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Dani's Shorts 8+

by

Dani J. Caile

Copyright © Dani J Caile 2020

Smashwords Edition

Dani's Shorts 8+

(A collection of short stories based on the elements from The Iron Writer Facebook page, More Odds and Ends, and other additional short stories)

Volume 8+

by

Dani J Caile

ISBN: 9780463337790

Smashwords version 1.0

Blog: http://danijcaile.blogspot.com/

Copyright © Dani J Caile 2020

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

# Table of Contents

Preface / Acknowledgement 6

Iron Writer Challenge 21 October 2019 7

Iron Writer Challenge 28 October 2019 8

Iron Writer Challenge 4 November 2019 9

Iron Writer Challenge 11 November 2019 10

Iron Writer Challenge 18 November 2019 12

Iron Writer Challenge 25 November 2019 13

Iron Writer Challenge 2 December 2019 14

Iron Writer Challenge 9 December 2019 16

Iron Writer Challenge 16 December 2019 18

Iron Writer Challenge 23 December 2019 20

Iron Writer Challenge 30 December 2019 22

Iron Writer Challenge 6 January 2020 24

Iron Writer Challenge 13 January 2020 25

Iron Writer Challenge 20 January 2020 26

Iron Writer Challenge 27 January 2020 27

Iron Writer Challenge 3 February 2020 29

Iron Writer Challenge 10 February 2020 31

Iron Writer Challenge 17 February 2020 33

Iron Writer Challenge 24 February 2020 35

Iron Writer Challenge 2 March 2020 36

Iron Writer Challenge 9 March 2020 37

Iron Writer Challenge 16 March 2020 38

Iron Writer Challenge 23 March 2020 40

Iron Writer Challenge 30 March 2020 42

Iron Writer Challenge 13 April 2020 45

Iron Writer Challenge 20 April 2020 46

Iron Writer Challenge 4 May 2020 47

Iron Writer Challenge 12 May 2020 48

Iron Writer Challenge 18 May 2020 49

Iron Writer Challenge 25 May 2020 51

Iron Writer Challenge 25 May 2020 (2nd) 52

Iron Writer Challenge 15 June 2020 53

1500 Words (or less), an Iron Writer Spinoff

3 April 2020 55

1500 Words (or less), an Iron Writer Spinoff

19 April 2020 57

More Odds Than Ends 1 January 2020 60

More Odds Than Ends 8 January 2020 62

More Odds Than Ends 15 January 2020 63

More Odds Than Ends 22 January 2020 66

More Odds Than Ends 29 January 2020 67

More Odds Than Ends 5 February 2020 69

More Odds Than Ends 12 February 2020 71

More Odds Than Ends 19 February 2020 73

More Odds Than Ends 26 February 2020 74

More Odds Than Ends 5 March 2020 75

More Odds Than Ends 11 March 2020 76

More Odds Than Ends 18 March 2020 78

More Odds Than Ends 25 March 2020 79

More Odds Than Ends 1 April 2020 81

More Odds Than Ends 8 April 2020 83

More Odds Than Ends 15 April 2020 86

More Odds Than Ends 22 April 2020 88

More Odds Than Ends 29 April 2020 89

More Odds Than Ends 6 May 2020 91

More Odds Than Ends 13 May 2020 92

More Odds Than Ends 20 May 2020 93

More Odds Than Ends 27 May 2020 94

More Odds Than Ends 3 June 2020 96

More Odds Than Ends 10 June 2020 99

In Celebration of Thanksgiving

(First draft 11/11/2015 – latest 05/06/2020) 101

The ''other evidence that does not support

a criminal charge" 29 May 2020 106

Goose 29 January 2020 108

The Book that Can't be Read

3 January 2020 112

List of Elements from Iron Writer Weekly Challenges, 1500 words or less and

More Odds than Ends 120

Biography 127

#  **Preface / Acknowledgement**

A new regime...

I thought I'd finished writing short stories for the Iron Writer group. After the 4th Annual Final, which I happened to win, the Iron Writer Challenge ended and my time was taken elsewhere.

It was late October 2019, about two years after the Challenge had gone, when one of the original Iron Writers, Michael D. Pitman, took up the reins and began posting new elements. There was no challenge or competition, only elements and a deadline. I decided to try once again, though I had no spare time, only a few minutes per week, but that was enough to get my fingers moving. 1500 words (or less) an Iron Writer Spinoff, also reemerged for a short spell from the depths of 2017 and I also tried these.

At the beginning of 2020, I also noticed another prompt-based writers' website appeared called 'More Odds Than Ends' (https://moreoddsthanends.home.blog/) and although I haven't fully become a member of the challenge, every week I copied an unassigned prompt from the site and wrote a little 'scene' or story.

I have also included some short stories written in the same period, including 'A Celebration of Thanksgiving', 'The ''other evidence that does not support a criminal charge"', 'Goose', and 'The Book that Can't be Read'.

I hope you enjoy this collection of new short stories, as this may very well be the last. I'd like to thank Michael D. Pitman for taking up the Iron Writer torch.

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 21 October 2019

Elements – a television, sweater, cookie jar and hand-sewn quilt, and a picture of a man running through shallow water.

Thems people down at Iron Writer Creek are damn right loco. While I was minding me own business the other day, crabbing in ol' Lake Procrastination with me fish 'eads and poultry gizzards, Vance the Nance dressed in nothing but 'is swim' cap, goggles and suit ran straight through the water on the Pitman Pound Sandbar, reaching the other side. Tied to his waist by a ten-foot rope was a twenty-inch tube television wrapped in a hand-sewn quilt and held together by a grey University of Utah sweater.

"What'cha doin' there,ol' buddy?" I asked, pickin' out crabs from me line of 'eads and gizzards.

"Makin' sure I don't get caught with me hand in the cookie jar again!" he replied, and taking a short breather, ran straight back over and left the way he came.

Well, I tell ya, I had a little giggle. 'Cause I know fer sure he ain't been no where near no cookie jar ever!

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 28 October 2019

Elements - a person who realizes they can't do something anymore because of something (age, disability, accident, marriage), an apartment, a motorcycle and newspaper, and a picture of fishing tackle.

Matt closed his newspaper and sat there at the kitchen table in his small, empty apartment looking down at his tackle. After the divorce, there wasn't much he could do with it anymore. No more fish in the sea for him. No more dipping his rod in the convenient warm, wet hole and showing off a floppy whopper. With a long deep sigh, he stood up and reached for his rubbers. At least he could spend his time alone productively. With that, he grabbed his reels, hooks and bait and marched out the door for an afternoon at the lake.

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 4 November 2019

Elements - a person who realizes they can't do something anymore because of something (age, disability, accident, marriage), a china cabinet, screen door and bedroom, and a picture of a woman, sinking in water.

"Hey, sis', you in?" She heard the screen door whip open and slam as Sam her brother walked into the front room. Paralysed, she held the cover over her head, silent, still in bed, lights out in her bedroom. "Mom needs some more plates! Can I take some of yours?"

She wanted to greet him. She wanted to meet him and smile and hug and join them over at Mom's but she couldn't. She could hardly breathe, her anxiety choked the life out of her as though she was drowning, unable and unwilling to surface again.

She heard Sam's footsteps going towards the china cabinet and taking out some plates. "Okay, thanks, sis'! See you later! At two, okay?" The screen door whipped open once again as he left, the slam echoing in the silence.

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 11 November 2019

Elements – a character that gives everyone a nickname, and a couch, back door and magazine, and a picture of a parrot on a perch.

"Come on in, Bud!" Jesse opened the back door and Bud entered the place, dark and dingy, with a hint of stale shit and feathers hitting his nostrils. Bud flung himself on a dusty couch that filled the back room. Jesse's wife Sandra came on through from the kitchen.

"Hi, Bud! How are ya doin'? Nice to meet ya!" she greeted, handing him an open beer.

"Sugar tits! Sugar tits!" came a squawk from the back of the room.

"What the f...?"

"Ah, don't mind 'im, Bud! It's jus' me pet parrot, Marty!"

Bud nodded and drunk some of the cool beer. He'd only been in the town a week and all the folks he'd met so far had been so hospitable. Jesse was one of his workmates down at the factory and he seemed to be friendly enough.

"Marty?"

"Yeah, Marty McFly!" laughed Jesse.

"Jezebel! Jezebel!" squawked Marty. Jesse picked up a magazine from the table in front of the couch and threw it at the bird. Bud heard some flapping of wings.

"That's my nickname," said Jesse. "My wife's..."

"Sugar tits! Sugar tits!" squawked Marty.

"Uh-huh, guessed," said Bud.

"Yeah, he's always giving people nicknames. Doesn't say anything else."

"Well, that's something, ain't it," replied Bud. Jesse pushed a half-empty pizza box off an armchair and offered Bud to sit down. "Quite amusing, really."

"Yeah, until you've heard him a thousand times. He's usually a good judge of character, I don't know how he does it."

They sipped their beer while Jesse turned on the game and Sandra went back to the kitchen to make them some food. They were getting into the game when the bird broke the silence.

"Merchant Banker! Merchant Banker!"

Jesse spat out some beer and laughed. Bud was going to kill that bird.

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 18 November 2019

Elements – someone who lost their job, green army men, a front door, a cellphone, and a picture of a man sleeping in a blanket with a baby sleeping on him.

He turned off his cellphone after receiving the three hundred and ninety-ninth message saying he was fired. Trust him to do something stupid and lose his job just before Christmas. And with a baby to care for, too. His wife hadn't heard the news yet, but he knew she wouldn't be pleased. After spending the last week in the bar hiding from his workplace and dreading the moment when his boss would find out that he'd messed up the order of 10,000 crates of green army men for the Louisville depot, he was now cradling his newborn son in his arms, trying to get him to sleep. He was sure his son had no problems sleeping, it was just him. He laid down on the couch with him, wrapped in a blanket and closed his eyes. His son fell asleep instantly. Just then, the front door opened.

"Hubby, I'm home!"

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 25 November 2019

Elements – someone who tries too hard to fit in, a school bus, a baseball hat, a sweat shirt, and a picture of a man, a woman and a pug sitting on a sofa drinking coffee.

**When she first met Jason on the school bus, with his Minnesota Vikings sweatshirt and navy Yankees baseball cap, she thought he was so cool. But now, ten years down the line, with his peanut-coloured suede retro combat boots, navy skinny-fit jeans, padded body warmer, trimmed beard and flipped left over haircut, he was nothing but a ponce, through and through.**

**For years she'd tried so hard to fit in with him and his friends, and tonight, even wearing a tawny loop scarf with matching wrap over her black fake-leather jacket and blue stretch jeans, she felt like an M &M in a pack of Maltesers, a colourful, hard candy amongst the chocolate covered buttons with soft centres.**

**"What is that smell?" asked one of Jason's effeminate friends drinking a Starbucks takeaway Americano. She felt a wet patch on her jeans. Juju, Jason's arrogant-looking bitch of a Pug had peed on her again. They all laughed as they realised what had happened. She took her Keith Brymer large white mug filled with a Starbucks Reserve Latte and poured it over Juju's head.**

**"F*#k this for a game of soldiers," she said, and left Jason and his friends with goldfish mouths agasp.**

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**Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 2 December 2019

Elements – a professor (any type of professor), a pair of pants, a rock, a bow tie and a picture of a child colouring in Christmas pictures.

**Oh, what he wouldn't do for a normal pair of pants! Preferably briefs, of course. This diaper was irritating his legs and causing a rash. Also, it was full. Couldn't the kindergarten teacher smell him? Probably not. If his senses were correct, the cross-eyed Asian kid in the corner playing with the wooden building blocks and the lice-ridden girl with her hands covered in red paint had also excreted.**

**I myself had found some printed Christmas colouring-in sheets and was trying to catch the attention of said kindergarten teacher with such cognitive activities well beyond the usual creative development of an eighteen month child. Manipulating my fingers had taken some time as they were not used to such motor-dynamic skills and I had already, much to my disappointment, gone over the lines three times. Still, it was better than my mistake yesterday, which I am hastened to say that I think I may have the solution to now. Though how I am meant to get back to the faculty and correct the equation in the main system in beyond me. I fear the porter would not allow a small child such as myself, especially with curly ginger locks and a red bow tie to match, to enter the university grounds anyway. Perhaps if I wrapped a note around a rock and threw it through Walton's window, maybe that would alert him to the predicament at which I seem to be in.**

**"Oh dear, I think we've had a little accident, haven't we, darling?"**

**What? We? Accident? I have discharged my personal waste into a diaper. And who are you calling 'darling'?**

**"We'll have to go and sort that out, then, won't we?"**

**I'm telling you now, madam, no one, but no one is going to touch my... ahhh, that's better...**

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 9 December 2019

Elements – someone who hits the lottery, a burned down home, a hat, a wing-back chair and a picture of a girl who trying to gain attention.

**Daphne, gold digger extraordinaire, spotted him from two hundred yards. Perched on a high chair at the edge of the casino bar was a half-drunk out-of-towner in a suit fit for someone at least three times more sophisticated than he could ever be, holding a half-emptied beer glass and an old worn cowboy hat hiding his receding hairline. Easy pickings. She sat down in a brown wing-back chair in the lounge within earshot. The bartender moved over to the man.**

**"So, what brings you to town, sir? You're not from round here?"**

**"My name's Tom." He took another gulp of the cool beer. "Nah. I got myself some down right luck, so I thought I'd come down here, see how people live in the big ol' city."**

**"Some luck, you say? You'll sure need it here," laughed the bartender. He spotted Daphne and gave her a nod.**

**"Yep, sure do, sure do." He finished his beer and passed it over. "Fill her up again." So the bartender did. "Yep, I done won the state lottery so I thought I'd come and enjoy myself a touch."**

**"Well, this is the place for it!" The bartender shared a laugh and winked over at Daphne. She was already on her way over.**

**"Yep. Soon as I knew I'd won, I felt free, so free. Free from my debts to this world, free to do as I please. I left half of my winnings at my grandkid's place, then burned my own house down, didn't even bother t'wake the missus. Went over to Jake Gether's place and shot him dead, the ol' son of a bitch deserved it, had it coming, and I buried him in his own manure! Good riddance, I say! Then I got in my pickup and came here. I'm looking to whip up some hell tonight!" He took out his six-shooter and shot up the ceiling. The people around him, both men and women, screamed and hollered, scattering in all directions. He spotted Daphne. "But now I'm gonna get me a whore who'll do my pleasing." He grabbed Daphne by the hair and proceeded towards the hotel area. Daphne let out a scream. This was not working out how she'd first planned. She looked over at the bartender but he was gone. "Come on girl! Let's go have some fun!" Her high heels dragged on the soft, red shag carpet.**

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 16 December 2019

Elements – someone with a disability (physical or developmental), an earthquake, a blanket, a train and a picture of a guy standing on a metro platform.

Tom stood on the platform waiting for the metro to arrive, pruning his hair and checking his look in his phone. Three minutes and counting. The place was almost empty except for a few late nighters trying to get out of the city centre. He walked around his spot and watched as the lift door opened and out came a wheelchair, the legs of its owner wrapped up with an old beaten colourless tartan blanket. The guy looked like he needed a wash with his greasy messed up hair and dark straggly beard, not to mention the stained gray sweatshirt with UCLA written on it, probably some bogus university copy. How could anyone let themselves go like that? Tom was a little disgusted as the wheelchair guy squeaked past him and took a place on the line. His wheels kept going over it and the loudspeaker warned him several times with its automated message. Tom moved away so as not to get caught up in any trouble. Looking up at the clock it said five minutes. Not strange for this time of night but definitely irritating.

