leg and all her plans went kaput. 
    That fateful night, Lucia was just tidying up the livingroom after the workers had finished for the day when one of the scaffolds collapsed on her. It took four painful minutes before she mustered the will to call which ended in a shouting match with one surly building contractor before she was taken to the hospital.

Fiction: Meet the Family

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are supplied by Sean Jeating and hosted at River's blog here. This week's prompts are: contemporaries, easily, life, met, never and/or one, say, sentence, who, within. Another optional prompt is Charlotte's colour of the month - Smoky Rose.
    The aim of Words for Wednesday is to use one or all of the prompts to write something – ie, a story, a poem, an essay or any forms of writing, fiction or nonfiction, basically write anything you want.

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Fiction: Meet the Family
Like his contemporaries, James wanted to make a good impression when his would-be bride meet his family but he knew they were not the kind of normal people would expect.
    The instant Sophia stepped into the entry, she was greeted with a bloodcurdling scream. "It's the clock," said James. He had forgotten to tell his father to change the sounds but it was October and his family loved Halloween. His eldest sister Mercy, who had opened the door, smirked. Sophia's eyes widened but she was smiling. He ushered her into the livingroom and introduced his father, Pat, his mother Eliza, his other elder sisters, Savor, Grace, his three uncles Stuart, Arthur, Clay and their wives Sandy, Amelia and Caroline and each of their teenager, Samatha, Arthur Jr. and Clara.
    In the dinning room, Sophia sat between James and Mercy. His mother usually sat at the head but she went to the kitchen to fetch more food though the entire dinning table was already covered with victuals that you couldn't even see the table.
    James tried to smile away his nervousness. He couldn't help but noticed Sophia's hesitant smile. Was it necessary for his uncle Arthur to ask how was her last menstruation? He was a gynecologist but she wasn't his patient. Did Savor had to inquire if Sophia was allergic wolf fur? Did Caroline needed to know if Sophia's family had a history of insanity?

Fiction: Good Hair Day

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are supplied by River. This week's words/prompts are: extravagant, koala, plane, charged, potatoes, alone. Another optional prompt is Charlotte's colour of the month - vivid tangerine. 
    The aim of Words for Wednesday is to use one or all of the prompts to write something – ie, a story, a poem, an essay or any forms of writing, fiction or nonfiction, basically write anything you want.

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~ This is a continuation of this story here ~

Fiction: Good Hair Day
11:01 AM
The Samoyed was too busy admiring herself in the mirror to notice Tess Mercy walking out the door and closing it. Sometimes Tess thought she must be living in another plane of existence or else why did it keep happening? Her ability to change people into animals when she touch them when they anger or mistreat is a family curse she inherited nine months ago when she turned thirty. 
    The Samoyed was Tess' landlady, Mrs. Grant. She never used to raise rent or evict anyone but after her husband's passing, she became highly charged with anger and distrust. Tess wished she had not been so hasty to rush down to Mrs. Grant's apartment when she read the notice with the rent raise. Considering the building had been slowly falling to disrepair, a 300 dollar raise was ridiculous. But Tess' plead didn't alter Mrs. Grant's decision even if Tess did save her life once. 
    Five years ago, Mrs. Grant was evicting one of the tenants when the man set fire to his apartment with Mrs. Grant inside. Tess heard her scream when she was walking down the stairwell. It was hard work carrying a semi-conscious Mrs. Grant down the five flights of stairs. Sometimes Tess regretted saving her especially when the old woman kept raising the rent. 

Fiction: Bungee Jumping & Maybe Merfolk

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are supplied by messymimi and can be found on her blog as well as River's blog. This week's prompts are: attention, vague, orbit, game, think, insistence and/or single, brand, barrel, bless, stake, cap. Additional optional prompt is Charlotte's colour of the month - Steel Blue. 
    The aim of Words for Wednesday is to use one or all of the prompts to write something – ie, a story, a poem, an essay or any forms of writing, fiction or nonfiction – basically write anything you want.    

