Weekly Challenge #328 – Fair

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

This is Weekly Challenge Number Three Hundred and Twenty-Eight, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

The topic this week was Fair.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:

myst on bricks

CIRCE

Look Here

Damn it, we are going to hell in a handbasket. We suffer storms never before at

such wide destrution.. (unless you count the Great Flood, of the Noah story).. We

go to see a movie and get mowed down like in a class B gangster movie.. We have to

be careful to be very PC about how we talk about that.. And oh, don’t eat Chick Fil

A … but HEY, try to remember that we are supposed to have the right to our own

opinion, and freedom of speech and what the hell has happened to us? Oh, my God!

LIZZIE

The Drama Fair promised to be thrilling; stress, arguments, misunderstandings, all in one place and for such a low price too. He checked the ticket, 1W. That was odd, in the chart the rows went up to 100M. He didn’t remember a W. But he followed the signs and eventually saw an arrow pointing him in the right direction. When he got to his place, he saw no one. “Where’s the drama?” The place was empty. He looked around and found a sign saying “Warning, enforced no drama area”. “What?! Damn it. I knew I shouldn’t have bought the cheapest ticket…”

THOMAS

Blond and fair, button nose. Lovely wrote poems, read them from her iPad. She read at the First Friday Open Mic Night. She stood close to the microphone, almost touching it with her glossy lips. She tossed her hair. Once, twice. We could hear her breathing as she read each line. From the back of the room, her friends snapped photos of her at the podium. It was like a rock concert. Lovely’s poems were desperate and insipid. We tried to be polite. Clapped when she finished. She curtsied, and I tasted a little bile in my mouth. Coffeehouse poet.

##

A fair weather friend, Norvil only called if he wanted to borrow the lawnmower, or to ask if I would pick something up for him next time I’m at the big hardware store in the city. I wouldn’t see him for months, and then the call. “Can I borrow your extension ladder. Yes? OK. Do you have a spare paint roller and pan? Great. I’ll be out, but if you can bring them over, my wife is home. Just leave them around back. Great. Super. Oh…your rose bush is hanging over the side fence. Do you mind cutting it back?”

##

Mrs. Frye was not fair at all. She taught American History, and relied on the rote method for everything. She tolerated no humor or anyone getting out of their seat. I would be out of my seat all the time. I was bored, and I hated the topic. She taught, but I didn’t learn. I used the class period to write in my notebook, copy gunpowder formulas out of the encyclopedias, or to go up behind Shirley Ragsdale and squeeze a bosom or two, and sometimes put a wet finger in her ear and wiggle it until she cried out.

SHRUTI

According to the advertisements she should have been 3 shades fairer by now. If only for once they told the truth. She’d tried all her grandmother’s recipes of milk, honey, lemon juice and what not. None of it had worked.

She turned 25 in September. If she didn’t find a match soon, the only eligible men would be divorcees and widowers. Her father would never hear of it.

To add to her troubles, societal norms said Ajay and Priya couldn’t get married until she, the elder sister was settled.

She looked at her dusky reflection and sighed…

Life wasn’t fair.

JEFFREY

When we were growing up, my kid brother Dan and I had very different approaches to getting Halloween loot. I’d carefully plan a lengthy evening, hitting a lot of houses – and I knew who gave out the good stuff, the Snickers and Reese’s Cups, not toothbrushes and that godawful Mike & Ike crap. Dan would hit a handful of our neighbors and call it a night.

Then the fun would begin. Against my protests, our parents would combine the candy and reallocate it between the two of us (snagging some of the best pieces for themselves, I might add). I might have done 70% of the work, but I ended up with less than half the haul.

“That’s not fair!” I’d whine, but of course Dan didn’t see it that way. “He’s your brother,” Mom always said, “so you need to split things with him.” I’d mutter under my breath, but my parents enforced their rule. As I got older, I realized the only thing I could do was to hit fewer houses, so my pile slowly shrank.

Now I run a successful business. Dan is a politician. I guess some things never change.

SERENDIPITY

The young woman arrived in the village in the early Autumn. Fayewren – for that was the maiden’s name – was fair and fresh of face, unlike the dark-skinned, ruddy-cheeked women of the village. Her flaxen tresses framed her delicate face; her lips, like rose petals, adorning her porcelain skin.