While switching his weight over to his left to start walking to the other side of the platform, thew whole world shook, the ground beneath him gave way, the ceiling began to collapse and a roar of breaking concrete and straining steel filled his ears. The lights went out and Tom's world turned over. Something massive grazed his head and he blacked out.

Coughing, he came to. His head felt it was blowing up like a balloon. But worse, he couldn't feel anything else. His body, his arms, his legs. In the silence he screamed. He heard something crawling over to where he was and suddenly a light came on, shining in his eyes. Looking past the torch, he could see the face of the wheelchair guy.

"Hey bud! You're alive! Oh Christ."

"Wha... what?" asked Tom.

"Alright bud, just hold on in there, you're going to be okay."

"Wha... I... I can't feel my legs...or... or my arms..." Tom started to panic.

"You'll be okay, honest. You're alive, that's all that matters."

"But, but... my legs...?"

"Hey, don't worry about your legs. Look at me, I'm doing fine without them... oh, sorry."

"What?"

"Look, bud. Just hand in there, okay."

The implications of what the guy was saying started to dawn on Tom.

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 23 December 2019

Elements – a woman who's leaving (could be someone, somewhere, something, etc), a folding chair, a van, a convertible, and a picture of a boy giving something to a soldier in the desert.

"Area secure," reported Darcy.

"Roger that. Extraction in ten."

Darcy and Vance stood in the street, weapons at rest after a hot morning clearing the area. Intelligence said there was a small pocket of resistance somewhere in the village, but there was no one there except for a few old women and children in the derelict houses and shelters. At the end of the street looking out to the harsh desert was a wreck of a van. A woman all wrapped up in the local garments left its shadows and walked away. Two boys came out and both sat on a half-bust folding chair under the makeshift shade hanging over the open side of the van. Its side had been blown off by some mortar round.

"A 2000 GMC Safari. My dumbass cousin had one of those," said Vance.

"Yeah?" muttered Darcy.

"Yeah. Turned it into a convertible. Took the top off, looked like a real mess."

"I guess it would."

They moved closer to the van. Darcy had some chocolate bars in his pocket and motioned to the boys to come and get them. The smallest ran over and grabbed them, taking them back to his brother. They disappeared into the van.

"Chocolate. That's all we can give them after taking their life away," remarked Vance.

"What else can we do?" asked Darcy.

"Leave?"

The two boys ran back over to Darcy and handed him a red ball.

"Hey! They wanna play!" laughed Darcy. The two boys ran away, past the van and across the dunes. "Go long!" shouted Darcy and he set up his throw.

The blast blew off Darcy's arm and Vance was hit by the nails stuffed inside the red ball not covered by Darcy's hand. Both soldiers lay bleeding until their extraction team reached them.

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 30 December 2019

Elements – a woman or man scorned, a dining room, a trophy, a sleeping bag, and a picture of yellow taxis in a big city.

"I've had enough of all your drinking and gambling and running around the place after every bit of skirt that so much as gives you a passing glance! This is it, Jeff! You can get out of my life!"screamed Daphne, her knuckles going white as she gripped the back of the chair, her teeth gnawling as spit drooled onto the dining room table. She was mad.

"But...but..." Jeff clicked into a one-liner." But I love you, Daphne! And... and you love me. Don't you? You... you can't kick me out my own flat, our flat. Can you?" He went for the soft baby eyes. Double the impact.

"Don't you 'I love you, you love me' crap! Get out!" She came around the table and forcefully pushed him towards the door. He tried to make light work of her, even attempting a tickle, but she wasn't having it, stamping her heel into his toes on his right foot.

"Ow!" He stood there, holding his foot. Maybe a little pause would work.

"Get out!" Daphne shouted. She took his bowling trophy off the fake mantelpiece and threw it at him. The 'thonk' on his head reverberated around the flat. She laughed while Jeff's head spun. Maybe this wasn't a good time to tell her about the loan shark...

"I said get out!" She started pushing him again.

"But where am I going to go?" The next thing that hit him was his blue sleeping bag from his hunting trips. Daphne whizzed by him, opened the front door and shoved him out. In one second he was looking at the black outside of the flat's door. For a moment he waited there, listening, wondering what his next step should be. No sound, no movement.

After two minutes, he turned around and went out to the street. He stood on the kerb in the busy city street and watched the people of the night doing their business. He ran back inside and knocked on the flat's door. A shout came from inside.

"What?!"

"You... you don't happen to have enough for a cab ride, do you? The street's aren't so safe at night and..." The scream lasted at least a full minute and the neighbours popped their heads out to check. Jeff smiled and reassured them everything was fine without saying a word. "I guess that's a 'no'?" he asked. The silence was deafening.

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 6 January 2020

Elements – a homeless person, a restaurant, a house, a pickup truck and a picture of a kitten.

The rain had stopped and the man, homeless, without a penny to his name, sat on the side of the road, not caring about the traffic rushing past only a few inches away from his dripping nose.

"Oh, how can I go on? I have suffered so much. I once had a house, a wife, and a child. We were happy. I ran a restaurant which looked like it was going places, and then that blasted Chinese Takeaway opened up across the road. Oh, I lost everything!" He held his head in his hands, ignoring the pickup truck gunning it past him, taking off the holey bobble hat he'd found a few weeks ago in a rubbish bin. Something flew from the bed of the truck and fell into the hedge bordering the road. It wasn't until he heard the tiny meowing sound that he grew any interest. He moved over to the sound and peeped into the greenery.

"Meow!"

"Ah, little one! Look at you! Where did you come from?" He grabbed the kitten with both hands and brought it out into the open. The kitten immediately attacked him and scratched out his eyes. "Ah! Goddamn animal! How can this get any worse!?" He dropped the vicious ball of fluff and it scurried away into the undergrowth. With blood bleeding from his eyes and his hands over his face he took one step forward and was instantly hit by a passing white van, sending him spinning across the road.

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**Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 13 January 2020

Elements – a petty thief, a flat tyre, a baseball hat, chicken noodle soup and a picture of a woman looking out of an open French window wearing only a shirt.

# It started with a flat tyre. First he saw the peach in jeans bent over next to her car as he drove by. Then he saw the shiny mass of blonde hair falling over her face as she took off her baseball cap. After helping with the flat, they got to talking and he found himself sharing some banter and chicken noodle soup at the nearby roadside cafe. It was only a hop, skip and jump back to his place and some fine time on a warm sunny afternoon. He got to admire that peach afterwards as she stood at the open French windows with the sun beaming through, wearing nothing but his shirt. With that image in his mind, he slept until night, waking to an empty house and an empty safe, empty of all his savings, precious stones and Treasury bonds. She was nothing but a petty thief.

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 20 January 2020

Elements – an MMA or boxer (active, retired, has-been, wannabe, never-was.etc.), money, music, a love interest and a picture of a man doing pushups with dumbells.

Dave "Deckchair" Wilson woke up on the mat with the crowd around him, raising their fists and screaming - 'least that's what his eyes told him 'cause he couldn't hear a thing. They looked angry. For Dave, lying for the count was the norm - that's how he got his nickname, for resting - but he knew exactly why they were angry this time. He'd been put up against one of the worst MMA fighters in the Federation and was expected to win easily. Unfortunately for all watching, and betting, he'd taken a rather large bung to take the fall in the first round. Buddy "No Friends" Johnson, the notorious Naperville southside promoter, and his entourage, had interrupted Dave's pushups training - with dumbells - the other day to tell him the good news, and he was so happy 'cause he needed that money to sweeten a certain ol' love interest in town... music slowly drifted into his head, the theme music of his opponent. Looking across the mat, he saw the man jumping to the beat, happy he'd won. Focusing just outside the enclosure, Dave saw Buddy "No Friends" walking past the angry audience - Buddy gave him the wink. Good times were coming tonight!

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 27 January 2020

Elements – a firefighter, a coffee cup, a chest of drawers, a small city and a picture of a swan in water.

Firefighter Jack dropped his cup of coffee as the the alarm rang, causing thirty seconds of mayhem in the station as both himself and his fellows geared up, ready for action and bundled into the fire truck as it rolled out into the street, its destination trouble.

"Yeah! Let's go!" He shouted, chest bumping his comrade as he took a seat in the moving vehicle. Jack was psyched up, ready to go, ready to battle whatever might come his way, be it fire, blaze or inferno.

As the truck whizzed through the half-busy streets of the small city of Lansing, Michigan with its sirens screaming, Jack looked out over the Red Cedar and saw swans bobbing on the water by the riverbank, unaware of the dangers Jack and his brave colleagues were rushing to. He savoured the view as it may be his last peace on this earth.

Turning left and right, they halted in a quiet cul-de-sac and biled out of the truck, the siren silent but the light still spinning.

"Where's the fire?" screamed Jack, holding his axe, ready to bust down a door to save those trapped inside.

"Inside!" shouted the captain, and they all ran inside the nearest house, following his voice as they all ran up the stairs.

"Where's the fire?" screamed Jack once more. Him and his fellow mates looked around confused, one with his mask tied to his face, ready against any smoke. Their captain appeared from a room on the balcony and beckoned them all in. The whole squad squeezed into the room and looked around.

An overweight man had his foot caught in a chest of drawers, more precisely in his daughter's underwear drawer. It took four of them to lift him while two more ripped the drawer from his foot.

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 3 February 2020

Elements – a cat who ran away from home, a sweatshirt, a chair, a medium-sized city, and a picture of a woman half inside a washing machine in a launderette.

"Excuse me, miss? What are you doing?" asked Damien, standing next to the washing machines. He'd nodded off for a while in the back of the laundrette until a customer nudged him awake while pointing to the woman halfway inside one of the machines. She'd placed a chair in front so that she could climb inside the drum. "Miss?"

"Shhh, almost got him," said the echoing voice of the woman.

"Almost got who?" asked Damien. Some customers picked up their laundry and left for the door.

"Smokey."

"I'm sorry? Who?" Damien admired the woman's behind as there was nothing else to do in this damn city.

"Smokey. My cat. I thought he'd run away from home a week ago but actually...." She reached further in. "...he was in my laundry."

"Really?"

"Got him!" The woman struggled to get herself out of the drum, almost losing her top in the process, showing more than she should.

"Oh." She looked at the bundle in her hands. "It's just my sweatshirt. That means..."

"...Smokey did run away from home," finished Damien. The woman started to cry and wrapped her arms around Damien. He hugged her back in sympathy. Tuesday was a good day.

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 10 February 2020

Elements – someone scorned, ubiquity (or the idea of it), an economic recession, and social media that a picture of a list of exchanging sorry phrases for thank you.

"I'm sorry, I am not getting into that car!" Susan crossed her arms, stamped her feet, and refused to sit into the Prius. "And where's the 'sorry I'm late'?"

"Don't you mean, 'thank you for coming to pick me up'?" asked Daphne, upset with her friend's continuously poor behaviour.

"Thank you for coming to pick me up in... in this! Oh, how common. This car is so... so... ubiquitous! How could you? Me? In this car?"

"There's an economic recession. Jump in, it's only for a few minutes," said Daphne, opening the door.

"And then what? People will see me in this! They will see me get out of this! I refuse! How dare you come and pick me up in this!"

"Scorn me all you will, but I don't see anyone else giving you a lift there at this time of night. Call a taxi, an Uber. There isn't one available, mark my words."

There was a ten-minute pause as Susan did just that: she got on her phone right away, but Daphne's words were true. With a huff, Susan got in the car and they drove off to the party. A huge crowd of friends were already having a good time on the front lawn of whoever's house they'd decided to crash. Some of them, including Simon, Susan's crush, ran to the car as it pulled up. Susan cringed in the passenger seat.

"Wow, a... Prius?" laughed Simon. Susan sank lower into her seat.

"Yes, well..." started Daphne as Susan and herself got out.

"Cool, wow, so cool," remarked Simon. The friends who'd followed him nodded in agreement.

"Yes! I thought so too!" screamed Susan, running over to Simon and instantly wrapped her arm around his shoulder and took a selfie for Instagram with him and the car.

back to ToC

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 17 February 2020

Elements – a former athlete, a helicopter, poker, the term "piss and vinegar" and a picture of two dogs and their owner in a convertible.

# "This is a tale of a dog."

# "Don't you mean a dog's tale?" said Boxy. They laughed while whacking their tails against the smooth leather upholstery of the black Lincoln Continental. Ruff and Boxy laughed so hard, they caused their owner, the infamous Chicago Bears' linebacker from the 60s, Terence Crawly, to give them both a good smack across the jowls.

# "Shiiiit, who the hell does he think he is?" growled Ruff.

# "Our owner who's so kind as to take us with him for his Tuesday night poker game over at Big Alf's," replied Boxy, the younger of the two Wirehaired Pointer Griffons.

# "You know, I may be getting on in dog years but I've still got some piss and vinegar!"

# "Yep, you sure do, ol' pal. More piss than vinegar, I see. 'Specially from that yellow patch on the carpet. Couldn't you have waited?"

# "It was that helicopter that flew over. Took me by surprise!" They both looked forward as their owner screamed and hollered at some traffic violation by another driver. His hands flew around with his voice, but once that subsided, so did his hands. He took a brief glimpse into the back and shouted again, spotting Ruff's stain and swerving the car into the side of an overtaking pickup truck. The dogs watched in their owner's now parked car at the side of the road as the argument between drivers heated up.

# "Look who's in the doghouse later," laughed Boxy.

"Oh, shut up you," moaned Ruff.

back to ToC

#

# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 24 February 2020

Elements – a criminal, a country of your choice, a river, pretzels, and a picture of a woman reading a book blindfolded.

She was sitting in a chair by the river in a country of her own choice, eating pretzels from a bowl with one hand while holding an open book in the other in front of her face. A blindfold around her head completed the ensemble.

What are you reading I asked and she said 'The Face of a Stranger' by Anne Perry, and flipped another page forward with a finger before taking another pretzel.

But why are you blindfolded, my dear I asked and she replied that we shouldn't let other people's words blind us from our own behaviour.

And I thought this was a misconception, an untruth, a lie.

But why do you read if you cannot see I asked and she stopped and slowly lowered the book, still open at a page and said a blind person who sees is better than a seeing person who is blind.

back to ToC

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 2 March 2020

Elements – a serial killer (as a main character), a big city, a sleeping bag, depression, and a picture of a woman sitting on a wall looking at a far away city.

"What ya doing?" asked John. He'd been watching her for a while now as she sat on the wall overlooking the big city. This could be his number thirteen, unlucky for some. She matched all his essentials on the checklist, young, slim, long blonde hair and pretty... pretty was the cherry on the top, the prettier the better. He felt his blood begin to boil.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"I...I come here quite often, you know, but I've never seen you before." He kept his distance so as not to frighten her away. One strike and away was better than creepily stalking her for a few hours and then taking a chance further down the hill in the dark.

"Oh." She shrugged. "I thought I'd come up on the wall and look at the city." She didn't know how true that was, thought John. "I'm a little down right now, the doc says I have depression so I'm going to see my sister in the country for a while. She's got a small place of her own above a delicatessen." She showed her backpack and belongings, including a sleeping bag.