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Fiction: Bungee Jumping & Maybe Merfolk
As he jumped off the bridge's deck, Hawken Decker had a vague idea he might be heading toward his death. All his life, Hawken had been blessed. His family always supported him no matter what he did. But this was to be his last stunt, the last time he did anything this stupid. As he barreled through his unwanted thoughts, he wondered if his sister would miss him.
    Moments ago Hawken stood on the bridge's deck and peering down at the water and drenched in sweat. He had removed his brand new baseball cap and wiped his forehead about five times. Everyone had been orbiting around him like he was a star except there were only twelve people including two professional bungee jumpers who set up the equipments. A few passerby had paid Hawken some glances but they didn't linger, not in the 95°F heat. Maybe Hawken shouldn't have invited Bethany Price since she kept chatting on her phone. His best friend Stella Prickling's insistence grin made Hawken wanted to smack her. She had held a thumbs up and lifted the camera to her eye. Stella was always gaming Hawken into believing every stunt was the greatest thing Hawken would ever do but Stella had no stakes in them except earning a few bucks for posting the videos online. 
    Bungee jumping wasn't dangerous but if the rope somehow failed, Hawken might just crush his brain against the side of the bridge or he might drown in the river below and if not, he might be unable to swim to safety. 
    Hawken was a fool. Twenty-six years old and what did he have to show for? Just some dumb stunts. Hawken could blame Stella for living like this but he chose to do these stunts. Sometimes Hawken wanted to go back and unmade the decision to be friends with Stella in second grade. When Hawken had tripped and fell over his tray of lunch, Stella had helped him cleaned up and even shared her lunch. Hawken still could remember the ham sandwich that had caused him a stomachache but Stella's kindness stayed with him.
    Flying through the air, Hawken was surprised how heavenly it was before he started dipping into the water. He didn't hear a snap but he was certain the rope had broke and he was loose in the water. The freezing liquid was soothing to his hot body but as he sank farther down, he cursed. A strange power surged through him and he swam upward only to slow down as his arms and legs ached while tangled in some rope. Unable to hold his breath any longer, he slacked his mouth. His vision started darkening and then he blacked out.

Fiction: Next Stop: Oblivion, Indiana

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are supplied by messymimi and can be found on her blog as well as River's blog.This week's words/prompts are: plastic, remain, tooth, wisecrack, distant, enjoy and/or heads up; not all it's cracked up to be (failing to be as good as other people claimed); playing possum (pretending to be dead). Another optional prompt is Charlotte's colour of the month - Steel Blue. I only used the first set of prompts.
    The aim of Words for Wednesday is to use one or all of the prompts to write something – ie, a story, a poem, an essay or any forms of writing and the theme/topic is up to you so basically write anything you want.

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Fiction: Next Stop: Oblivion, Indiana
The sky is a gray mass pouring droplets in a carefree but quiet manner. Mavis Manor quickens her pace while dragging her large suitcase behind her. A car rushes toward her and she stumbles backward and onto the ground. For a moment, she calms her racing heart while silently cursing the driver. 
    After adjusting the strap of her shoulder bag and picking up her steel blue suitcase, she enters the station where she finds her way to stand behind the last man in a long line to the train. She listens to the muffled voices and hesitant movements. Is everyone moving slower than usual?
    All morning, she had tried to hurry – sorting, packing, trashing, endless decision making – why is moving so exhausting? 
    Now her afternoon is disappearing and still, it's as if time isn't moving at all. The rain too seems to be moving slower now. Just a few moments ago, she has to discard her umbrella when it collapsed. She licks her lips. Why does the rain taste sweet?
    The man ahead of her takes two steps forward and reluctantly Mavis follows. Already, she misses her tiny apartment but she won't miss waiting on tables and cleaning after people every week with barely time for anything. I can enjoy life later, she often thought. Two months ago, when her fiancé lost their life savings, then went on a suicidal drive with Mavis, her mother and sister, she was cheated of her hard-earn happiness. The moment she woke from a head injury and found out he had died along with her mother and sister, she wished he had lived so she could kill him. But when she thought of her mother and sister, she wanted to disappear, like her father. When Mavis was five and her sister was two, her father went out to buy baby formulas and never came back. One of his friends said he saw him getting on a bus.
    Just when the remains of her patience is slowing ebbing away, it is Mavis' turn. The porter throws her suitcase into the luggage bay of the train. Did she hear a cracking sound? Mavis pictures the glass frame with her family but she is too exhausted to care. She climbs onto the train and takes a seat by the window. The ride is a bit long and she fears the plastic chair will make her regret sitting. 
    Her stomach does a little tumble. The burnt eggs and weak coffee seem so long ago. She longs for some glazed donuts. Her friend, Sally, always said with Mavis' sweet tooth, she might bloat up to 300 pounds. Mavis never cared for Sally's wisecracks. Besides, a woman should be able to enjoy a sweet dessert without worrying about her weight.
    The train shakes and starts moving. In the distant, she hears thunder. Through the windows smattered with raindrops, she watches the passing houses and trees. 
    "Next stop: Oblivion, Indiana," comes the announcement from the speaker. 
    Her heart pumps quicker. This is what she wants so why is she terrified?
    Everything will be new but she will be old but she can get used to that.
    A few hours later, she is exiting the train. After securing her suitcase, she finds the exit and walks out the double doors of the station. Outside, the gray, rainless night meets her. She tightens the grip on her suitcase's handle. Something in her memory shifts and she forgets why she is there. She tries to remember but there is no backlogs of memories in her mind. The rain, she remembers. It had licked her face and she had drank it in and tasted its sweetness.
    She looks around her. This is the right place, she thinks. Only, she minds that she has forgot her name.