The young men, of course, entranced by her presence, followed her like puppy dogs, but they were charmless and uncouth in her sight – quite simply, she was the very epitome of beauty and grace.

We fed her to the dragon anyway – well, fair maidens are devilishly hard to come by!

TOM

“Fair is Fair,” yelled Frankie firing a burst of 9mms into the void.

“Fair is Fair,” screamed Johnnie returning the volley with a round of full metal jackets.

Next came a sortie of tow missiles followed by a barrage of MGM-51s.

“Whimp,” bellowed Frankie letting loose of his scuds.

“Pussy,” mocked Johnnies sending his Russian ICBMs into the black.

“Take, This,” ragged Frankie powering up his imperial death star.

“OH Yea,” railed Johnnie engaging his Ming the Merciless death ray.

Both of them hit the Super String Triple K Electron Resequencer button simultaneously. From the void came, “You missed.”

MUNSI

Fair?

Where does fairness become relevant?

Nobody ever said life was fair.

Nasty? Sure, life’s that. Brutish? Absolutely. Short? Oh yes, far too short. Doesn’t seem short at first, but as you live you realize it’s shorter than any man can reasonably bear.

But fair? No. It’s unreasonable to even hope it might be. I’ve no idea who’s been filling your head with such nonsense. Fairness…

Oh, I said life was fair? When did I say that?

Yesterday?

Oh, yeah, I vaguely recall that.

I lied.

People lie sometimes, get over it.

After all, nobody ever said life was fair.

TURA

There were a human, a Ferengi, and a Klingon. They plotted to hijack a spaceship and steal its cargo of unrefined dilithium. The human’s subterfuge got them on board undetected. The Klingon overcame the crew. The Ferengi was able to get the best black market price for the dilithium.

To divide the spoils, the human proposed, “We should have equal shares. That is fair.”

The Ferengi responded, “No! Without me, you could never have got such a good price. I claim half! That is fair!”

The Klingon drew his disruptor and killed them. He roared, “may ‘oH! Hoch vItlhap jItlhInganmo’!”*

(*) “THAT is fair! I take everything, because I am a Klingon!”

YORDIE

Uncle Bill told us we were going to stop at Mr. Gawddamnit’s house so he’d open the gate.

Cousin Michael asked, “who is Mr. Gawddamnit?”

Aunt Annie explained, “When Mr. Gawddamnit was a boy he got hit in the head with an axe. He lived but afterward the first word he said was ‘gawddamnit.’ And he never stopped.”

Uncle Bill said, don’t annoyed him because he’s crazy.

We arrived at Mr. Gawddamnit’s gate. He said, “Gawddamnit hey Mr. Bill!” and “Gawddamnit got that gate!”

We drove through and the man looked at us. He said, “Gawddamnit Miss Annie… pretty kids!”

CLIFF

Mirror mirror on the wall.
Who’s the fairest of them all?
The butcher is a man quite sound.
He sells meat by the honest pound

Mirror why do you vex?
I mean fairest of the fairer sex!
The barmaid by the name of Sal
Whether you’re drunk or straight, she’s an honest gal.

Mirror when I speak of fair,
I speak of beauty, skin and hair.
But my queen, you can’t deny
That beauty’s in the beholders eye.

Mirror, I’ve a hammer here
Now can you make your answer clear?
Oh, now I understand,
You’re the fairest in the land.

ZACKMANN

“I need your fare if you want to ride this shuttle to the ticket gate
but if you don’t want to pay it is less than a two miles away. Since
it is such a fare day you might enjoy the walk.” said the shuttle
driver.
“Fair is fair, I will be doing a fair amount of walking already,
Hopefully enough to walk off the deep fried fare. Last year my diet
did not fare well and my fare wife threatened to find me a fair deal
on a hog scale if I didn’t stop eating too much fair food.”

BOTGIRL

“So you don’t have any money?” he crooned in an oily voice that made her cringe right down to her painted toes. “That’s fine. I’m sure we can figure out a fair trade.”

She wanted to run. She wanted to hide. She wanted to choke the leer out of his little weasel eyes. But she hurt. Hurt bad.

“I guess a loan’s out of the question?” she joked. Stalling.