"Oh, right. Yes, city life can kinda knock it out of you. It's tough in the 'jungle'." He laughed, making her give a polite smile. She looked back to the city. John gave a quick look around, all was quiet. They were alone. He turned back to her, knife at the ready, only to see the barrel of a gun.

back to ToC

# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 9 March 2020

Elements – a CEO, a helmet, a small town / community, poverty and a picture of two smiling and wet Asian girls sitting in a puddle in the rain under a large leaf held by the eldest.

# Finally, after all this time he'd found it. As CEO he'd achieved financial security and all that goes with it: the big house, fancy car, mail order wife and matching kids, but there was always something missing, something he couldn't touch, hold, feel. He'd taken a hiatus and left. That was three months ago. Now somewhere in Thailand, on a mud road in the pouring monsoon rain near a small, poverty-stricken community of huts, he'd seen it. Felt it.

# He switched off the engine of the hire scooter and took off his helmet to get a better view. Not twenty feet away were two young Asian girls, squatting in a puddle, completely saturated, smiling, with the elder holding a large green leaf over the both of them. Here was the essence, the 'something' which he was missing. He sat there gazing on, with his receding hairline getting wet, and sighed.

#

#

back to ToC

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#

# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 16 March 2020

Elements – a cop, a president of a club and a school principal, who are all in an escape room, and a picture of an empty, derelict warehouse.

"My word! What is this?" Thomkins, the school principal was the first of the two to wake up. He found himself seated and tied to chair opposite his old friend Rumphus, the president of the local golf club. His exclamation woke the poor fellow up.

"Eh? What? What in blazes?"

They both looked around and saw they were locked in a small, dark room with many artefacts hanging from the walls and ceiling.

"If I were to make a guess, I'd say we were stuck in an escape room," said Thomkins.

"Yes, old friend, but why? I can't remember a single thing after,,, after the double whiskey down at the 19th," replied Rumphus.

"Yes, I was also taking a spot of the ol' gin after a hard day of warming my toasties on a hot fire, so to speak," said Thomkins. "But I have absolutely no recollection...I say!"

A man appeared from the shadows, dressed in a suit and tie, though not of the best quality.

"You sir! What is the meaning of this?" shouted Rumphus. The man laughed.

"The meaning? Why, I'm sure between the both of you, you can work that out." The man's face came out from the shadows and they instantly recognised him - Detective Shufflecott.

"Why, Shufflecott, what do you mean by keeping us like this? Let us go this instant!" shouted Thomkins.

"No can do," said Shufflecott. "Not until you confess your heinous crimes of bribery and corruption."

They both became quiet.

"Of course, I could always add some other charges, like sexual harrassment at the golf club, or maybe afternoons with the Prefects in your study..." Thomkins was the first to break. He gestured Shufflecott closer.

"Oh, you bounder, you!" shouted Rumphus to Thomkins.

Shufflecott put his ear to Thomkins' whispering mouth, only for Thomkins to headbutt him and send him unconscious to the floor. They both headed for the door, jumping their chairs across the floorboards. Thomkins lifted his legs and bashed the door lock wide open.

"Twenty years in the thick of the rugby scrum always comes in handy," chuckled Thomkins. Still seated and tied, they shuffled their chairs out of the now open door and were blinded by the light for a moment. Once their eyes were acclimatised, they noticed they were in an empty, derelict warehouse.

"Now what?" asked Rumphus. "I'm meant to be in a meeting at five."

#

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back to ToC

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 23 March 2020

Elements – a goldfish, a cat who ran away from home, a teacher, an ubiquitous object, and a picture of three apples on 4 school diaries with chalk and a pair of scissors on a teacher's desk.

"You're so... so... ubiquitous!" bellowed the goldfish, swimming away from the cat's image reflected on the side of his tank.

"Ubiqui what?" He placed his paw close to the surface of the water and gave a quick jab. Still very wet.

"You're always there!" The goldfish hid next to the plastic diver and treasure chest filling the water with oxygen with a continuous flow of bubbles from a pump.

"Oh come on, I've only been here since my owner started staying at home. Thought I'd come to her workplace, see what the fuss was about. And I found you!" The cat smiled and licked his lips.

"Oh, go back home! Leave me in peace!" Another jab from the cat made the goldfish dash over to the fake seaweed.

On the teacher's desk was a pile of books, possibly student reading diaries, with three red apples sitting atop. Broken chalk lay on the desk, with a pair of scissors carelessly flung against the diaries, all left at the last moment when the school had to be closed and quarantine had started.

"Maybe later, but first a cat must have his game." Placing his shoulder on the tank, he pushed it sideways and it moved to the edge of the shelf.

"What! Don't you dare!" screamed the goldfish.

"Don't I dare what? Oh, this?" He used his weight to begin pushing the tank off the shelf, five feet from the tiled floor.

"Teacher! teacher!" shouted the goldfish.

"She can't help you now..."

back to ToC

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 30 March 2020

Elements – a deck of cards, the phrase "since Moby Dick was a minnow," a burrito, a serial killer (as a minor character), and a picture of glass broken by a bullet or small stone.

"I've been playing this game since Moby Dick was a minnow, and I know I'm right!" Jeff slammed his hand down on the small round rickety table, face down, of course, narrowly missing his half-eaten burrito. The rest of the deck dispersed across the worn surface.

Kenny didn't move. All those years in the psycho ward under lock and key for those murders no one really knows if he committed had hardened him up. His nickname was Serial Killer Kenny and he always gave a littl' chuckle to that.

I, however, spilled my evening cocoa all over my favourite pair of pyjamas. "Jeff, look what you gone an' done now!" We stood there, both shaking in anger - or was it our knees going, whichever – waiting for the other to make their move. Jeff went first, reaching down in his pants for his BB gun. I grabbed behind me and way down in my briefs for my catapult, which had slipped down. I grabbed something which wasn't my catapult. Kenny noticed.

"That ain't been yanked in a while," he laughed.

"Shut up, you!"

Jeff shot with his BB gun, missing my ear by at least six inches and hitting the picture of Mrs Hottier on the mantlepiece, god rest her soul. I finally got out my catapult and loaded it, pulling back the elastic. The stone whizzed by Jeff and went straight through the window.

"What in darnation was that?!" screamed the care nurse. Jeff and Kenny pointed at me.

'Second' version

13 May 2020

The Simmons public library was a melting pot of the haves and have-nots, a mixture of homeless people and the wealthy older residents of the nearby neighborhood. However, although both parties sat on either side of the socioeconomic spectrum of the local community, many shared a common interest in the aesthetic with weekly book clubs and social gatherings including games and cards nights and lectures from local writers and celebrities alike. It was on one of those particular cards nights that things started to get a little hairy.

"I've been playing this game since Moby Dick was a minnow, and I know I'm right!" said Spencer, retired accountant and beloved member of the First Baptist Community church. He slammed his card hand down on the small round rickety table, face down, of course, narrowly missing his half-eaten burrito, smuggled in by Mrs. Cutherfield of Heather Way. The rest of the deck dispersed across the worn surface as he looked over at the two remaining players. The others had already left for some hot cocoa between the Language and Social Sciences sections.

Ken didn't move. All those years sleeping in the gutter, with that one visit to the police cells and psycho ward under lock and key for being under suspicion for those missing people some years back had hardened him up. His nickname on the street was Serial Killer Ken and he always gave a little chuckle at that.

I, however, spilled my evening cocoa, which Mrs Heatherwaite had so kindly brought over, on my favourite pair of corduroy pants. "Spencer, look what you gone and done now!" We stood there, both shaking in anger - or was it our knees and joints going, whichever – waiting for the other to make their move. My heart was pumping out of my chest, I couldn't think straight. Spencer went first, reaching down for his walking stick. I rammed my hand into my pocket for something, maybe my pocket knife, just to defend myself. I wasn't going to hurt anyone, how could you with a two-inch blunt blade that couldn't even sharpen a pencil. There must've been a hole and I grabbed something which wasn't my knife. Kenny noticed.

"That ain't been yanked in a while," he laughed.

"Shut up, you!" I said, still searching for my knife.

Spencer swished his stick my way and I ducked, causing one of my discs to go and I stood there motionless, bend over the table. Unfortunately, Spencer's stick had found a target, Miss Brown, the librarian, catching her on the right boob. Luckily she always wore thick jumpers.

"Mr Reynolds! Kindly take your ferocity elsewhere, we will have none of that here!" She placed the small pile of books she was holding on the table and stood there in defiance, hands on hips. "What next? S & M?"

"Yes, please," came the little voice of widow Mrs Jenkins, aged ninety-six, sitting in the Art and Recreation section.

back to ToC

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 13 April 2020

Elements – a dog urinating on a fire hydrant, a cat who ran away from home, a loved one (non-related), a high school principal, and a picture of a woman stretching out her arms on the beach as the sun goes down.

"Oh, to be free, free from the tyranny!" Daphne skipped across the sand, her arms in the air feeling the breeze as the waves lightly wet the shore with the tide slowly coming in. She felt like a cat running away from home, off to find her next adventure. She'd left her lover on the day of graduation, her high school principal, Dave, taken her diploma and took his Ferrari to the coast. She'd deserved it, loving the man as best she could until she had what she needed, the piece of paper which would lead her onwards to a better life. 'Tit for tat', as her father had said before leaving her mother. And she'd learnt so well from his example. To get you must give. Dave got what he wanted, for a time, and she got what she needed.

She watched as a stray dog urinated on a fire hydrant in front of the Ferrari. A policeman drove by and stopped, walked over and proceeded to put a ticket on the fancy red car. It wasn't her car, it had nothing to do with her. Dave would pay the fine. Shrugging, she continued skipping along in the sand.

back to ToC

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 20 April 2020

Elements – solitude, a video chat, an airport/airplane, a song you can't get out of your head, and a picture of a man wearing a hat and jacket, and smoking a cigarette.

# He stood in the airport with only his hat, jacket, a cigarette lit in his mouth, and nothing more. There was no one about. No one. The place was empty. Such a huge empty place. A place used to hustle and bustle, voices and noise. What was that song in his head? The lyrics... "without saying goodbye, without saying goodbye...". It ran around his head in a continuous loop, filling his solitude...

# His phone beeped and he took it out of his jacket pocket. She was calling. A video chat of all things. He closed his phone and walked away....

back to ToC

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# 

# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 4 May 2020

Elements – a small alpha dog, adult children, a birthday party and a picture of an unfinished road with a 'road closed' sign.

They stood there with the 'road closed' sign blocking their way and the view of a road unfinished before them. In the distance were construction diggers and piles of sand. Ralph, their husky puppy, pulled on his lead and made choking sounds as he desperately tried to move forwards.

"I don't understand," said Bob in his deepest adult-like voice. "The invitation card definitely says the birthday party is down this road, at number forty-two." He tightened his cardigan and done up the last button, hiding his lapels of his tweed jacket beneath.

"Me neither," said Helen, pushing up her empty bra half-hidden in the suave five-sizes-too-large evening dress gown she'd borrowed from her mother. The fake fur shoulder wrap saved her from the cool night air. "Should we go back?" A night stroll, alone with Bob in his wonderful suit... ,maybe they would hold hands like real adults. Ralph howled and pulled again, wanting to go on ahead.

"Oh, he's such an alpha, is Ralph. And he's only a puppy." Bob gave in to his dog and moved past the sign, walking towards the roadworks.

"But Bob...?"

"It's on the invitation, it must be right!"

Helen sighed and followed Bob.

back to ToC

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 12 May 2020

Elements – a mysterious video message (either on phone or via email), a scorned lover, an empty park at night, and a picture of a boy looking through a hole from inside something.

Cold and afraid, Teddy shivered in the half-empty tool shed of the local park's curator, peeping out of some rusty hole. His girlfriend Mary, probably soon to be ex-girlfriend, was marching around the estate nearby, looking for him. She was so pissed. Teddy had no idea who'd sent her that bloody video message showing him kissing Angie behind the bike racks at school, but if he ever found out who it was, he was gonna kill them. It was probably that bastard Dave, he'd always had it in for him and Mary. Now he'd have to stay here all night.

back to ToC

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 18 May 2020

Elements – Write about how the sun rose in the west and set in the east one day, which causes a huge problem among the animals on the planet -- including some humans, and a picture of wind blowing in from the sea on a large beach.

The first inkling I had that someone was wrong was when the wind suddenly stopped as I was sitting in my deckchair in the sand reading Dan Brown's latest trash and began to blow across the beach incompletely the opposite direction. Although at the time I thought it was a trick of the fading light, the tide had also changed, with the water now moving up the beach rather than down. Thinking I had the times wrong, I packed up and went home, ready for another day. If I had only looked back, I would have noticed the moon stalling in the sky, its trajectory beginning to traverse the path it had just left.

The next morning I was greeted with blackness and silence. There was no morning sun streaking through my window, no blackbirds singing their usual song. I looked at my alarm clock, but it wasn't on. There must've been a power cut, so I begrudgingly got out of bed and stood up. I felt a little dizzy, as though something had messed with my head, but I shock the feeling off and went downstairs to the kitchen.

As I slowly walked down the stairs, I spotted the sun's rays shining through from the living room, something which happened later on in the day. I must have slept the whole day! How silly of me! It was strange, I didn't feel hungry.

I made myself a cheese sandwich, noticing the fridge was also off, and seeing as it was late, I walked into the living room, turning on the TV to watch the news. No power, of course. As I bit into the sandwich, I noticed the sun's rays had moved through the room, shorter than they were before. I thought that was strange, as they should have risen up onto the wall and not moved across the carpet. This meant that the sun was... rising? I dropped my sandwich and looked out. The sun was rising from the west! It was mind-shattering. How could this be? What had happened? And why? We'd all found out why later.

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# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 25 May 2020

Elements – there is a rumor of your death circulating on social media (What are people saying about you, and how do they react after they realize they were duped and you're actually alive? Are your friends going to be stronger, or former friends?) and a picture of lines of candles.

# I was wondering why my social media circle had gone quiet for a few days. The first indication of what had happened was when I added a comment on a Facebook post. Someone I knew wrote back "How dare you! Who are you? Haven't you got any respect for the dead?" I had no idea what they were going on about, so I messaged them and they instantly blocked me. I went to one of my private groups and added a post and was thrown out straight away. Something was up.

# It wasn't until one of the members of that group decided to write me a coarse message about how bad I was and how I disrespected the memory of...me. I replied telling her that I had no idea what she was going on about and then I received a link and was blocked from messaging her again. I went to the link and it showed me a Facebook post of lines of candles in a church, with my name written in the title, saying I'd died three days ago, "God Bless my Soul."

# It has been two months now. No one on social media believes that I'm still alive.

back to ToC

#

# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 25 May 2020 (second)

Elements – the setting is a rally or protest. While multiple people are live streaming (Facebook Live, Instagram Live, etc.) the event and they invade each other's "broadcast" space.

Another protest. This one's against Trump again, though he's already said in his press conference that the chanting outside was FOR him and his "great work". When? When did they ever? When he paid? When he ordered junk food? However, what's really interesting is the amount of people live streaming, Facebook, Instagram, whatever, who knows? And there's so many they're videoing and interviewing each other about the protest! Some of them have been so obsessed with themselves that they've forgotten what they're meant to be protesting about! One of them just said 'animal rights'! Dump Trump, that's what I say.

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#

# **Iron Writer Weekly Challenge**

# 15 June 2020

Elements – a conversation with a developmentally disabled person and the lessons you could learn from them and the lessons they learn from you. Make sure to include how you met and your relationship (friends, mentor/mentee, parent/child, acquaintances, etc.), and a picture of a man helping an older man swing a baseball bat.