Fiction: Bad Hair Day

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are supplied by Charlotte and hosted at River's blog here. This week's prompts are: snake, linen, cake, tired, letter, clip and/or brush, matter, rake, blue, bush, read.

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Fiction: Bad Hair Day
10:22 AM
Tess Mercy didn't need to rush but she didn't want to see Rob turned into a donkey or a snake or some other animal.

10:01 AM
Twenty-one minutes ago, Tess and Rob were at Ingrid's Diner having some cheap but decent coffee. After some small talk, Rob said, "Tess, I think we should go our separate ways. I'm sure you'll find someone—"
    "Better than you. Thanks for saying so, Rob." Tess smiled.
    "I didn't— Never mind. I thought you were going to throw something at me or even hit me." Rob chuckled and raked a hand through his blond curls. 
    "Why would I do that?" She grinned. "Thanks to you, I'm a free woman." 
    "I'm so glad you understand, Tess." He grinned.
    She should be angry at Rob, her boyfriend of almost a year, engaged to another woman since last year and was breaking up with Tess as if she didn't matter.
    But Tess never liked to fuss in front of people especially since she worked with some of them. She dabbed her mouth with the napkin and dropped it on the table. Smiling, she stood up and said, "Goodbye, Rob. Have a nice life," and lightly tapped his hand. She half-ran out the exit, toward a subway station, down the stairs through the turnstile and in a few moments a train arrived and she hopped inside. 

Fiction: Storms & Misfortunes

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are supplied by Charlotte and hosted at River's blog here. This week's words/prompts are: ants, sushi, meeting, miniature, juniper, leaves and/or mushroom, seagull, windy, glass, knit, safe and (above) the image of a dormer window.

Fiction: Storms & Misfortunes
It was death that made Nora Merryweather stopped telling fortunes. When Nora first ascertained she knew things by looking at something as ordinary as a mushroom or a pebble, her aunt, Mary, taught her how to read the world around her. Sometimes knowledge simply entered her mind when she looked at something long enough and other times, she had to wait awhile. Since the age of fourteen, Nora had been telling fortunes by looking at people's belongings but her true talent was knowing when and how someone would die. 
    At eighteen, Nora tried to prevent her aunt's death by keeping her away from water. Instead of drowning trying to save a boy, Mary was crushed by a shopfront sign when she pushed a woman out of the way. The boy she should've saved, died. And the woman who should have died, lived. Fate, it seemed, could not be tricked but could be altered but never to how you wanted – it was a lesson Nora never forgot. Now Nora try to avoid misfortunes that came her way and if someone got saved, it was a happy side effect.
    A few months after her aunt's death, her neighbor, Mrs. Seagull, the woman Mary saved, offered Nora to live at her boarding house rent-free if Nora took care of the housework. Since Nora had nowhere to go after she sold the house to pay for funeral expenses, she accepted Mrs. Seagull's offer.
    Nora had no qualms about living in a boarding house isolated and miles away from civilization. It's why people came for quiet retreats away from the city. Nora didn't mind sleeping in the tiny attic room as she was somewhat miniature, having never grew taller than three feet and eleven inches.
    Not being much of a talker, Nora was a bit annoyed by the boarders' nosiness. If Nora leaves the house unexpectedly, if she misses dinner, if she sidesteps ants, if she avoids sushi, they all wanted to know. Frequently, Nora did the housework without speaking to anyone but she had a meeting or two with the boarders on her way down and up the stairwell but she never say more than necessary.  
    Each day, Nora would peer out the dormer window at the sky and enjoyed the quiet of the early morning. Sometimes, Nora thought life would be peaceful if only she didn't know any misfortunes but then she wouldn't have learned anything without them.

