The folks of Gold Plains are a peculiar bunch. They have managed to avoid the notoriety attributed to more famous spots like Roswell, Area 51 and Mount Rainier, while carrying on an oral tradition of the first sighting and the “visitors”.

Of particular note, if you happen to be traveling through Gold Plains, is the odd looking tower situated prominently in the downtown square. If you ask a local about it, you’ll get a grin and a nod, but no real explanation. The base of the tower is simply inscribed, “The First Pod – September 1945”.

I visited Gold Plains quite by accident a year ago when my car broke down. Everyone was very pleasant and helpful, but I couldn’t help feeling like an outsider.

It’s strange. Since my visit, I have been having odd dreams and feel compelled to return. That, and the odd mark on the back of my neck. At first I thought it was an insect bite. Now, I’m not so sure…

kat ~ 29 December 2015

A story for Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer’s last prompt of 2015! Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting these fun challenges. If you would like to read other stories prompted by the photo you see above, provided by Sonya of the blog Only 100 Words, click HERE.

“I’m George, kitty in charge, and I am going to make sure this Santa Claus dude remembers that I live here. I have always lived here…even before they brought Doofus over there home. Well, they call him Douglas. The thing is, he gets all the good stuff now. Hey what am I? Chopped tuna?”

“So I put together a list. Nothing fancy. I like those feather toys and the crunchy treats. Uh, and Santa? If you could slip me a bit of catnip I might survive all the gaiety around here and make it to next year! Merry Merry!”

kat ~ 24 December 2015
(100 Words)

A story for Rochelle Wiseoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers Flash Fiction Challenge. If you’d like to read more click HERE.

 

 

She visits him every day in the prison. People struggle to understand how she could. He was, after all responsible for the death of her son.

Rainy days are especially hard, because it was raining on the night of the accident. Josh was driving a bit too fast around that curve. And Jeffrey? If only he had been wearing his seatbelt that night, he wouldn’t have been thrown from the car when it hit the tree.

She used to replay the accident and the trial in her mind on the long walks to the prison. Sometimes the grief and bitterness would overcome her and she would have to stop for a moment to regain her composure. But not anymore. No, not anymore.

Time and grace have helped her to embrace the gift of forgiveness. The more she got to know Josh, the more she realized how alike he and Jeffrey are.  They were best friends after all. In a small way Josh connects her to the son she lost. And so she visits every day.

kat ~ 23 December 2015
(175 Words)

A story for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW). Thanks Priceless Joy for this week’s challenge and also to Etol Bagam for this beautiful thought-provoking prompt!q if you’d loke to read other stories or enter your own, click HERE.

He didn’t have one of those gross stick-on beards, and he even spoke Spanish to the little girl three kids up. That could only mean one thing. He just might be the “real” Santa.

Hannah would know for sure soon. The real Santa would know her name, without her telling it, of course.

When Hannah’s turn came, Santa bellowed,. “Ho ho ho! Aren’t you a pretty girl. What’s your name?”

Hannah scowled. Just as she had suspected. An imposter! She stood her ground. She wasn’t about to share her secret wish with a fake Santa!

But Santa was a wise old elf. He had faced this test before. So intent was Hannah’s stare down that she hardly noticed his split second glance toward her Mom who mouthed, “Hannah,” from behind.

With a twinkle in his eye, tilting his head, Santa finally said, “Hmmmm…I believe you are Hannah. Am I right?”

Delighted, Hannah hopped onto Santa’s lap and whispered her secret wish in his ear. It would most certainly come true. Santa’s wink and nod at Hannah’s mom assured it.

kat ~ 22 December 2015
(182 Words)

This story is in response to Sunday Photo Fiction’s Weekly Challenge. To read more stories or enter your own based on the photo prompt above, click HERE.

It had been a long day of waiting. Crumpled snack wrappers and empty soda cans cluttered the end tables already stacked with out-of-date magazines. Eventually everyone from both sides of our immediate families had gathered to welcome my first grandchild. There was another family waiting too, but we were a formidable crowd, laying claim to most of the available seating. 

Finally word came that she was here! The excitement was palpable. When the next pink bundle was presented, we rushed the window to see her. 

But something felt wrong. Not one of us felt warm and fuzzy about this baby. 

“Who do you think she looks like?” 

“I’m not sure. Her eyes look like…never mind. I thought maybe Uncle George, but he was an honorary uncle, dad’s best friend.”

“Her mouth sort of looks like…no…not really…hmmm…”

“She looks kinda weird if you ask me. Not like any of us.”

“Her face is too long. Who’s nose is that?”

I tapped on the glass to get the attention of the attending nurse, “The Jones’ baby? Is this the Jones’ baby?” 

She nodded “yes”.

Clearly, she couldn’t hear me. I persisted, spelling out, “J.O.N.E.S? Mother’s name Terry? Dad’s name, Chris?”

The nurse paused. Finally comprehending, she mouthed, “No.”

Our entire entourage sighed loudly in relief. A few “thank god’s” we’re muttered. As we scattered back to our seats, I noticed the other family patiently waiting in the corner. 

Smiling sheepishly I said, “I think this baby might be yours.”

kat ~ 19 December 2015

(259 Words)

A story in response to Ronovan Writes Friday Fiction Challenge. This week’s prompt was to write about a family gathering. If you’d like to read other stories or write your own, click HERE.