"Hello! What are you doing?" said some unseen kid on a bike in the street. I had been digging holes for concrete tiles to lay down as a driveway for well over four hours and my patience was shot. I was always working on something.

"What does it look like I'm doing? Digging to Australia?" I continued, hoping it wasn't going to take much longer. There were still a few daylight hours in the day.

"Oh, that's impossible, I don't think you can do that. It would get very hot after a while, you might even start a volcano or something," replied the kid.

"What the..." I looked up. Now I could see why his speech sounded a bit slurred, it was a Down Syndrome kid. Where had he come from? "Oh. No, I'm building a driveway."

"We have a concrete driveway, it's very smooth. I can put my face on it and it's very smooth."

"Yeah, well, I'd need a lot of concrete for this, it took half a ton to do the ramp." I pointed to it.

"Do you know how to play baseball?" he asked, cycling around in the street. He was lucky, the traffic was light today.

"Well, no, not really."

"I can show you if you'd like. I have a pitching net in my garden."

"That's mighty kind of you, but I've got to finish this..." I replied.

"You can do it tomorrow. All work and no play makes you a dull boy."

I sat up. "Isn't that 'makes Jack a dull boy'?"

"Who's Jack? Which house does he live in?" he asked innocently.

"The one he built," I said, realising my own punchline. He didn't get it. A few drops of rain fell and the sky went grey, dark grey. A storm was brewing. "It looks like trouble's coming. You'd better get home," I told him.

"And the baseball?" he asked.

"It's going to pour down in a minute."

"My net is in the garage, along with my pitching machine."

And he was right, all work and no play makes me some dull boy.

back to ToC

# 

# 1500 Words (or less), an **Iron Writer Spinoff**

# 3 April 2020

Elements – a chocolate Easter bunny, a hurricane, something canary yellow and a photo showing a cloudy sky over trees.

"There's a hurricane a-coming,"said Grandma Phumps.

"Really, Grandma?" She nodded while rocking in her chair. We sat there on the front porch, watching the clouds drift by above the trees as the sun went down for the day. I smoothed my canary yellow dress against my lap and smiled at her.

"Yep. Better get in, littl' un," she smiled back.

"Okay." I stood to go in. "Grandma, can I eat my chocolate Easter bunny before supper?" I gave her another beamer.

"No. It'll upset your tummy and rot your teeth. Now, get in before it starts to get bad."

I looked up to the sky which showed no sign of trouble. "Grandma, I don't think there's gonna be a hurricane."

"See? That shows how much you know. Nuthin'! Now get on in!" She tapped me on the butt and I opened the screen door and went in. I ran over to the kitchen to check on my chocolate bunny. Although I knew I couldn't eat it, I still wanted to see it and dream of the moment I would devour it! I would eat the ears first, and then the feet, and then... where was it? I looked around the kitchen, then the living room... nothing.

"Grandma?" I went back out to the porch, Grandma was still rocking in her chair. "I can't find my chocolate bunny!"

"Oh, it's around somewhere. You just forget where you put it. Now go back in, there's a hurricane a-coming."

I looked up at the sky once more, not a whiff of wind in the air. "Grandma, how do you know there's gonna be a hurricane?"

"Ah, your Grandma knows everything, littl' un." She smiled at me. There was a little spot of chocolate to the left side of her lower lip. Oh, Grandma!

back to ToC

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# 

# 1500 Words (or less), an **Iron Writer Spinoff**

# 19 April 2020

#

# Elements – a divining rod, Victory in Europe Day, a severe thunderstorm warning, something multi-colored and a picture of a hand on piano keys.

#

# We collected all the valuables and put them down into the basement, probably the only place they'd be safe. The TV report said the thunderstorm would be severe and tornadoes were expected, so we were all heading down there, too. Grandpa was sitting at the piano. His hands tinkled the ivories, quietly playing parts of an old melody and humming away to himself.

# "Grandpa, we've gotta go down to the basement now. The storm is coming," I said. I placed my hand on his shoulder lightly, grabbing a little of his attention.

# "Ah, Leipzig..."

# "Grandpa, the basement, the storm's coming." He continued playing the piano, the tune and volume building.

# "We spent those next few weeks in that one room, you know, even celebrated victory together with a confiscated bottle of schnaps. Ah, those first few weeks..."

# "Grandpa?"

# "You know, when I first saw her, I almost shot her. When I bust open that door, I thought she was holding a gun, but it turned out to be a divining rod. The only reason I didn't fire was her hat, her muiti-coloured hat... I hadn't seen anything with so much colour in months, only dirt, mud and blood. But there, before me, was a pretty German girl with a wonderful hat. If that had been a gun, I'd have been a goner... because of a hat."

# "Grandpa, we have to go now."

# "She had a piano in her small room, just like this one..."

# "Grandpa!" The storm was quickly approaching...

#

'Second' version

5 May 2020

The door was locked. That couldn't be. I tried again, it must've been stuck somehow, the frame being so old and warped. I turned the handle and pushed but nothing.

"Ma! Have you seen Grandpa?" I shouted down to the basement. We'd collected all the valuables and put them down there, probably the only place they'd be safe. The TV report said the thunderstorm would be severe and tornadoes were expected, so we were all heading down there, too.

"He's in his room! Hurry up, the storm's almost here!" came back the reply. I ran to the kitchen and rummaged through the drawer filled with little bits of trash the family never threw away and felt the spare key to Grandpa's room.

Unlocking the door, I found Grandpa sitting at his upright piano. His hands tinkled the ivories, quietly playing parts of an old melody and humming away to himself.

"Grandpa, did you lock the door?" No reply, he continued on with his little hum. "We've gotta go down to the basement now. The storm is coming," I said. I placed my hand on his shoulder lightly, grabbing a little of his attention.

"Ah, Leipzig..."

"Grandpa, the basement, the storm's coming." He continued playing the piano, with the tune and volume building.

# "We spent those next few weeks in that one room, you know, even celebrated victory together with a confiscated bottle of schnaps. Ah, those first few weeks..."

# "Grandpa?"

# "You know, when I first saw her, I almost shot her. When I bust open that door, I thought she was holding a gun, but it turned out to be a fire poker. The only reason I didn't fire was her hat, her multi-colored hat... I hadn't seen anything with so much color in months, only dirt, mud and blood. But there, before me, was a pretty German girl with a wonderful hat. If that had been a gun, I'd have been a goner... because of a hat."

# "Grandpa, we have to go now."

# "She had a piano in her small room, just like this one, you know."

"Grandpa!" The storm was quickly approaching, the room turning gray as the clouds covered the sky.

#

back to ToC

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 1 January 2020

#

Prompt - Describe an undercover police officer disguised as a homeless man through the eyes of someone who is able to recognize him as a cop.

Looking out through the blinds as I usually do, and watching the street for the next drop off kinda gives you a sixth sense. At first I thought I was going paranoid and shrugged it off but then your brain won't stop when it gets an inkling, telling you something's not right with this picture. All was normal in the street, at the grocers, the barbers, the tobacconists, even the watchmaker was open after a week closed due to sickness in the family, but what caught my eye was the homeless guy sitting on the corner, arse against the wall with his knees up on his chest. Sure, I could see from here the couple of days' stubble on his face and that his clothes looked like he'd slept in them for a while, and his manner was that of a drunk. But people ignored him as they walked by. Now by itself, that isn't strange, but I mean, no one noticed him. Absolutely no one looked his way. It was like he wasn't sitting there and stinking the place out. I told young Joe to get me some oranges and I watched as he walked right by the guy. I even showed him the guy when he came back up. Nope, he hadn't seen him, or more to the point, smelt him. Yep, that was my problem. If he was a homeless guy, either he'd just been to the shelter and got himself a shave and a shower, maybe some new apparel, which he hadn't, or he smelt like shit from the street. Which he didn't. Occasionally I caught him looking our way, towards the front door, our front door. The door with no distinguishing marks, signs or features for strikingly obvious reasons. This guy was an undercover cop.

back to ToC

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 8 January 2020

Prompt - The reactions of passers-by to a woman walking a three foot tall elephant on a leash.

"Oh my, isn't it cute," said the fifty-something twice-divorced millionairess dressed to the nines, stroking the head of her yapping lap chihuahua. "I must have one. Frufru, what do you think, huh, dearie?"

"What the hell is that?" asked the MAGA hat wearing overweight Bud-drinking open carrying bearded forty-something standing with his drinking buddies, all with matching t-shirts saying 'Respect 45'. "Is that some Libtards joke, well, I ain't believing it, no siree! And you ain't taking my gun!" All three 'clinked' their cans together, losing half of the contents to froth.

"Mum! Can I have one?" screamed the little boy over his iPhone 11 Pro without moving his eyes from the screen. His mother nodded, instantly taking hers out and checking its availability on the net.

The woman walking a three foot tall elephant on a leash just kept on down the street, oblivious yet proud of the attention.

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 15 January 2020

Prompt - You cook (and/or bake) for stress relief. You've just had the worst day of your life. What happened, and what are you making?

Wake up at 4:20, I need to catch the 5:21 to the city. A couple of labourers are sitting and watching my every move as I stand at the door, waiting for the end stop. They put their heads together and laugh. When the doors finally open, I'm off down the platform to my next train which will take me to university.

The carriages aren't lit up yet and the rain is pelting down - I forgot ro bring an umbrella and I'm wearing my winter coat, not my waterproof. Soaked by the time the doors are working. All the passengers find out that this carriage isn't the one we're expecting, and some of the seat numbers are missing. There are no sockets to charge my phone, so it's a 'read-a-book' journey. Shame I forgot to pack one as well. Sitting next to an old man who snores loudly and believes the middle armrest is his, along with some of my space.

Three and a half hours later I'm on a tram, I've punched my ticket but the machine didn't really work, the time stamp is barely readable and the hole punches didn't go all the way through the ticket. A ticket inspector appears and suspects me of giving her an old ticket. it takes five minutes of gentle persuasion and the help of her fellow workmate to make her realise my ticket has been punched. An old lady with a zimmer frame almost makes me miss my stop by getting in the way as I'm trying to get off.

I need the toilet before class so I run to the closest Mens and get into the cubicle only to find out a few minutes later that there's no toilet paper and I have to wait for everyone to leave before exiting out with my trousers around my ankes to find some. It's at the door.

I get into class and it's workshop time, and I get stuck with the obnoxious idiot of the group to work with because no one else will. He gives no ideas and I have to suffer his innane jokes and blatently disrespectful remarks about the other students. At the end of class he orders me to help him with his task for next lesson, which I ignore, but he then goes over to the teacher, who then informs me that I should work with him to complete his task. I set a time with him during the week.

I need to wait three hours for the next class so I find the last table available in the corridors on the third next to the Ladies, which means a steady flow of traffic, and take out some material I printed out earlier for me to study and take notes, only to find that in my rush to get home yesterday, I printed the wrong files out at work. I decide to spend these hours wandering around the university, getting to know where every faculty is, only to be caught on three occasions by teachers asking if they can help me as I look lost. One of them is the Dean. I sneak into a toilet to get some rest.

The next class starts, merely a short question and answer seminar, and my questions to the teacher are answered, but in a way which leaves me more confused than I was before I asked. The clock ticks by as I wonder if I can catch the last train back. With 27 minutes to go, the class ends and I rush out into the snow and run for the tram which is entering the stop. I get on but can only find a space next to the homeless person and his personal stink.

With three minutes to go, the tram enters the end stop and I run to the train ticket office to get a seat ticket. With no time to ask, I have no idea whether my seat is window, table, aisle, double or four-seater. Falling onto the platform, I'm greeted by the sight of a thousand people trying to get on the train. I'm not worried as everyone has a booked seat. I find out I have an aisle seat on a double, sitting next to a teenage with bleeding headphones and a habit of swearing every few minutes. Again, there are no sockets to charge phones, and even if there were, I have no opportunity to use it. A group of gypsies get on at the next stop and take all available seats. For sure they have no seat tickets, and after making some commotion with the other passengers, one sights the ticket inspector and they all run to the next carriage or probably the front of the train.

The ticket inspector looks at the ticket and says there's something wrong. The cashier gave me a seat ticket for the right train but for tomorrow. We have a little argument and he finally lets me off, but with a stern warning. The teenager keeps sniggering until his stop, which is one before mine so I get up and of course he takes his time moving before I can sit down again.

The train arrives ten minutes late, meaning I've missed my connection, so I have to wait another half an hour for another. When it gets in, I jump on and find a seat. By the time this train departs, the carriage is full and I'm surrounded by young adults drinking, screaming and having what they think is a good time. While dancing one guy spills some of his beer over the seat near me and I look away, which gives him the chance to put his face into mine. Before I can think about any retaliation or escape, one of his friends pulls him away.

With only 2% left on my phone, I'm home and I make some deviled eggs for myself, half a dozen, putting some extra mayonnaise in that mix.

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 22 January 2020

Prompt - Dragons are real, and there's now one curled up at your front door like a stray cat demanding a home.

It started off as a joke news item, you know the kind, right at the end of all the political propaganda, the natural disasters where "one Brit was injured in the incident", the car crashes, pedophile incidents and school shootings. That cute 30 second hit of the squirrel caught with his nuts in the fence, or the tortoise who decided to escape from the zoo after living there peacefully for a hundred years. That's how it started, with the newscaster laughing out his lines "And finally, 'dragons' are alive and well and living in a cul-de-sac in South Wales. According to local authorities in the quiet town of Penwylit, the Thiggins household is now home to a six-foot green 'dragon' who goes under the name Nirridos. As yet, the Thiggins were unavailable for comment, although eyewitnesses have stated that the 'creature' has collected and made itself a nest from the surrounding neighbourhood's golden jewelry. I guess having a dragon as a pet is one 'golden opportunity' any family would wish for!"

Well, what actually happened was that he chose us. I opened the door to bring in the morning milk and there he was, all curled up like a cat on the 'Welcome' mat. He gave me a fright to start with, but then he lifted his head and gave those 'poor me' eyes. What could we do but allow him in? It was only later we realised that it could speak, fly, steal gold and burn the house down.

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 29 January 2020

Prompt - The War Dept of the USA ceased to exist by that name in 1947. It is now 2020 (or further along...) and in today's mail you received a *recently* dated letter from the War Department...

I heard the thud of the mail as it hit the carpet at the front door. Daphne wasn't in, she had a doctor's appointment. I put the newpaper I was reading down and went to collect the mass of junk.

Along with the plie, there were a few bills, but I'd deal with them later, turning on the computer and transferring the money. I sorted them from the rest and put them on my desk in the study. As I threw the rest away into the paper recycling bin, a letter caught my eye. At first I thought it was some Reader's Digest newsletter, but it had some official seal on the top left of the envelope. I grabbed it back from the bin and gave it a closer look. It was from the War Department. That was strange. I'd done my duty for my country, serving in the Forces and another thing which I couldn't even mention to myself it was so secret, and I knew that the War Department had ceased to exist in 1947, which just happened to be the year in which I was born.

I looked at the date of the letter. A few days ago. That couldn't be right.

Hesitating for a moment, I got my letter opener and sliced the top of the envelope with its thin, sharp blade. I slipped out the single paged letter, unfolded it and saw that it contained only a few paragraphs. I began to read. I fainted.

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 5 February 2020

Prompt - A practice funeral? Well, your friend says he wants to be sure everyone knows what he wants for his funeral, so he's invited everyone for a dry run. However, he didn't expect...