Fiction: A strawberry moon, a fire and a cat

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are supplied by Charlotte and hosted at River's blog here. This week's prompts are cold, door, fire engine, tree, jacket, sign and/or candle, cup, egg, roses, window, hazy. Optional additional prompt is Charlotte's colour of the month Jade Green.

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Fiction: A strawberry moon, a fire and a cat
The fire engine took almost two hours to arrive but Jane Strong didn't fret as she stood outside in the cold. Staying a few feet away, she started to shout the door was unlocked but too late. The firefighters had smashed her front door off its hinges and the three men trampled on it on their way inside with the hose.
    The night air was cool. Jane tucked at the sweater she had hasty put on. It had been a cool June. Most of the townspeople thought Jane had done something to the weather. They believed she was an enchantress. Perhaps it was her use of candles or dressing in black or perhaps owning a black cat. If the wiring in her house didn't often short out, she wouldn't use candles. Dressing in black had been a habit since her teens and why should she change? As for her black cat, she just appeared and made herself at home. Even if none of those reasons existed, the townspeople would find some other reason to believe their own prejudices since they refuse to believe anything she say.
    She looked up at the strawberry moon in the sky. Was it a sign? Henry, her husband, believed in signs and he believed almost everything signified bad luck.
    Her eyes dropped down to the almost petalless pink roses in front of her house. Henry had planted them when they first moved in last year. People thought Jane made the roses grow with her witchcrafts but all she did was took care of them and the apple tree in her backyard. The townspeople often had trouble growing things and they didn't like that Jane could do what they couldn't.
    Someone thrust a paper cup into her hand. There was a boiled egg inside. She glanced up at the middle-age Marvin Hart, the town's newspaper reporter and busybody. "Old Bane said you're welcome to board at his bed and breakfast with a discount," said Hart. Jane wondered why Old Bane would do such a thing when the man was stingy with money. 
    Hart grinned. "Well, I'll be going now. Good evening, Mrs. Strong." Hart tucked his hands into the pockets of his faded leather jacket, made his way to his beat-up, faded jade green truck and drove off into the darkness. She detested the man. When Henry died eleven months ago, Hart interviewed her and then wrote several articles of how she might had poisoned her husband. The townspeople had believed him and avoided her. The three neighbors on the left and right side of her, moved away. Ever since, only her house was occupied in this far part of town. Even when it came out that a brain aneurysm had caused Henry's sudden demise, people still avoided her. Jane had since decided never to speak to Hart nor in front of him. Sometimes she wondered how Hart kept showing up whenever something bad happened, as if he knew they would happen. 
    After the firefighters left without speaking to her but had glanced at her as if she was some strange alien, Jane inspected her house. The lower level had broken windows, smashed objects, messes everywhere and almost everything was soaked. She dropped the paper cup with the egg into the trash bin in the kitchen. She refused to accept anything that man gave her. Upstairs, her bedroom was mostly unaffected though the scent of smoke lingered. 
    "There you are," Jane said, relieved at seeing the black cat lying on her bed but the cat didn't budge. Jane stroked the animal's back and felt no throbbing. The cat wasn't breathing. 
    About three hours ago, when the cat woke Jane after the fire started, Jane had grabbed the sweater hanging on the chair, ran downstairs, called the fire department and ran outside and forgot the cat. She had told the firefighters to look out for the cat but maybe they didn't care to touch her. Most of the townspeople believed black cats were bad luck. 
    Her view became hazy and Jane wiped her tears away. "I'm so sorry, Moody." She brushed her hands over the cat's body. The cat had showed up at her front door ten months ago. Jane had fed her scraps and apple slices thinking she would go away but the cat stayed on. After a time, she allowed the cat inside and started feeding her regularly. The name Moody was stuck in her head and it became the cat's name.
    Moody sprung her eyes opened and meowed. Jane cradled her. "Oh, you silly thing, you scared me."

Fiction: Canoe on the Roof

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are supplied by Hilary Melton-Butcher and posted at River's blog over here. This week's prompts are: baker, canoe, gable, training, rot and/or lily-livered, provisions, barley, arrow, border. Optional prompt: Charlotte's color of the month Razzmatazz.

