photo by Cathal Mac an Bheatha via Unsplash
Years later, after completing culinary school, she returned home, purchased the old storefront and reclaimed the space for a restaurant specializing in vegan fare.
She kept the neon sign as a novelty and called her place “Fresh Meets”.
kat ~ 24 March 2017
For Sonya’s Three Line Tale challenge based on the photo above by Cathal Mac an Bheatha.
For Jane Dougherty’s Sunday Strange Challenge based on this painting by Ford Madox Brown.
Painting by Ford Madox Brown – Pretty Baa-Lambs
“Pretty Baa-Lambs” her mother said, “baa, baa, baa. Penny can you say it? What do the pretty lambs say?”
Penny was not having it. Her mother called her stubborn. Maybe she was, but Penny did not like this new game her mother always wanted to play.
“Momma,” her Mother would say, leaning in closer, eyes bulging, mouth puckering, smacking the syllables in a grotesque litany of sound bites, “Maaa…mmm…aaa…mAAA…mmmm…AAA.”
It was a never-ending battle. Everything, it seemed had a name. There was a word for each want. “Why wasn’t crying and cooing enough? It had always worked in the past. What was it with these people?” Penny thought to herself as she continued her resistance.
Then one day she heard a lovely word. An amazing word! It was not her mother, but her father who uttered it loud and clear for Penny to hear.
“I like that word.” Penny thought. She decided to say her new favorite word the next time her mother started one of her sound-it-out-say-it, ‘momma’ rants.
For her very first word, Penny smiled innocently at her mother, eyes wide with excitement, as she curled her tongue back and set her top two teeth into a perfect overbite…”FUCK!”
Penny had never seen her mother react so. It was wonderful! So wonderful, she repeated it over and over again, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She was a proud baby that day. Very proud indeed!
~kat – 23 March 2017
PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll
Once upon a time, my halls sang with laughter. My kitchen hummed, percolated and crackled, steamy and aromatic; hints of cinnamon, coffee, fresh bread and bacon.
Tea was served every afternoon in my parlor. Gossip dripped like venom from the rouged lips of fine ladies in flowery frocks, their white-gloved pinkies lifted properly as they sipped from china cups. My study still smells of sweet, fine cigars from nights when distinguished gentleman gathered after dinner to discuss the politics of the day.
These days people do their living outside my iron gates; sleeping with me, then leaving.
~kat – 23 March 2017
(97 Words)
For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers 100 word story challenge based on the photo above by J. Hardy Carroll.
breezes never blow
they whisper in soft kisses
like feathers on skin
Breeze by, nose upturned,
you haughty, self-righteous snobs!
Your attitude blows!
kat – 22 March 2017
For Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge, prompt words Breeze & Blow.
For Haiku Horizon’s Challenge based on the word, “Search”.
robins search for grub
first to root in frosted earth
sucks to be a worm
wise seekers all know
sometimes what you search most for
is not what you need
~kat – 22 March 2017
like mercury colliding... 