"One more time, but with feeling! And from the top!" Cuthbert's voice from his coffin boomed through the church. Fred stood at the pulpit and tried the pre-written eulogy again. The rest of us sat in the pews on either side of the alter, Dave and Steve on the left, me and George on the right. Fred cleared his throat and tried again.

"I knew Cuthbert well...!" He paused as he took another breathe. Dave sniggered.

"Who was that?" shouted Cuthbert. The lid flew open and he popped up like Dracula on springs. Dave and Steve burst out laughing. "Oh, it that what you're gonna do? Laugh? At my funeral? I haven't got much time left, only two months, says my doctor!" They tried to subdue their laughter. Me and George smirked at each other. It was insane. A practice funeral. A dry run. "Where's your respect, eh, Dave? Who was the one who helped you get through college, eh? Who was the one who paid off that bird who was gonna snitch to your wife, eh? Who was the one who...?"

"Alright, alright," said Dave. "Sorry. It's just... it's just this whole thing is stupid. You're still alive. We should be down the pub, 'aving a few drinks, not sitting here, listening to ol' wheezy here running through your lines." We all looked around at each other and nodded. This was all ludicrous.

"Now look here! I'm the one who's going to die! I want to make sure everything goes the way I want it to, make sure everyone knows what they should do."

"Yeah, yeah," said Steve. "When Fred here finishes the eulogy, we listen to 'Fat Bottomed Girls' by Queen and then us four take your coffin out to your grave." Steve's last word echoed in the empty church. Suddenly the cross hanging on the left of the alter dropped down and smacked Cuthbert on the head, crushing it to a pulp. His body dropped into the coffin and the force of his weight closed the coffin lid. Fred cleared his throat again.

"I knew Cuthbert well..."

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 12 February 2020

Prompt - He blinked when the other three lab assistants walked up and one stretched out a tentacle holding a beaker full of the latest nanotech mixture. They all smiled with both mouths and blinked all three eyes as they said, "Here, you should try this. We all did..."

It was usually quiet in the lab down on the fifth level but there was an errie silence to the place. Where were they all? The chief lab technician, what was her name? Zerkovsky? She wasn't in her seat next to her computer screen, tying as she does.

The lights were on but no one was home. I walked past the dozen or so workcounters and there was no sign of anyone expect for some unfinished task and a few beakers bubbling over. I turned off a Bunsen burner and heard a squeak from the back of the large room, down in the depths of the laboratory. It sounded like something slipping against the clean, wax floor.

At the back of the lab were glass-sealed rooms, and one of the doors was open. A flickering light emitted from above the machines inside. I opened the door further to see movement in one corner.

When my eyes registered what I was looking at, I screamed. In the corner were all the lab assistants, cuddled together in their white coats. But something was wrong. They all turned to towards me as a group and said, "Hello."

Every one of them had octopus-like heads, a swollen bag of flesh, each with one eye and two mouths. They also had tentacles with suckers where once there were arms.

I couldn't believe my eyes. I knew the kind of research they were doing in here, but what happened in here? How did someone break the protocols? Why? Was there an accident? Was it on purpose?

I blinked and three lab assistants, or at least they used to be, walked up to me and one stretched out a tentacle holding a beaker of some nanotech mixture. All three smiled, or perhaps not, who can tell, with both their mouths, and blinked all three of their eyes. In unison they said, "Here, you should try this, We all did..."

I did what I had to do. I ran out of there as fast as I could and locked the door. This would ruin the company, hundreds of people would lose their jobs! It would mean I'd have to cancel my Hawaiian holiday! I should call the boss, security, whoever. I made the call, and as I watched it ring, I noticed my hand was slightly red, inflamed, and a small nobule appeared on the top of my hand.

The group of octopus-like lab assistants inside the lab came to the window of the door and 'smiled', nodding their heads. The boss picked up my call.

"Hello? Sanders? What do you want? I'm extremely busy!" shouted the boss.I watched as the small nobule grew into a sucker, and other nobules appeared on my hand and arm. "Well? I haven't got all day, Sanders!"

"Sir, you should come down to Lab 526 immediately. There's something you should see."

"What? Really?" asked the boss.

"Yes, sir. It's of the utmost importance." I opened the door to an applause of tentacles.

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 19 February 2020

Prompt - You become acquainted with Steve, the racoon who lives in your backyard.

Steve was a nice guy. Okay, his table manners weren't the best, he never cleaned his feet when he came into the house, liked crawling all over the kitchen table and trying out different types of food, nibbling this and that, and pooped and peed wherever he liked. But what do you expect, he's an animal! But he was a nice guy, always loved cuddling in my lap on a cold evening, and licking my feet when I had them out by the fire, keeping them warm. His claws were a little sharp, though, especially when giving a back rub.

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 26 February 2020

Prompt - The giants wearing Santa Claus outfits stomped into the park and sat down, then demanded treats... "Or we'll trick y'a!" Go ahead and describe the scene, from the POV of a first responder, a kid watching, a bystander, a politician... just about anyone you like...

All I was doing was walking my wife's dog. She'd ordered me out of the house while she entertained her friends with some triangular sandwiches and tea. So I put on my jumper and took Frufru out for a walk around the park.

No sooner had I walked one lap and picked up little Frufru's poop, three giants wearing Santa Claus outfits stomped over the estate and sat down in the middle of the park. Seeing as I was the only bystander, one of them pointed his big finger at me and demanded treats, "Or we'll trick y'a!" he said.

Well, what could I tell him? I said, "Look here, it's all well an' good you coming over here in your big 150 size shoes, sitting your fat arse down in our recreation area! It's another to wear Santa Claus outfits at the end of February and demanding treats like it's Halloween! The only treat I 'ave for you, my son, is Frufru's mess right 'ere in this bag!"

Well, the look the old geezer gave me was a fright, I tell you. He stood right up, told his mates "I'm not 'aving this!" and they left without another word.

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 5 March 2020

Prompt - Finally asleep, when the cat throws up beside the bed at 1:47 am. I know, because I look at the clock before I remember I don't have a cat...

What the hell was that smell? I knew it had been a rough night on the town with my buddies, we'd had two too many, but I'd somehow finally got to bed after midnight. I had remembered to brush my teeth, so, it wasn't that. I looked over at the clock on the bedside table. 1:47 am. I could feel I'd only just fallen asleep, too, as my head felt like it had been hit with a hammer.

Looking into the dark, I saw a cat scrunched on all fours behind a wet, lump of vomit. Its eyes looked straight at me and didn't stir. Then it hit me. I don't have a cat.

I sat up. In fact, I don't have a clock on my bedside table, either. It's on the wall, out of reach. And what bedside table? I didn't have one!

A flash of panic went through my brain and I jumped out of bed. This wasn't my bed! I ran into the connecting bathroom and looked around. This was not my bathroom. This wasn't my bathroom mirror and this was definitely NOT my toothbrush!

"Jeff! Are you coming back?" said a female voice.

I smiled. Scored!

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 11 March 2020

Prompt - You see a stranger in your neighborhood getting out of a taxi with three heavy laundry bags. You know the nearby laundromat is closed for renovations. As you walk over to tell the stranger, you realize one of the laundry bags is moving, as if someone is struggling inside it. What do you do?

I was late with the garbage this morning due to a rough night with the boys. Thankfully the garbagemen were also late. A taxi pulled up a few doors down and a guy got out. He then proceeded to pull out three large and what seemed heavy laundry bags. He plonked them on the road near the pavement and paid the taxi driver, who drove off at quite a speed.

A thought hit me. The nearby Laundromat was closed for renovations. This guy had gone out of his way to pay for a taxi to bring his laundry. Wow, was he gonna be pissed to find out it was closed! I had to go and tell him, just to see his face!

I was about to tap the guy on the shoulder as he was pulling the bags onto the pavement when one of them moved – by itself. Someone was inside the bag... in fact, looking at all three bags, the size and shape reminded me of scrunched up limbs and bodies... One of the bags was turning red...

"Yeah? What do you want?" asked the guy. I was so mesmerised by the bags, I'd almost bumped into him.

"Oh! Err, sorry. I just couldn't help but notice your laundry."

"And? What do you want?" He stood up, his face in mine. He moved his hands to his hips, revealing a holstered gun under his suit jacket.

"Well, err, the Laundromat is closed for renovation."

He stared at me for a moment, then looked down at the bags. "Oh. Yeah, right! The bags! Nah, I'm not going to the Laundromat, I've already had my clothes 'cleaned', if you know what I mean." He smiled and winked. "Hey, can you give me an 'and? These are bloody heavy."

"Err, sure?"

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 18 March 2020

Prompt - You open the closet because your child is scared, and... there is a monster inside!

"You're just over-reacting," I said, sick and tired of having to come up to her room every time she spotted a spider or creepy crawly. "It's not going to hurt you." As I walked in, I repeated what my father used to say to me. "It's probably more scared of you than you are of it!"

I stood there wondering where it would be now. Her small, shaking frame held the back of my thighs and she pointed towards the closet.

"It's in there," she whispered. Her behaviour was getting sillier and sillier.

"In the closet?" How had she even seen a spider in the closet? It was dark in there, unless you shone a torch into it. With a sigh, I went over and grabbed the handles.

"Dad!" she whispered as loud as she could. "Dad!"

"What? It's just a..." I opened the closet wide to see a huge, green, furry, muscular creature with two rows of sharp teeth devouring my daughter's clothes. In one sharp intake of breath I slammed the closet doors shut. The only sound in the room was the muffled noise of the monster eating a blue sequin dress. "Go get your mother," I whispered.

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 25 March 2020

Prompt - The editor was hard to please, but that might have been because he had been dead for years.

I'd had enough. For years I'd been sending my final final manuscript and it still wasn't good enough for him. The last email I got from my editor was Spring 2016 which stated, "I expect only the best from you. Until I get it, or at least get a taste of it, you won't hear a thing from me." And he kept his word. I hadn't. Three and a half years of one-way traffic. Twenty one rewrites. Absolutely nothing. Not a ping in my email box.

That's why I'm driving to his place. I know where it is, he once put a photo of a rosebed in his garden up on Facebook. Thing is, there were a few unmistakable local landmarks in the background. I google-mapped it and after a few minutes found his house. I never thought I'd have to use that information. Apparently we're almost neighbours, he lives in the next town, of all the places he could live.

And here I am, parked in his drive. The front garden's a little overgrown. Not much movement. The doorbell gets no reply. Looking in his letterbox, there's a stack of stuff inside. I see something familiar. My last edited manuscript... and... the one before it! What? The guy has moved? I looked through the letterbox again, I'm sure I can catch the whiff of something strange. Something's gone off in there. No, I know that smell, that's...

I smash the glass in the front door with a brick from the driveway and unlock the door. As I open it, the smell wafts past me, escaping the house. I run through the rooms, searching for the source, and there it is, behind a large wooden desk, the decomposing form of my editor. No wonder he never replied! He was dead!

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 1 April 2020

Prompt - When the Space Force reached the rings of Saturn, they were surprised to find the missing socks from centuries of washing...

"Ah, the first voyage to Saturn! My fellow crewmates! We are about to become the first people ever to see the rings of Saturn with our own eyes!" said Captain Arthur Dikk, proudly standing at his controls overlooking his bridge crew.

"Technically speaking, Captain, we'll see them through the lenses of the cameras. We won't actually go out and see them with..." mentioned Crewman Tates Second Class Third Wheel.

"Thank you, Tates, I was speaking metaphorically, of course...you little shit..." retorted the Captain.

"Yes, Captain." Tates went back to monitoring his station.

"Coming into view now, Captain," said Crewman Luvely, her smooth, luscious thighs twitching under her control panel.

"Oh yes, rather... oh, yes? Saturn!" said the Captain, trying to get back on track.

"There seems to be an error in the sensors, Cap'in," said the Scottish crewmember, Crewman McHatMcNat.

"What is it, now McHatMcNat?" The Captain had done nothing but listen to McHatMcNat's awful accent throughout the journey from Earth.

"Sensors are picking up what seems to be... textile, Cap'in, outside, in the rings," reported Crewman McHatMcNat.

"Textile? How in the Gods could that be? Check the systems, McHatMcNat."

"I have, Cap'in, three times already. Textile, and more to the point, 100% cotton, or as near as dammit," said McHatMcNat.

"On screen!" ordered the Captain. They all turned their heads to see an unbelievable sight. The whole bridge gasped in amazement.

"It appears to be a ring of... socks, Cap'in," reported Crewman McHatMcNat.

"Socks?"

"Yes, Cap'in."

"Socks?!"

"Yes, Cap'in, but what's even stranger is, there are no pairs." The crew froze.

"What... what could this mean?" asked Captain Arthur Dikk.

"I have no idea, Cap'in," said Crewman McHatMcNat.

"Perhaps there's a subparticle quantum field of immense prop..." started Crewman Tates.

"Oh, shut up!" said the Captain. He pointed over to one particular spot in the ring of socks. "McHatMcNat, Zoom in over there, on the top left, get a visual on that cluster."

"Yes, Captain," said Crewman Tates, and the viewscreeen showed a close-up of a dozen single socks.

# "That Spongebob Squarepants sock! I lost that thirty-seven years ago!"

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 8 April 2020

Prompt - Salesmen quit bothering Mr. Winkler after he taught his dog how to use a machine gun...

He was sure to get him today. For three months every Thursday when doing his rounds, Jefferson would save his 3 p.m. slot just for Mr. Winkler, his favourite soft case. Every week he'd get the old bleeder to subscribe to yet another completely useless magazine. Last week he'd almost got him to sign for a year's subscription to 'Handcraft Weekly' which suited the old guy right down to the ground, what with his arthritis attacking his old, crooked fingers. Would've made Jefferson a ton of money, but the git's daughter had unexpectedly popped in and shooed him away. The old guy had tried to get rid of him with his dog, too, a measly mutt with less teeth than legs. And its bark was more of a squeak. Jefferson had to hold in his laughter on many occasions as the dog yelped by his feet while its owner signed on the dotted line.

He walked down the street and got to that creaky gate and looked towards the house. Mr. Winkler was standing at the window, looking out. That was strange, he'd never seen Mr. Winkler do that before. He went to open the gate and he heard the shout.

"I wouldn't do that!" shouted Mr. Winkler, with his head out of one of the living room windows, resting his elbows on the windowsill.

"Good afternoon, Mr.Winkler, I wonder if I could interest you in a monthly subscription of..." He grabbed the gate's handle.

"I said, I wouldn't do that!" shouted the old man again.

Jefferson stood to his full height and straightened his jacket. "Mr. Winkler, what seems to be the matter?"

"It's those magazines you've been selling me," said the old man. He looked pitiful in his tweed cardigan.

"I hope you've been getting the best out of them, Mr. Winkler, and I have a wonderful selection with me today which I'm sure you'll..."

"It's not me, it's me dog."

Jefferson wondered what the old git was talking about. "I'm sorry, Mr. Winkler, what's the matter with the... your dog?"

"I blame that 'The Linguistic Zoologist Monthly' you sold me some time ago. That put the flea in me dog's ear."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Winkler, I don't seem to understand what you're are talking about. Yes, 'The Linguistic Zoologist Monthly' is an excellent publication fillied with,,,"

"And then there was the 'Predatory Biologist', especially the research paper on aggression in dogs."

What was this crazy man talking about. "I'm sorry, Mr. Winkler, I don't really understand where you're going with this. Perhaps you'd allow me to come inside and we can browse my wide range of psychology publications. I have a special offer this week on 'Empirical Evidence: Psychology's Treat.'"