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Fiction: Canoe on the Roof
Mr. Huckleberry Baker's mind was elsewhere when he climbed the ladder toward the roof of his house. On the front end of his gable roof and sitting on the side of the ridge was a canoe. He hadn't a clue who put it there but he wanted it gone.
    Mr. Baker had little knowledge of roofs so when his left foot sank and created a hole in his roof, he wondered, 'Should it rotted through like that?' It wasn't safe to continue. With his foot bare and a bit tender having to struggle out of the hole, Mr. Baker stood and proceeded back toward the ladder but was hit with dizziness and double vision. He sat down on the ridge and slowly his dizziness faded and his vision cleared. He wasn't lily-livered except when it came to heights which he often forgot about.
    How normal his day had been. This morning, after he ate two toasts with a cup of hot barley tea, he entered his home office and started work. For almost two decades, Mr. Baker wrote manuals for machines and gadgets. He had no training but he knew how things work by studying them. 
    While he was marveling at his masterpiece for a multi-propose blender, the phone rang. Automatically he picked up the receiver and said, "Hello."
    "Hello, Mr. Baker. Do you know you have a canoe on your roof?" Miss Hart was his next door neighbor who was inquisitive about everything.
    Mr. Baker's immediate respond was, 'Do not be ridiculous' but he instead said, "Thank you for letting me know, Miss Hart. I will check it out." He returned to work, had a tuna melt and black coffee for lunch, kept working and didn't remember about it until nearly night. 
    He glanced at the canoe two arms stretch from him. The inside was a pale wood but outside was painted razzmatazz, a word Miss Hart used to describe her favorite bright pink hue. On the side, painted in white was Peace Queen with two, white arrows crossed to make an X between them. Last night, he dreamt about a canoe with those exact words. What did they mean?
    Mr. Baker forgot it all when he tried to get off the roof but as he stood up, dizziness and double vision kept him down. After the fifth try, he gave up. He pictured his funeral with his parents sobbing while beside them his ex-wife laughing and throwing cash into the air. Without changing his will, any provisions he had wanted to make for his parents wouldn't happen if he die today. 
    From up here, he noted all the houses with their lights off. Everyone was probably at the town's ninety-third anniversary party. It must be 7 by now. The party didn't end until after 10. Across from him, the full moon was hanging like a sculpture in the sky. Its beauty made him think of his accumulated ifs and somedays from his forty-three years of living. Why hadn't he taken more chances? Why hadn't he done more? He thought of Miss Hart. Ever since she moved in next door two yeas ago, she had been dropping by or calling to talk about any old thing but he enjoyed her loquacious roaming.
    After a while, Mr. Baker crawled into the canoe. It was a single person vessel with a wooden ottertail paddle. He lifted the paddle and swung it on the right side and then the left. It was almost natural except he had never canoed before. He pictured paddling toward a wide horizon under a bright sky.
    Before he realized, the canoe was shifting and then gliding down the steep roof, past the border of the sculpt hedges that framed his front path and landed on the grassy lawn with him almost spilling out. The paddle had slipped from his hands, slammed against his front windows and put a hole in one of the panes. He patted himself all over and found he was in one piece and chuckled at his good luck.
    "Good evening, Mr. Baker. Isn't it a bit late for a canoe ride?" Miss Hart was staring down at him with a hint of a smile.
    Mr. Baker got out of the canoe with a hand from Miss Hart. "Thank you, Miss Hart. I was just... practicing." He dusted his clothes.
    "Don't you think it's time you call me Betsy?"
    "Betsy, yes. Why don't you call me Berry." He grinned.
    She glanced at the words on the canoe. "Berry, would you believe I used to be known as the Peace Queen?"
    Mr. Baker's grin widened.

Fiction: The Friends Market

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are supplied by jabblog and posted at River's blog over here.  This week's prompts are: hand, useful, panic, horse, shape, sharp and/or nuisance, boredom, quizzical, history, warfare, hair and bonus words notification, money, cotton, spray, clock, mug.

