Flash Fiction-Week 09-200 words 

It was done. There was no other answer. Jack had gotten away with the humiliation of others for too long. Why a person would even think like that in the first place, I can’t imagine. But then to carry it to the extreme of firing them and ruining their lives? I can’t stand the thought of him getting away with it again.

John got into his car and sped out of the parking lot. He was not looking forward to telling his wife what he did. But he was almost proud of himself for having the courage to do it. He would find a different job in a new area. This small town isn’t capable of fighting people like Jack. 

Discrimination is just a distant word that happens to other people. It’s okay to hire others when crops need harvesting, but to work alongside these people all year in regular jobs was unheard of. They were good for a time, but when school started, their kids mixed in with your kids. This wasn’t acceptable in rural areas.

John drove home, not exactly sure of his wife’s reaction. She greeted him with her usual hug. “I quit today”, he said sadly.


Daily Prompt:  Hideout

In the seventies, we had a home with a treehouse in the garage. We called it the treehouse but it was actually a wooden structure in the rafters. It was big enough to sleep in and had a trap door. That’s all that was needed for our two boys to make mischief in their secret hideout. Of course I have only found out years later all the activities that occurred there. Every family get together there is usually another misadventure revealed. I’m just glad they survived these hideout happenings.



“Every little breeze seems to whisper Louise”🎼 Nah, just kidding. You know your age is showing when a word first brings to mind a song from 1929. No, I wasn’t alive then, but our family was a lover of music, songs and musical movies. 

There’s hardly a moment without a breeze here in Wyoming. I’m far enough east of the mountains to not have their protection. Winds here last night gusted at seventy-five miles per hour. Just on the news:  our area has been chosen for airplane testing in wind conditions!  

The corridor between apartment buildings offers a nice “breezeway” for them. The worst nuisance besides not being able to maintain any type of hairstyle, is the dust/dirt that invades my living room from between the weatherstripping on my door. I can either endure that daily hassle or have the door so tight I can’t open it. Such is apartment life.



The woods for me are someone else’s forest. A forest sounds like a nice, neat, safe plot of trees, well maintained. Woods are unsculptured, huge, dark, secretive places that you might not want to venture in at night. The forest has patches of openness, sunny spots, and you might see a knight prancing along on his white steed. The woods are home to gnarled tree trunks, overbearing evergreens, and spreading, unkempt roots. Here you might see a red eyed, ratty furred wolf, or sleeping bats hanging from the branches. The forest might have a few flowering bushes, well trimmed, while in the woods you may see thorny brambles with poisonous berries.
I ask you, forest? Or woods?