"But I think it was 'DIY Firearms' that did it. Me dog spent the whole week in the garage working on the contraption."

"Working on what contraption, Mr. Winkler?" Jefferson open the gate and stepped into the front garden. The man was crazy. He was sure to sell his whole series of 'Psychiatry Today'. Perhaps even backdated editions, too. Oh, the amount of commission he could make off this idiot today could be immeasurable!

"His machine gun." The garage door swung open to reveal the tiny mutt standing on his hind legs, holding an almost perfect replica of a Vickers machine gun, complete with a water jacket and a belt of bullets. Jefferson halted mid-step.

"And he's not afraid to use it." The mutt threw the roller handle back twice, ready for firing.

"By the looks of it, you're gonna need 'Three-ply Weeky'," laughed Mr. Winkler.

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 15 April 2020

Prompt - While dressing the frog in the bunny costume, he discovered that the leggings had velcro snaps too!

The Easter Parade was almost on. Frogs from all around would be watching the floats and entertainers as they marched through the streets of the town. One thing was missing. The Easter Bunny.

"Where the hell is Crokonovics?" screamed Pipidae across the changing rooms. "Why is he always late?"

The crowd op ahead separated as a large, bulbous green frog came leaping down the room. Crokonovics looked like he'd put on a little weight since yesterday at the rehearsal.

"Where have you been? Five minutes and the parade begins!"

Crokonovics nodded and sat down, ready for his Bunny costume.

"Okay, maybe I can put this on in time!" said Pipidae. He wrapped the main part of the costume around Crokonovcs' body and pllaced the head on.Crokonovics. As he zipped up the back of the head, he saw something that looked strange on the frog's neck, A velcro snap? No, it couldn't be. It must be some kind of smudge or mark on the old frog's skin. Finishing up the last few details of the costume, Pipidae noticed that the frog's legs had those strange marks, too... they were for sure velcro snaps!

Pipidae froze for a moment and turned and shouted, "Intruder! Intruder! Toad alert! Toad alert!"

# Frogs screamed and howled as they ran from the room. Pipidae slowly turned back to what he thought had been Crokonovics, but now was a massive toad with both the bunny costume and a frog suit at his feet. Pipidae leapt too late.

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# 22 April 2020

Prompt - At the 10 year, 20 year, and 50 year high school reunions, almost everyone changed. Joey, though, was still the same teenager they had graduated with so many years ago...

# Dave had been at all the high school reunions, the tenth, the twentieth, and now the fiftieth. The numbers had dramatically decreased through the last few years, he'd kept in touch enough to know how and when his old classmates had shuffled off this mortal coil. Out of the three hundred or so in his year, there were now only a few dozen of them. Most of them had gone to cancer and heart disease. A handful by shootings and many had suffered crippling diseases for years before passing on. He was okay, a double hip operation had kept him mobile and he'd never overdone the drink. He didn't have the old football player physique anymore, but at least he was alive.

# Joey, however, did. He still looked and moved the same he did all those years ago. When he walked into the room, a smaller room than the twentieth reunion but still decorated to the nines by the girls, they all turned in their chairs and gasped. It took half an hour for them to settle down and finally ask him the big question - how? He smiled and said, "I eat the souls of my classmates! Just kidding, Nutella."

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 29 April 2020

Prompt - You ordered seeds online. They looked a little strange when you opened the package, but you planted them anyway. When they sprout...

About three months ago, I ordered a 100-packet mix of organic vegetable seeds.We'd just moved in and I wanted to see which vegetables were suitable for the soil in this area so I thought this would be a cheap and easy way to find out. Sure, we got tons of different kinds of seeds: a few types of carrot and lettuce, radish, all types of squash, even some asparagus and tomato. I dug up a patch of the garden and tried them all - at the right times of the year, of course.

But there was this one packet. There was no picture on it and no title. It was a bit curious, and when I opened it and saw the seeds, or should I say 'seed' as there was only one, I didn't recognise it. I'm not an expert or anything, but this seed was blue. Bright blue. But it was definitely a seed - of something. I sent a message to the seller but they had no idea what I was talking about. With no instructions and no other information, even from the world wide web, I thought 'what the hell' and planted it among the others.

It took a while. All the other vegetables did quite well, expect for the carrots and tomatoes, but this one seed... when it finally sprouted it looked quite normal, rather like a strawberry, so I thought maybe the seller had accidentally put it in with the vegetable seeds. But why did it have a blue seed? It grew quite large, in fact it started taking over the patch. I thought perhaps it was a weed, and was about to dig it out the next morning, when a flower appeared. A lovely blue flower. So I kept it.That was a mistake.

About a week later, the flower closed and grew. It didn't bloom again but it swelled up. Perhaps this was the vegetable or fruit of the plant. The swelling got to a good old size, and then one morning, I found it had burst open, blue sap was all across the patch. What was even stranger was there was a blue line running all the way down to the end of the garden, past the trees at the back, rather like a trail of... footprints.

Now, since Fluffy my pet Chihuahua got bit, we've made the garden out of bounds. Damn blue meanie!

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 6 May 2020

Prompt – The kitten strikes at dawn...

One time in the garden, this tiny ginger cat sneaked in through a hole in the fence, meowing, looking for a friend. My kids were playing jump rope but instantly stopped and crowded it as soon as they saw it. They petted it, they held it. But whose kitten was it? Apparently, a family in the parallel road had lost him, and came for him a few hours later. For a few weeks we had continuous contact with the kitten as he prounced around the neighborhood like a tiny ginger king. Then nothing.

About six months later, I started jogging to keep fit, or 'dead-man' running as I called it as every step hurt. I always jogged late evening, and whenever I passed a certain hedge in the parallel road after a kilometer or so, there he was, the same ginger guy, now a cat, ready to pounce on me from the ground. The first time he got me, made me jump, though as the weeks went on, I was ready for him, even sneaking up to the hedge before he could attack. Then all of a sudden... nothing. I stopped jogging soon after that.

Last week I saw him, really early in the morning as the sun was coming up. Half a tail, one eye ripped up and he had a certain thousand-yard stare to go with his tough saunter. He looked over for a second and gave a small, inconsequential growl. And now the kitten strikes at dawn...

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 13 May 2020

Prompt – Hard hats, orange warning vests, the crew working on the roadside was so ordinary that no one gave them a second look. Two days later, though, the road...

Two days ago, we saw them, this crew with their hard hats and orange warning vests, working on the roadside doing whatever we thought they were doing: fixing holes, checking on some cable, looking for some leak or something. Whatever. Not interesting, just irritating as hell, slowing the traffic to a crawl. Now we woke up to this: a field. The road... is gone! There are some huge concrete barriers at the boundary of the town where the road now ends! After that... nothing! They picked up the road and left... a field! What are we meant to do now?

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 20 May 2020

Prompt – Your shoes go for a walk. Without you

This quarantine's a bitch. He hasn't used me in months! How am I meant to keep in shape? If he doesn't use me soon, I'll go all flat in here, misshaped and neglected, leaning against these smelly trainers of his...! Right! That's it! I'm going for a walk! I know the way! Mmm, the door isn't open, I'll walk around inside, then! Ouch! There's more furniture than I thought in here! Doesn't he know about minimalism! At this rate I'm going to scuff my toes! What's this? Isn't there meant to be the back door here? Oh, it must be open, good! Yes, I can feel the open air, the garden, the grass under my sole. Hang on, if I go this way, I'll get to the front gate. Yes, this way...wha... hey! What's that? Ouch! Oh my god! I've just lost my left shoe tongue! Oh no! The dog!

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# 

# More Odds Than Ends

# 27 May 2020

Prompt - Dinosaur fossils are actually the discarded bones from giant alien picnickers visiting Earth.

"I thought you said this place was 'alive'," said Zaphis, sucking the meat off a leg of Jeeshephus and throwing away the bone.

"It is 'alive', look see, flora." Hephis pulled off a large clump of moss the size of a football pitch to show his companion on this outing of theirs. It hadn't been easy getting to this solar system, dodging all those 'Under Construction' signs at this end of the Milky Way.

"That's not even a real plant! And I thought you meant 'alive' as in 'happening'!"

"Well, it is happening. Evolution has just begun! Isn't it marvellous!" Hephis took the meat off another leg of Jeeshephus and threw it in another direction.

"Evolution? You don't believe in all that twaddle, do you?" Zaphis stood up, able to see the curvature of the planet from that height. "And this place is rather small."

"Twaddle? They're trying it out here. This is the birth of Evolution, the thought, the idea..."

"...the absolute cesspit of Evolution. Look at it! Small, stinky, and a high chance of rain! Couldn't we have gone somewhere else for a picnic?"

"Well, I thought..."

"Hey! There's a white ball in the sky!"

"Yes, that's what they're going to call the Moon." Hephis was starting to feel bad about bringing Zaphis, especially as they might interfere with the set program running on this planet they called Earth.

"Great! We can do some target practice!" Zaphis got out her ray gun and aimed it at the Moon.

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 3 June 2020

Prompt - When they opened the door of the closet, a body fell out. Dead.

Dirk opened his front door to see three policemen in full gear standing on his porch.

"Excuse me, sir, but are you Dirk Arthur Pole?"

"Why, yes officer, I am," replied Dirk, dropping a large one in his trousers.

"We've had a missing persons report made at the station for a Mrs Shirley Knot Pole who lives at this same address. Would that be your mother, sir?" Damn, they were going to find out what he did in the garden shed.

"Why, yes officer, it is."

"And? Is she missing,sir?" Denial was always a good defense.

"She's gone over to her sister's for a while, down in Virginia." Ooops, that sister had died some years ago.

"Uh-huh..." The policeman looked at the clipboard in his hand and back at his comrades. "Do you mind if come in? You could go find your mother's sister's address for me and I could check that out." What could Dirk do? He let them in.

Immediately they were all around the house, looking. One officer stood right in front of the closet in the hallway. Mother had always been infatuated with closets and cupboards her whole life, filling the house with them, adding a walk-in closet upstairs. And they all needed to be locked. Dirk wasn't allowed to open any of them without her permission, but he knew where the keys were. Dirk thought it was fitting that he'd put her in the closet. Unfortunately, he'd put her in that particular closet the policeman wanted open. The policeman tried the double doors but they were locked. He turned to Dirk. "Do you have a key for this, sir?"

"Why, yes officer, I do." The game was up. He was going to spend the rest of his life as someone's bitch in jail. He took the key from a nearby drawer and unlocked the closet. Two policemen grabbed a door each and they opened the closet. A body fell out. Dead. Dirk's mother lay on the floor, face down, sealed in a vacuum-wrapped body bag, ordered from Amazon - though he had to buy a pack of ten. Dirk went white with fear. He was going to jail, all over their little scuffle in the garden shed, one that started as an argument about peanut butter and exactly how many peanuts were in the butter.

Suddenly the silence in the room was broken by another body falling from the closet. And then another. Three dead bodies were now lying on the floor, all vacuum-wrapped. What was going on?

"Well, well, well. Looks like you've been busy, Mr Pole," said the first policeman.

"I'm sorry officer, but I have absolutely no idea what is going on here..." said Dirk. Another dead body fell out. One of the policemen looked inside.

"It's quite deep in here, hey, there's about six more bodies in here!" Another policeman went to look. The first policeman began reading out Dirk's rights.

"Mr Dirk Arthur Pole, I hereby..."

"Hang on, hang on." Dirk went to the drawer and took out another key, this time the one for the closet in the living room. He unlocked the door and after a few moments, more bodies in bags hit the floor. The policemen just stood there, stunned.

"Mr Pole..." began the first policeman. Dirk went back to the drawer and took out all the keys. He gave most of them to the other policemen.

"Those are upstairs." The policemen nodded and proceeded to walk up the stairs to inspect the closets there. Dirk kept one key and gestured to the first policeman, who already had his gun out, to follow him. Dirk went to his mother's favourite room, her study, and opened up the large closet there. A dozen bodies fell out.

After calling for backup, the police found a total of sixty-four bodies, including Dirk's mother, in the house, and another fifteen in the garden shed.

"Mr Dirk Arthur Pole, I'm arresting you for the murder of..." The first policeman recited off the list of names. "You do not have to..." Dirk, now in handcuffs, thanked his mother for being a mass-murderer. At least now he'd get solitary confinement as a dangerous criminal.

.

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# More Odds Than Ends

# 10 June 2020

Prompt – The special delivery envelope had one jigsaw puzzle piece in it.

The gate bell rang. At this time it could have only been the postman. I took a shiny dollar from the tray and walked out with they key. When I opened the gate, there he was, beaming at me.

"Hello! I've got a special delivery envelope for you!" he said, showing me this large, white envelope.

"That's odd, I didn't order anything," I replied.

"Well, it's got your name on it. Sign here!"

Without thinking, I signed his paper and took the parcel. As he left and I closed the gate, it was intriguing as to what it was. On the kitchen, I cut it open and out plopped a jigsaw piece. One jigsaw piece. The picture on the front showed a part of a horse's head, while on the back were written in small letter, 'The Rig Veda 1'. I thought it was strange and I just placed it on the shelf and went about my normal daily business.

The next week the exact same thing happened. Another special delivery envelope, signature, shiny dollar, and jigsaw piece. As the months went on, I was able to piece them together. By the last one, almost seven years had gone by and the postman was up three hundred and fifty dollars and I had completed the puzzle.

The next week, the gate bell rang once again. It was the postman, this time with a smaller, white envelope.

"Sign here!" he said, taking his dollar. It was the bill for the puzzle.

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#

# In Celebration of Thanksgiving

# (First draft 11/11/2015 – latest 05/06/2020)

[This story is loosely based on the first ever Thanksgiving dinner between the Pilgrims of the Plymouth colony and the Wampanoag tribe in 1621. Samoset (1590-1653?) was a sachem or leader of the Pemaquid tribe of the Abnaki confederacy, and had begun to learn English from fishermen frequenting the waters of Maine. He allegedly greeted the Pilgrims at Plymouth, and it was he who introduced the Pilgrims to the Wampanoag sachem, Massasoit. Squanto (1580-1622), also known as Tisquantum, was a member of the Patuxet tribe and is thought to have been kidnapped as a young boy along the coast of Maine, and taken to England in 1605. He was taught English and was hired as a guide and interpreter. He returned to his homeland with John Smith in 1614. Unfortunately, Squanto and 23 others were kidnapped by a lieutenant under Smith and were sold as slaves in Malaga, Spain. One theory says that Spanish friars rescued them, including Squanto, by purchasing them and sent Squanto to England. He was employed by John Slaney of the Newfoundland Company, and was sent to Newfoundland around 1617 as an interpreter and returned to his homeland in 1619. His tribe had been wiped out by disease and he was captured by the Wampanoag. He was then rescued by Myles Standish and the Pilgrims and he acted as an interpreter and guide. Mussolato, however, is a fictional character based on certain nationalist leaders of our time.]

"Oh, it's you again," smirked Samoset, watching the Pilgrims down in the tiny settlement, as the cool autumn coastal wind blew across his face.

"Who else would it be?" asked Squanto. Being the only two in the tribe who could speak English, they were also the only ones interested in the new people. Their brothers didn't have much respect for the two loafers, as in their opinion they should've been out hunting, not watching a bunch of pale skinned imbecile immigrants slowly killing themselves. "Anyone die today?"

"Not yet." Samoset took out his bow and aimed an arrow at the nearest man below.