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Fiction: The Friends Market
Wearing her blue with white clouds pajamas under her pink raincoat and pink rainboots, Jacklyn strolled down the aisles of Old Friends Market. She glanced at her wrist watch: 12:01. She had plenty of time. The market didn't close until 3:03 am.
    Two months of leisure wanders around the market had turned into a daily ritual. Each night, she came and even when she was looking for something particular, she found, it didn't matter. Being here was a haven. Always, there was a strange, frantic elation cruising through her just as she stepped inside the market.
    In the spacious store, Jacklyn passed one or two shoppers. Soft music from the speaker weaved through the air. About two feet away, a man with an orange beard lurched toward a giant bag of candles and threw it into his cart already full of bags of cat food. He gave her a nod as he passed her, leaving an odor that reminded her of high school days.
    It was easy to just drop anything she thought useful into her cart but when Jacklyn checked, it was filled with bags of dog food. She did not panic. It was her habit to buy dog food whenever she came to the market. Her dog, Mickey, was a Harlequin Dane. His appetite was as huge as a horse. Sometimes she wondered why she owned a dog bigger than her but when she looked at him, she stopped wondering. Unlike his kind, Mickey embraced boredom so he was never a nuisance. She had no sharp eye for anything but she had always thought Mickey was worthy even if he practically ate through her money. 
    When she was wrong or made a bad choice, Mickey would give her his quizzical look with one eyebrow raised. If she had Mickey before she met Ted, she might not have gotten married. But even if Mickey had given her that look, perhaps she wouldn't have listened as she was too much into Ted back then. Her marriage had been a constant warfare. They were always fighting and unable to agree on anything. After the divorce six years ago, she was hesitant to get a dog due to her history of short-lived pets but once Mickey was in her life, there was no more doubt.
    She picked up a bottle of shampoo, conditioner and hair spray. It was expensive to own a Great Dane so Jacklyn had to sacrifice a few things such as salon visits. It was madness trying to tame her unruly hair that sometimes grew into a giant bubble shape but she persisted.
    Across from Jacklyn, a tiny woman was placing bags of various pet foods into three carts. A few times, she shook or nodded her head as she peered down the floor here and there with quick glances at the giant, analog clock surrounded by a rooster hanging on the back wall.
    Jacklyn looked away. She picked up a box of cotton balls and a bottle of hand lotion and tossed them into her cart. As she near the next aisle, she read the notification about taking your pets for regular checkups at the vet. Four months ago, the vet found a tumor in Mickey's brain. Had they removed it, he would die but if they didn't he would be in pain all his life so she made the decision. When they gave him the injection, Jacklyn was calm but afterward, she destroyed most of her home furniture.
    She turned into another aisle and paused to smile at a coffee mug with the slogan: Every dog deserves his bone. Turning and going into the next aisle, she picked up three cans of coffee beans. The scent of coffee always perked Mickey up. 
    The padding of feet made her look to her left. There was Mickey walking beside her. He had glints in his dark eyes. She glanced at her wrist watch: 1:03. He was on time as usual. When she dropped a box of popcorn into her cart, Mickey gave her his quizzical look. She took it out and put it back onto the shelf. Moving up and down the aisle, she would glance at Mickey before putting an item in her cart. He either gave her his quizzical look or licked his muzzle for approval.
    After she paid, Jacklyn pushed the cart with her bags of purchases toward the exit's double doors which slid open to the pouring rain outside. Mickey followed her but he stopped just before the doors. She turned to face him. This was where she had to leave him each night. Seeing her Mickey again was a joy but she couldn't take him home no matter how much she wanted to. He only existed in the market now. She lingered, rubbing his ears, giving him kisses before heading out. 
    Walking five steps, she paused and turned around. The doors to the market were closed and the lights were out. Jacklyn dried her eyes, glanced at her wrist watch: 3:04. There was always tomorrow night and the next.

Fiction: Memory Bus

The memory bus had a silver and white outer shell and a driver decked out in a crisp, gray uniform and gray cap. After studying the bus for a bit, Vincent got on. His heart was thumping so loud he swore everyone heard it. He pressed his chest and released a short breath.
    Once inside, he was immediately transported into ten-year-old Vincy and sitting beside his mother. Dawn's early light filtered in through the many open windows. A shiver ran up Vincent's body. He noted the watch on his right wrist: 8 am, seven more minutes and the accident would occur.
    Two young boys with black izzards on the front of their hoodies were playing games on their phones. After awhile, they took out staple guns and began shooting at each other, moving around the bus and climbing over seats and people. The other passengers complained for them to stop but they kept on, laughing and shouting, sending nails here and there. Staple nails went here and there but one ricocheted off a metal part of a window and drove into Vincent's mother's head who was asleep. Vincy had pulled his mother to his side but the nail had struck her in the head and killed her instantly.
    When the bus screeched to a halt, the boys with their staple guns fled. Alerted by Vincy's shouts, the few passengers started crowding around Vincy and his mother.
    Vincy was transported back outside and standing in front of the bus. This fifth time made it clear — there was no effective way to get an outcome in which his mother lived. The only sure way was to never let the two picaroons to step inside the bus.
    But Vincent could not change the past and even if he was able to do so, it wouldn't alter anything as the memory bus could only run within and did not affect the outside world.
    Vincent exhaled. He got the proof he needed. Now he could finally let go and move on.