"What are you doing?" asked Squanto, moving from his observation post and greeting his fellow tribesman.

"Oh, I thought you meant..." Samoset greeted Squanto. "Anyway, the ratio of men is too much down there. They only have four squaws now."

"Four? Really? To be honest, I can't tell the difference myself, unless I pay more attention to their clothing. The women wear those big tepees around their waists. Now, our women..."

"What would you know?" laughed Samoset. Squanto grinned it off and replied to the taunt.

"Besides, you can't go around killing them, Samoset, you need to practise your English."

"Hey! What's wrong with my English?"

"What's right with it?" Samoset lunged at Squanto, who fended off the blows with ease. Massasoit, their chief, came over and they immediately calmed down.

"Morning, boys!" greeted the chief. "Anything new?"

"Morning, Chief! Other than Squanto being an idiot..." said Samoset.

"Nothing new, there!" laughed Massasoit. Squanto growled.

"Seriously chief, looks like they're having a bit of a rough time. Maybe we should go and help them out and..." said Samoset.

"Help them out?" inquired Massasoit.

"Yeah, help them out, Samoset?" backed up Squanto. Massasoit eyed him up and he quietened down.

"Yes, Chief, help them out. They're not going to survive the winter if we don't..." Samoset was interrupted by Massasoit's raised palm.

"I am the chief around here. I know you guys can speak their language..."

"Well, I can," remarked Squanto. "I wouldn't call what he says a language as such..."

Samoset was at him again but Massasoit pushed them both to the ground. "Enough." He waited for them to settle. "I am the chief, I say what goes. Anyway, me and the guys up in the Big Tepee, we've been talking, and there's a split." The chief looked over the pale skins' settlement. "Some are 'for' helping, while others..."

"It's that Mussolato the Little Big Mouth again, isn't it, chief?" asked Squanto. Massasoit gave him another stare.

"Why, yes, it is," replied Massasoit.

"I heard his little lecture the other night by the fire. The man's not human," said Squanto.

"Mussolato is a... is a... he's well respected by many in the tribe," stated Massasoit. Squanto stood up and held his shirt in the manner of the man himself.

"They will take our livelihood, burn our homes! They will take our land and rape our women!" Squanto did his best impersonation of Mussolato that he could. Samoset giggled while their chief gazed on.

"Yes, yes, Squanto, he can be a little... hot-headed," said Massasoit.

Squanto went on. "They will hunt all they see and take the food from our own tables, they will starve us, bleed us dry!" Samoset's giggles turned to guffaws.

"Enough, already," squawked Samoset. "You're hurting my sides!" One look at their chief seriously surveying the settlement brought them back to the predicament at hand.

"To think that those poor, unfortunate barbarians could hurt us... look at them," ordered Massasoit. They looked. "They don't live with nature at all, how can they survive? They can't hunt, can't cook, they can't even eat or shit right. What is it with this crapping inside?"

"Oh, I remember a latrine in England, it was so..." said Samoset.

"Yes, thank you. Disgusting, I tell you! No wonder they're dying, they know nothing of hygiene or health." They both nodded in agreement with their chief. "We have an obligation to help them, as fellow human beings, to educate them in the error of their ways. We can't leave them to die in the extreme conditions of winter."

"No, chief, I guess we can't." Samoset tried to hide his bow and arrow but the chief spotted them.

"Yes, Samoset. The least we can do is go and kill a few deer for them, maybe some birds...yes! Brilliant!" The chief slapped Samoset on the back. "A feast! Squanto, Samoset, go and tell those unfortunates to get ready for the biggest feast they've ever seen in their miserable little lives!" The chief, happy in his decision, walked back towards the tribe. Squanto and Samoset looked at each other and picked up their gear. They began to walk down towards the settlement.

"Cool, I haven't had deer since Tuesday," said Squanto.

"I prefer turkey," said Samoset. He grabbed his companion by the shoulder and whispered in his ear. "You know, that Mussolato is a complete sod, but I've got this bad feeling that perhaps he might be right."

"Oh, come now, Samoset! Have you lost your head? Look at the poor creatures! What can they do to us?"

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The ''other evidence that does not support a criminal charge"

# 29 May 2020

[Written when County Attorney Mike Freeman said there was 'other evidence' to be looked at in George Floyd's case.]

"So, Freeman, what's all this about 'other evidence', eh?" asked the Chief as he came through the door. Mike Freeman, county attorney for Hennepin County spun around in his chair and handed over a piece of paper.

"I got this only a few hours before my press conference," said Freeman.

"What is this?" The Chief read it out. "I feel so ashamed of being handcuffed, I will commit suicide under this nice and just policeman's knee, signed George Floyd" He turned it over in his hand. "This is written on office paper, it's got the header and all."

"And? It's a suicide note. The man was obviously suffering from the ordeal."

"We can see that from the video! Wait, what's this... something else written here... 'PS. This isn't my handwriting, I have 3 witnesses to prove it, signed Derek Chauvin'. Oh, well, that's proof enough, then, isn't it!" The Chief screwed up the paper and threw it in the trash bin.

"That's important evidence!"

"You'll need to come up with something better than that," said the Chief.

"How about... an undercover re-location program, we made it look like he died only to relocate him to... Florida."

The Chief shook his head. "Not gonna work."

"Well, how about this?" Freeman passed the Chief a small card. It was Derek Chauvin's KKK membership card. The Chief looked it over and turned the card, revealing an FOP membership number.

"Okay, that looks good enough. Thanks, Freeman, we'll see what we can do."

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#

# Goose

# 29 January 2020

[Written for a 1920s anthology, though was rejected and so rather than let it rot in my hard drive, here it is.]

The headlights could barely break through the fen fog as they raced down the hill and screeched around the unexpected corner in the road, the front left tyre narrowly missing the ditch.

"I'm sure we've lost them! Slow down, you'll kill us!" screamed Bert, looking through the wing mirror of the Cadillac his cellmate Jeff had stolen an hour ago. Two unknown cars had somehow found their trail a little while after escaping from the holding cells in Huntingdon.

"Oh, shut up, ya whinging po...!" The image of a sheep flashed by as Jeff turned the steering wheel to swerve past the obstacle, only to drive straight into the opposite ditch, bringing the car to an abrupt halt against a tree.

"Jeff?" Bert shook himself awake, only to find Jeff laying against the wheel, unstirring, with his face covered in a grey mess. From the top of the hill, Bert heard cars coming down the road. He was sure it was the ones before. Climbing over the door, he fell into the ditch and scrambled through a thorny hedge. He had no idea was what behind except the chance of freedom. Every step through its branches brought pain to his skin but the thought of being caught pushed him on. There was no way he was going back to the prison cells.

He was out through the other side by the time he heard cars coming to a halt at the scene of the crash. What about Jeff? He looked around in front and saw a light off in the distance, perhaps a candle through a window? Trying not to make too much noise, he moved towards it across a field. Men's voices shouted behind him but he wasn't going to look back. The shape of a building appeared and he got to the window. A noise made him turn and a metallic thunk against his skull was the last he felt and heard.

***

"What?" Bert woke with a start. An off-white ceiling came into view and he felt a soft, feathery pillow beneath his head. Where was he? His body was mostly numb, with just a passing feeling throughout. It took him a moment to realise he was in bed, all wrapped up in a huge quilt. With some effort, he pushed himself up against the head of the bed. If she hadn't of rubbed her nose, Bert wouldn't have spotted the old woman sitting on a stool near the wall by the door of the room. "Ahh!"

"Oh, you gave me a fright with that scream, young man," said the old woman, holding her chest.

"What? Where... where am I?"

"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about that. You're safe now. I told those men I hadn't seen you. You're all safe and sound now." She nodded her head until a smile grew upon her face. "But you'll have to stay here for a while, mind you. You look a little ill too, you need some plumping up."

"What? Am I hurt?" Perhaps those years in prison hadn't been so good for him, he was never the strongest guy in the gang. Perhaps he was a little undernourished.

"I made you some lunch, young man." She pointed to the bedside table, where there lay a plate of meat, carrots and what looked like a large lump of lard.

"What's this?"

"I'll have threeses ready for you soon, and I've also got something special for you for supper."

"No, I mean what is this? Lamb?" A flashback of the crash came to mind. What had happened? What about Jeff? Was he dead? Bert moved the plate over to his lap and dug a fork into a piece of meat and ate it. Stringy but not without taste.

"Oh, you would have to spoil the surprise, now, wouldn't you? That's for tonight, a treat from Farmer Ted down the road. This is swift." Bert slowly spat it back out onto his plate. He wondered about whether prison food was all that bad.

"Swift?"

"Yes, I catch them in the net once a week. Makes for a good meal. There's not much out here except for the odd berry and nutrient. It's difficult to sustain yourself out here in the countryside." The old woman got up from her stool by the wall and went to the door of the room. Without looking at him she said, "But there's no need to worry anymore. All is well now that you are here." She gave a little smile and a reassuring nod as she left the room.

Bert thought she was barmy. How long would he have to stay here with her? This old woman was strange, to say the least. But she had covered for him, kept him hidden from the cops. Perhaps he could venture out soon and take his chances by himself. He was hungry, though. As nasty as it looked, he scoffed the whole plate of meat, veg and lard. He'd need all his energy for later. After swallowing the last bite, the room went quiet and he could hear the old woman faintly singing to herself outside in another room, but could only catch a few lines.

"Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, please put a penny in the old man's hat. If you haven't got a penny, a ha'penny will do. If you haven't got a ha'penny, God Bless you."

#

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# 

# The Book that Can't be Read

# 3 January 2020

[The skeletons of a book I once tried to write, though I may still use it some day.]

"Every day is a practice towards our ultimate happiness."

"You what?" Jeff heard the shopkeeper's voice as a small breeze through barren shelves cutting deep into his consumer-driven self of his ever-depleting soul. The sound of sand hitting the thin translucent panels of the dome tapped in rhythm with his heart, and its reflections on the aluminium sheet inside gave the illusion of a tin waterfall.

"Each moment we spend is the price we pay for our suffering."

He ignored the man. "Don't you have anything at all?" Jeff asked, his eyes scanning the rest of the dome, learning the obvious truth.

"Ah, the shuttle only comes in every second Friday, you know that!" replied Ted the shopkeeper. He never left his small stool which sat behind the grime-filled counter. Jeff wondered how the place stayed open, what with not a single crumb around.

"Any chance of a chocolate digestive, or a fig roll, or even a cream cracker?" The look Tom gave made him step back sharply, resonating a shelf, empty save for a kilogram jar of 5 to 8 centimetre pickles. The jar slid towards the edge and Jeff caught it, cupping it in his hands and holding it to his chest for safety. His or the pickle jar's, he didn't know.

"What!? You're always wanting your bloody comfy luxuries, your fluffy white pillows, toilet seat warmers and... and chocolate biscuits!"

Jeff shuffled down the 'main' aisle and along the sheet wall, keeping his eyes on Tom and tucking the jar under the lowest shelf available.

"Be off with you, you..." said Tom, stalling in midsentence as his grim face shone. "Come back on Tuesday, there's a post shuttle due that day and I might have something for you, if you're lucky."

"Tuesday?" It had to be a lie, there'd been many Tuesday shuttles, the chance of biscuits onboard was nil. Not even a Rich Tea. He looked down at his coins and calculated that by Tuesday he'd be as broke as a dry twig under a bladder pressure water tank. "Hang on, aren't the shuttles on Tuesdays fully automated and only go to the factory plant?"

"And? What are you, a damn supervisor or something?" screamed Ted, rolling his stool to the other side of the dome, but still behind the counter.

"Yes." That was Jeff's assigned position on this dry rock of a colony, along with a few other tasks. He only wanted a biscuit. Of course, they received the rationed food and water as any citizen of the union did, but surely one little luxury wouldn't hurt.

"Well, look at you, mister high n'bloody mighty! Pah!" Ted opened his floor hatch and dropped down into the large space below the dome, swearing and shouting to himself, his voice echoing as he went. Each dome had its underground quarters, away from the threat of sandstorms and heat waves, and Ted used his mainly as a storeroom of sorts. No one was allowed down there to see the treasures he'd collected over the years. Jeff heard him throwing objects around and generally getting upset at having to get off his stool and search for something. As supervisor, he had some power, if nothing else.

"Ah-ha, I found it!" shouted Ted's echoing voice from below. With a crank of a lever, he was back up in the dome and sitting on his stool. "There."

"Where?" There was nothing to see. Jeff watched as Ted kicked something beneath the counter which hit Jeff in the shin. Hard. "Aw!" He looked down to see an old closed cardboard box, about a foot square.

"I got this from up on the hill the other day. Have a look see. If there's anything you like, take it. There might even be... biscuits! But you've gotta pay, mind."

Jeff crouched down and unfolded the lid which crumpled in Jeff' fingers revealing a small assortment of objects, mainly papers, a book and rusty unrecognisable gadgets. He couldn't help sneezing as he sifted through the junk. There were no biscuits.

"Tell you what. Take the lot for 10. I was gonna throw it out, anyhow."

"But it hasn't got any biscuits. "

"And!? Maybe you can exchange something for biscuits."

"Err, okay. Thanks? I think." Jeff threw the coins on the counter and gently lifted the box, careful for it not to fall apart. He made for the door, sneezing on the way out.

"Bless you," said Ted.

Maybe the old guy was right, perhaps there was something in the box which would interest someone. But he guessed not. His instincts lay heavy on the latter.

+++

"What is that, Jeff?"

"It looks like a letter, Bob."

They stood on opposite sides of the box in their sparsely furnished office inside the main complex. Bob dropped the letter on the plain metallic plastic table and sat in one of two matching uncomfortable plastic chairs. Jeff stayed standing. He'd whipped himself too much this morning due to his overindulgence of cheese the night before. Possibly that was what drove him to the shop for biscuits.

"No, Jeff, it was not a letter."

Jeff hated his fellow older and more worn colleague with a vengeance. Praying never helped. Banging him on the head with a hammer never helped, either. Hate loved to hate, hate, hate. The voices in his head had never once sent him a sign to stop. No stop sign. "What is it, then?" He scratched at his sores under his brown nylon uniform designed for unpleasantness and irritation.

"It's a bill. For the renovation of a bell." Bob picked it up to show Jeff.

"Oh, it's a bell's bill. I was wondering when someone would find one." He reached for it but Bob didn't give it.

"How much did you pay for all this?" asked Bob, looking at the box.

"It's not about money..." said Jeff under his breath.

"Excuse me? It is about money, Jeff. It's all about money. And that is why we cannot afford having an old bell renovated."

"What?"

"Whatever. What else is in here?"

"Not a biscuit," said Jeff.

"Hey, there's a book." Bob took it out and rubbed the front cover. "What the f...?" Bob turned unexpectedly, slipped and fell to the ground. For a moment, Jeff sat and watched Bob's limp body on the floor of the office. Any witnesses?

"You know, Bob, a good friend is one that knows your stories, a best friend is one who helped you make them...but the best friend is one who keeps them a secret." Jeff got up from his uncomfortable chair, scooped up the book from the floor and dropped it back into the box. With a sigh and one last look at the lying Bob, he picked up the box and made for the door.

+++

Now it was getting to become a little monotonous. The beach was pleasant. Beach being the small patch of smooth sand outside Paddy's dome with the sunshade jammed in next to the worn blue recliner. If it weren't for the dead body in all its glory Jeff would have loved to spend more time there.