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This month's Words for Wednesday's prompts are provided by messymimi over here. This week's prompts are: shell, deck, chest, proof, dawn, effective and/or brabble (a loud, dumb argument), izzard (the letter z) and picaroon (a scoundrel). 

Fiction: Gaol

Her gaol cell may lacked elegant furnishing, privacy or windows and her shower time may be limited to three minutes per day, it was home to Gin. Should the sea-green wall disturbed her senses or her roommate or other inmates made too much noises, Gin had books to keep them out. It didn't bother her that she was likely to spend her geriatric years inside a cell. She had no dreams nor a bucket list to pin hopes on. She craved only a peaceful existence.
    Every now and then, she would contemplate getting out but dismissed it. She had plenty of time to sit and ponder and read books and though she had some regrets, she was mostly contented. The downside was new inmates often wanted to challenge her. She didn't like the spontaneous trips to the infirmary but she relished fighting with people. Before, she was a pacifist but in here, she lost that peculiarity.
    This morning, when she met the board members, she offered a half-hearted plea to let her out. What was out there for her anyway? More work? More time to enjoy the drudgery of a life ruled by others?
    On some gloomy evenings, she still reminisced about her old life as a bodyguard to powerful beings. But that life was over when she broke a mortal rule – she got involved with a human's life. She was foolish to believe the woman was her friend. On a cold morning, the woman brought her a cup of hot chocolate and Gin drank it without thought. Then she woke up in a deserted place surrounded by a field of cops with guns pointing at her. No matter what she did, she couldn't prove she didn't kill the security guard or the bank manager. The woman had disappeared and couldn't be found. But Gin was at fault for not listening to warnings about that particular human. Why they didn't take away her immortality, she was still baffled but she didn't have to worry about dying but her body aged like any living being, only slower.
    In the afternoon, she was pleased to hear she was staying put for another twenty years. As she turned the pages of a newly borrowed book, she smiled.

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This month's Words for Wednesday's prompts are provided by messymimi over here. This week's prompts are: elegant, limited, spontaneous, bother, list, pin and these phrases (which I didn't use) don’t count your chickens before they hatch; par for the course; a piece of cake. And Charlotte's colour of the month is Sea Green.

Fiction: The Concoction

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are supplied by River over here. This week's prompts are: concoction, premises, smoky, genuine, stronger, grease.

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Fiction: The Concoction
The sky was a smoky haze when Holland was escorted off the premises with her box of meager office belongings. On her way to the bus stop, she paused for the fifth time, put the box on the ground, looked around, sighed and wondered again why she didn't stick around to fight for her job. She reminded herself she was a good person. Leaving a corrupted workplace was the right thing to do. She smiled, picked up the box and was struck by a shopping cart. She went tumbling to the ground.

Fiction: Spirit in the Typewriter

This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are supplied by River over here. This week's prompts are: chips, herd, clamped, walk, over, cheese.

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Fiction: Spirit in the Typewriter
While he was crossing the street, a car slammed into Stanley and left him with a broken leg and some broken fingers. 
    A month later, he resumed his work as a typist. But his fingers clamped up whenever he pressed the typewriter keys. While changing the ribbon, he glanced at the yellow smily sticker on the corner of the typewriter which his wife had stuck there when he first brought it home. She insisted it needed something to cheer him on while he worked. Eight month later, after his writing career failed, she left him for a lawyer. He had tried rubbing it and using solutions but the sticker wouldn't come off.
    He took a break and strolled his neighborhood. But walking with crutches was tiring so he returned home shortly. All three manuscripts had been typed and neatly stacked on his table beside the typewriter. He checked his entire apartment but couldn't figure out how that happened. There was an empty box with Freddy's Pizza Place in his trash but he had not eaten any pizza. But he gave the manuscripts to his clients, got paid and didn't think about it.
    For three months, the manuscripts got done and he never witnessed it. He was sure no one broke into his apartment and he didn't subconsciously typed them. 
    On the fourth month, he stayed by the typewriter with five manuscripts and waited. For two days, he didn't leave the typewriter except to use the bathroom. Then on the third day, he fell asleep and when he woke up in the morning, the five manuscripts were typed and stacked and beside it were an empty box with Freddy's Pizza Place and a coffee mug. 