"Strange, so strange. I'm telling ya, Paddy," said Jeff, taking a sip from the dirty half-filled glass of moonshine Paddy had given him not one minute ago. "You can't have a shit on this planet without someone telling you what you had for dinner the day before. Now someone goes and dies... and nothing. Two die. My bad."Jeff turned his head. "How can you tell?" He turned it back. "It's a guess, I guess." He grabbed Paddy's backscratcher and poked the body. The book lay next to Paddy. "What is it with this book?" He drank the moonshine down and looked into the distance. One more turn of the head. "Only a blind person would fall off this cliff."Reaching further with the backscratcher, Jeff clawed the book and dragged it back over. All this for a biscuit? How did it go?

Hi, hi. How's it going? Good. What'ya got there, Jeff? A box. What's in the box, Jeff? Not a biscuit. A biscuit? No, not a biscuit. Then what? A few things. Have you got a biscuit, Paddy? Who's asking? Me. Jeff. Ah, so, what's in the box? Come and have a look.

And that was it. After handing over a drink, Paddy took out a few things from the box, a rusty piece of useless metal which he cut his finger on, a paper concerning some old forgotten lease... and the book. Jeff took his eye off Paddy for a second and the next thing was the guy was down. A heel was broken off his right shoe. The day was starting to become a heel.

+++

Jeff sighed in despair. The Doc was in, loud and obnoxious as ever. He sat at his table which served as a bar. Jeff had put the dirty box beside him on the floor and ordered a drink. A bottle flew through the air and Jeff caught it, popping off the cap with the side of the chair and chugging a good portion in one motion. The Doc glanced at him for a moment, smiled and went back to his topic of the moment, whatever that could be.

"The Tempest. A strange play, a collection of all the elements, all the characters Shakey had ever used in his works. And that last speech? Where Prospero addresses the audience? That's Shakey saying 'Thanks for the money and goodbye'. Ha."

Jeff didn't wish to continue listening to the Doc's rant, but the Doc continued on.

"Never really got into him, myself. Too many big words. I'm scared of big words."

"But you're a doctor," stated Jeff.

"Yes, and that's why. Let's leave that theory there, okay?"

"Yes, let's," Jeff murmered, who noticed the Doc taking an interest in the box.

"Oh, Jeff. What's in the box?"

"Among other things, a book," said Jeff. Chancing it.

"Really? Where did you get the box?"

"In Ted's shop. Said I could take it." The Doc stared at the box, no motions nor emotions. Jeff opened the lid and rumaged inside while trying not to hurt his fingers, feeling for the spine of the book. Carefully lifting it out, he showed it to the Doc.

"What's that?" asked the Doc.

"A book?"replied Jeff.

"The title?"

"I have no idea."

"What, can't you read?" asked the Doc, chuckling to himself. Jeff considered it but was reminded of the two bodies. He chose to pass it over to the Doc instead. Jeff was a little surprised when the Doc was able to flip it open and squint at a few pages. The Doc threw the book onto the floor next to his desk and pushed the book shut with his walking stick.

"What did you do that for?" asked Jeff, wondering how on earth had the Doc not died. The Doc gave a laugh.

"Whoever wrote this, they've got lousy handwriting. I can't read it. Or maybe my eyes aren't right today." Jeff saw the Doc was staring into his corrupt soul. "Am I the first person to see this book today?" Jeff couldn't lie. He shook his head. "What am I? The second? Third? Fourth?"

"Third," confessed Jeff.

"And what happened... no, I already know." The Doc flicked the book across the floor and back to the box with his stick. "Please put it back into the box before it hurts anyone else." How did he know? Why did he know? What did he know? More than Jeff did.

"What... what is it, Doc?" asked Jeff, making sure he didn't make eye contact with the hard-backed literary piece of work.

"There are things here which must be left alone. Life. A journey to nowhere, with no one, for nothing, except to breathe another breath, live until our death. Alone. And that is how this book must be kept. Alone. Without prying eyes." The Doc rested his head on his desk. "Besides, it's bad manners to read another man's journal."

"It's a journal?"

"Yes. And no. Would you like to find out?" The Doc gestured for Jeff to take the book out once more. Instinctively, he took it out and placed it on the table.

"Err, no."

"Good, you're learning." The Doc glanced at the book's cover. "My question is, why did you take the box from Ted?"

"No biscuits."

"Quite. It's colder inside than outside in the rain."

"Rain?"

They sat there drinking from their bottles until the sun went down through the aluminium shine of the dome. Jeff pushed the box away with his foot and they watched the darkness creep over the hard-backed cover of the book, tempting them both to look inside.

#

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# **List of Elements** **from Michael Pitman's** Iron Writer Weekly Challenges

21 October 2019 - a television, sweater, cookie jar and hand-sewn quilt, and a picture of a man running through shallow water.

28 October 2019 – a person who realizes they can't do something anymore because of something (age, disability, accident, marriage), an apartment, a motorcycle and newspaper, and a picture of fishing tackle.

4 November 2019 – a person who realizes they can't do something anymore because of something (age, disability, accident, marriage), a china cabinet, screen door and bedroom, and a picture of a woman, sinking in water.

11 November 2019 - a character that gives everyone a nickname, and a couch, back door and magazine, and a picture of a parrot on a perch.

18 November 2019 - someone who lost their job, green army men, a front door, a cellphone, and a picture of a man sleeping in a blanket with a baby sleeping on him.

25 November 2019 - someone who tries too hard to fit in, a school bus, a baseball hat, a sweat shirt, and a picture of a man, a woman and a pug sitting on a sofa drinking coffee.

2 December 2019 - a professor (any type of professor), a pair of pants, a rock, a bow tie and a picture of a child colouring in Christmas pictures.

9 December 2019 - someone who hits the lottery, a burned down home, a hat, a wing-back chair and a picture of a girl who trying to gain attention.

16 December 2019 - someone with a disability (physical or developmental), an earthquake, a blanket, a train and a picture of a guy standing on a metro platform.

23 December 2019 - a woman who's leaving (could be someone, somewhere, something, etc), a folding chair, a van, a convertible, and a picture of a boy giving something to a soldier in the desert.

30 December 2019 - a woman or man scorned, a dining room, a trophy, a sleeping bag, and a picture of yellow taxis in a big city.

6 January 2020 - a homeless person, a restaurant, a house, a pickup truck and a picture of a kitten.

13 January 2020 - a petty thief, a flat tyre, a baseball hat, chicken noodle soup and a picture of a woman looking out of an open French window wearing only a shirt.

20 January 2020 - an MMA or boxer (active, retired, has-been, wannabe, never-was.etc.), money, music, a love interest and a picture of a man doing pushups with dumbells.

27 January 2020 \- a firefighter, a coffee cup, a chest of drawers, a small city and a picture of a swam in water.

3 February 2020 \- a cat who ran away from home, a sweatshirt, a chair, a medium-sized city, and a picture of a woman half inside a washing machine in a launderette.

10 February 2020 - someone scorned, ubiquity (or the idea of it), an economic recession, and social media that a picture of a list of exchanging sorry phrases for thank you.

17 February 2020 \- a former athlete, a helicopter, poker, the term "piss and vinegar" and a picture of two dogs and their owner in a convertible.

24 February 2020 - **a criminal, a country of your choice, a river, pretzels, and a picture of a woman reading a book blindfolded.**

2 March 2020 - **a serial killer (as a main character), a big city, a sleeping bag, depression, and a picture of a woman sitting on a wall looking at a far away city.**

9 March 2020 - **a CEO, a helmet, a small town/community, poverty and a picture of two smiling and wet Asian girls sitting in a puddle in the rain under a large leaf held by the eldest.**

16 March 2020 – a cop, a president of a club and a school principal, who are all in an escape room, and a picture of an empty, derelict warehouse.

23 March 2020 – a goldfish, a cat who ran away from home, a teacher, an ubiquitous object, and a picture of three apples on 4 school diaries with chalk and a pair of scissors on a teacher's desk.

30 March 2020 – a deck of cards, the phrase "since Moby Dick was a minnow," a burrito, a serial killer (as a minor character), and a picture of glass broken by a bullet or small stone.

13 April 2020 – a dog urinating on a fire hydrant, a cat who ran away from home, a loved one (non-related), a high school principal, and a picture of a woman stretching out her arms on the beach as the sun goes down.

20 April 2020 – solitude, a video chat, an airport/airplane, a song you can't get out of your head, and a picture of a man wearing a hat and jacket, and smoking a cigarette.

4 May 2020 – a small alpha dog, adult children, a birthday party and a picture of an unfinished road with a 'road closed' sign.

12 May 2020 – **a mysterious video message (either on phone or via email), a scorned lover, an empty park at night, and a picture of a boy looking through a hole from inside a cardboard box.**

18 May 2020 – **Write about how the sun rose in the west and set in the east one day, which causes a huge problem among the animals on the planet -- including some humans, and a picture of wind blowing in from the sea on a large beach.**

25 May 2020 – there is a rumor of your death circulating on social media (What are people saying about you, and how do they react after they realize they were duped and you're actually alive? Are your friends going to be stronger, or former friends?) and a picture of lines of candles.

25 May 2020 (second) – the setting is a rally or protest. While multiple people are live streaming (Facebook Live, Instagram Live, etc.) the event and they invade each other's "broadcast" space.

15 June 2020 – a conversation with a developmentally disabled person and the lessons you could learn from them and the lessons they learn from you. Make sure to include how you met and your relationship (friends, mentor/mentee, parent/child, acquaintances, etc.), and a picture of a man helping an older man swing a baseball bat.

**List of Elements from** 1500 words (or less) an Iron Writer Spinoff

3 April 2020 - a chocolate Easter bunny, a hurricane, something canary yellow and a photo showing a cloudy sky over trees.

19 April 2020 a divining rod, Victory in Europe Day, a severe thunderstorm warning, something multi-colored and a picture of a hand on piano keys.

**List of Prompts from '** More Odds than Ends' website

1 January 2020 - Describe an undercover police officer disguised as a homeless man through the eyes of someone who is able to recognize him as a cop.

8 January 2020 - The reactions of passers-by to a woman walking a three foot tall elephant on a leash.

15 January 2020 - You cook (and/or bake) for stress relief. You've just had the worst day of your life. What happened, and what are you making?

22 January 2020 - Dragons are real, and there's now one curled up at your front door like a stray cat demanding a home.

29 January 2020 - The War Dept of the USA ceased to exist by that name in 1947. It is now 2020 (or further along...) and in today's mail you received a *recently* dated letter from the War Department...

5 February 2020 - A practice funeral? Well, your friend says he wants to be sure everyone knows what he wants for his funeral, so he's invited everyone for a dry run. However, he didn't expect...

12 February 2020 - He blinked when the other three lab assistants walked up and one stretched out a tentacle holding a beaker full of the latest nanotech mixture. They all smiled with both mouths and blinked all three eyes as they said, "Here, you should try this. We all did..."

19 February 2020 - You become acquainted with Steve, the racoon who lives in your backyard.

26 February 2020 - The giants wearing Santa Claus outfits stomped into the park and sat down, then demanded treats... "Or we'll trick y'a!" Go ahead and describe the scene, from the POV of a first responder, a kid watching, a bystander, a politician... just about anyone you like...

5 March 2020 - Finally asleep, when the cat throws up beside the bed at 1:47 am. I know, because I look at the clock before I remember I don't have a cat...

11 March 2020 - You see a stranger in your neighborhood getting out of a taxi with three heavy laundry bags. You know the nearby laundromat is closed for renovations. As you walk over to tell the stranger, you realize one of the laundry bags is moving, as if someone is struggling inside it. What do you do?

18 March 2020 - You open the closet because your child is scared, and... there is a monster inside!

25 March 2020 - The editor was hard to please, but that might have been because he had been dead for years.

1 April 2020 - When the Space Force reached the rings of Saturn, they were surprised to find the missing socks from centuries of washing...

8 April 2020 - Salesmen quit bothering Mr. Winkler after he taught his dog how to use a machine gun...

15 April 2020 - While dressing the frog in the bunny costume, he discovered that the leggings had velcro snaps too!

22 April 2020 - At the 10 year, 20 year, and 50 year high school reunions, almost everyone changed. Joey, though, was still the same teenager they had graduated with so many years ago...

29 April 2020 - You ordered seeds online. They looked a little strange when you opened the package, but you planted them anyway. When they sprout...

6 May 2020 \- The kitten strikes at dawn...

13 May 2020 \- Hard hats, orange warning vests, the crew working on the roadside was so ordinary that no one gave them a second look. Two days later, though, the road...

20 May 2020 \- Your shoes go for a walk. Without you.

27 May 2020 \- Dinosaur fossils are actually the discarded bones from giant alien picnickers visiting Earth.

3 June 2020 \- When they opened the door of the closet, a body fell out. Dead.

10 June 2020 \- The special delivery envelope had one jigsaw puzzle piece in it.

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**Biography**

After a lifetime of reading clones and two decades of proofreading coffee table books, Dani started writing, completing novels, novelettes and hundreds of Flash Fiction stories. When not putting finger to keyboard, reading, teaching, proofreading, washing up, hoovering, and driving, he is busy with his loving and long-suffering family.

Novels and Novellas

Man by a Tree

The Bethlehem Fiasco

The Rage of Atlantis

TDX2

Manna-X

How to Build a Castle in Seven Easy Steps

Alice on the Outside-In

All For Love

How to Sink a Ship (in eight long, excruciatingly terrifying, stinkingly evil nights)

Blue Haze

Gubacsi Dulu (SOON TO COME!)

...hundreds of pieces of flash fiction in the self-published...

Dani's Shorts (1 to 8)

Six More Fantastic Short Stories No One Gives a F#ck About

Five Murdered Shakespearean Plays

...and a ton of flash fiction in...

Ironology 2014: The Iron Writer Championship Series (TIW Anthology) (Volume 1)

Ironology 2015: The Iron Writer Challenge (Ironology - The Iron Writer Challenge)

Ironology 2016

Ironology 2017

... and single short stories in many anthologies...

Itty Bitty Writing Space: 104 Stories by 104 Authors (Flash in a Flash)

CEA Greatest Anthology Written

FLASH!: A celebration of short-short fiction

Baby Shoes: 100 Stories by 100 Authors

Spectrum: A Colorful Collection of SmartyPants' Best (SmartyPants Spectrum Book 1)

Circuits & Steam

Desert Bus

DISARM: A Gun Sense Anthology (Black Heart Digital Anthologies Book 2)

Christmas Lites V

One Star Reviews of the Afterlife (Alternate Hilarities) (Volume 5)

Everything I Need to Know About Love I Learned From Pop Songs

The Indie Collaboration Presents: Tales From Darker Places: A Chilling Horror Anthology

Tales from Even Darker Places: The 13th Halloween Collection (The Indie Collaboration Presents)

Sugar, Spice and Everything Nice: A Second Children's Story Collection (The Indie Collaboration Presents Book 9)

Spectacular Tales 2: The Science Fiction and Fantasy Collection (The Indie Collaboration Presents Book 10)

Summer Shorts 2 (The Indie Collaboration Presents Book 11)

72 Hours of Insanity: Anthology of the Games (Volume 2)

Coming soon...

Gubacsi Dulu (Parts 2 and 3)

How to float your boat (under eleven odourless green, deliciously lavish, ostentaciously lucid, ubiquitously authentically omnipotent skies)

The Beginning of Something Better

FLASH (No.4) anthology

Blog: https://danijcaile.blogspot.com/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/jedlica

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DaniJCaile

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