Fiction: Dreaming of Bowling Under the Sunshine

The train went on a loop and nobody noticed until it went around a fourth time and by then, the fifth loop had started. A scream escaped into the air but no one claimed it. The twenty-something passengers all paused to look at each other as another loop began. 
    A short man ran to one end of the car and a tall man went to the other end but neither were able to open the exit doors. What's even more strange, they were by themselves and not attached to other cars or even the car with the engine that kept the train moving. Everyone stared out the windows at the passing scenery of trees and buildings under the dull winter sun. 
    The passengers' panicky voices rose and fell. In his corner with his shopping cart piled high with stuff, a man wearing many layers of clothing was enjoying a bowl of something soggy soaked in milk. In between bites, he muttered, "Can't stop. Got to keep going til someone makes a wish."
    Just a few feet away, sitting by the window, Jill heard him but she ignored him. She was thinking if she was late to work, she would be fired. But she didn't panic. She was trained by her firefighter grandfather to stay calm during emergencies. If he was here, he would say, "This is a puzzling puzzle. We'll need to figure this out with our brains, not our emotions." 
    It was the wrong morning to stop paying attention to the train. Normally, Jill read her book and trusted the train to get her to her destination. The train had made its usual stops and passengers got on and off but now it was passing all the stops. What are they to do? Back and forth they went on with the loops and nobody had any answers to this strange predicament. So far, Jill counted nineteen loops. She glanced around her. This was no longer the B train - the sign was now a blank orange circle and not only that but all the advertisements all over the car were missing words. 
    The man with the layer clothing was now reading the newspaper. Jill thought to ask him why was he so calm but he would probably answer with something too wild for her to believe. She glanced at her wrist watch: 8:56. She was already late since it took five minutes to walk to the office from the station.
    The train began to speed up. Loop after loop, it went faster. Jill barely felt the velocity and no one tumbled but the scenery through the windows became long blurs. A little boy screamed that he wished to go home. A few people mumbled their assent. 
    The man with the layered clothing put down his papers. He looked around him. "Who else wish to go home?" he said.
    Everyone raised their hands including Jill. But she didn't want to go home and yet, she didn't want to go to work. She wished she could move to an island and bowl under the sunshine. 
    After a few more loops, the train began to slow down and came to a leisure halt. The doors whooshed open. For a moment, no one moved. Then they all rushed out the doors. Two uniform men appeared and directed them from the station while citing that the train was no longer in service.
    Jill got to work ten minutes late but she was just glad she wasn't looping anymore. Was she wrong that the man with the layered clothing had disappeared from the train? She was sure he didn't get out with them.
    In the afternoon, her boss came out of his office and announced the company would be moving to an island and it will occurred in a month. Jill was enjoying the idea of testing the new pins and bowling under the sunshine to worry about getting fired or having her wish come true.

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This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are posted here. This week's prompts are: train, loop, scream, puzzle, bowl.

Fiction: Ghost Aunt

Katie didn't like to clean so she was happy to let Aunt Margo do all the cleaning around her small home. But Margo had no sense of time so she could have the vacuum on at 3 in the morning or 11 at night. But what was worst was, Margo could make things disappear if it didn't please her. Two months ago, Katie's microwave went missing for a week before Margo told her she had given it to Katie's neighbor who needed the appliance since her stove didn't work and she couldn't afford to get it fixed. Katie didn't know how Margo did anything but she always had a good reason so Katie never questioned her actions. Not until Nick.
    Nick, Katie's boyfriend of almost six months, came to her place for dinner. After Katie confessed she wanted to break up with him, he got furious and overthrown the table and then he started pounding on her until she was unconscious. When she woke up, Katie was in the hospital. Her neighbor had called an ambulance. 

Fiction: Postcards from the Afterlife

Dulce Avery was spending too much time at the park, the place he named the long rider, a long stretch of land that took over two hours to walk from start to end. 
    In his forty-six years on earth, Dulce had spent almost all his time in the office and inside stuffy buildings, sitting at meetings and making more plans for more meetings. And now that he is dead, he should be traveling all over the world. But each time he thought to go elsewhere, he came back to the long rider. He preferred being here surrounded by trees, the scent-filled air and the sometimes familiar faces that came and went.
    Not once did he imagine he would get a second chance. His afterlife had certain limits and he couldn't talk to the living but he didn't mind it. He got to do what he never got time for and stay hours lingering at a place or beside someone.
    It was right after his third wife left him that he began to believe in the afterlife. Her death was immediate and sudden and he never got to see her for the last time. But a night after her funeral, he had a dream that she was living her afterlife doing the things she wanted and she assured him she was well. His daughter, Ivy, was only four then and he told her her mother left but she was living her afterlife.