“You’ll get what you want when I get what I want,” he said, unzipping his pants.

“Fine,” she sighed, forcing down the bile in her throat. “Bend over you little bitch.”

SEVI AND BONCHANCE

Fair by Sevi and BC

At the edge of the woods, a fun house stood near the fair.
A dishevelled clown stood at the entrance luring people in with an evil grin.
Admission was 50 cents.

Clumsy reeked of drink, people were put off.
The next day, a new sign. “Free Puppies on Exit”

Sally paid. She almost made it to the exit alive.
A few feet from the exit, she noticed the decaying skeletons.

Suddenly 13 ferocious snarling little puppies, led by Pablo and Espi’s lil Pepe rushed towards Sally.
Screams pierced the air as sharp milk teeth sunk into her tender soft skin.

Fair by Sevi and BC

Tom knew life wasn’t fair. His existence was filled with hardships,
He called orphanages some sort of “home” since a wee boy.

By 9 years old, an accomplished thief, his first murder at age 12.
Tom lived tough, never expecting or giving any kindness in his life.

Standing at the gallows, he reminisced as the executioner tightened the noose.
His reverie was interrupted by the warden saying: “As a courtesy sir, do you have any last words?”
He shook his head no, thinking to himself….. FINALLY!
The executioner later remarked seeing Tom smiling as the death hood slipped into place.

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

Randoph growled from behind the curtain. “It isn’t right.” He tensed, but I restrained him with a hand.

“Not yet, brother.” Our nostrils flared with the smells of teenagers drenched in perfume and desperate older women. “Not yet.”

The movie marathon paused before the final film.

“Now,” I said, extending my fangs as, under the moonlight, Randolph’s fur sprouted from his skin.

We strode before the screen, sparkling body lotion glittering, the crowd going wild.

Afterward, Randolph kept muttering. “Still not right. We deserve more than minimum wage.”

“Plus tips,” I said, retrieving dollar bills from my pants. “Plus tips.”

REDGODDESS

This month, the state transportation authority raises the fares for buses and trains. They triple the price for seniors and students. In some areas, bus routes are restricted. Commuters take to the streets. They jump the turnstiles to show these power hungry executives they are fed up. Lola sees all sides of the argument even though she too, will be affected by these changes. She wonders how is it fair for people to choose whether to buy groceries, medications or pay for a damn bus pass? It seems these transportation managers cut their sense of decency with the annual budget.

ANIMA ZABALETA

Lulu is a grand mountain of a madam.

She’s housemother for the trapeze girls, the one they come to for emotional support when the applause and the their looks begin to fade.
Lu feeds the lions and tigers, tossing hefty bales of catnip to her “kitties”.
She always has a pot of verbena tea brewing, with maybe a drop of something stronger for the Midway barkers when their throats are raw.
Lulu is fearless as she chides the Ringmaster when he is being overly arrogant.

She might have a beard and weigh 700 pounds, but she is my fair lady.

DANNY

The Fairness Doctrine, meant to ensure that a variety of views, beyond those of the licensees and those they favored, were heard on our airwaves. In August 1987, the FCC abolished the Fairness doctrine by a 4-0 vote. This allowed Newt Gingrich, in the GOPAC memo of 1994, to strongly advocate describing Democrats as decay, failure, collapse, deeper, crisis, urgency, destructive, sick, pathetic, liberal, betray, shallow, traitors, and sensationalists. This position has been adopted wholeheartedly by our mainstream media, owned by the rich and affluent, and hell bent on not telling news, but making profits. Well, doesn’t that sound FAIR, (and BALANCED)!

NORVAL JOE

Owen screamed as only a chicken could. He flapped his wings and tried to escape the wizardess’s strangle hold. After her arms were arms were scratched, pecked and bleeding Shareeka stuffed the chicken into a canvas bag.
To be fair Owen was a chicken and, rather than wait for him to reverted to his normal form, Shareeka turned Traveler into a chicken hawk. Lunging into the sky in search of the demon hoard Traveler screeched at the boy. What chicken wouldn’t act like, well, a chicken?
Even more unfair was an hour later when Owen reverted to being a boy.

PLANET Z

Buttons always sleeps on my twin sister’s bed.

Our friends and parents can’t tell us apart, but Buttons can.

I’ve traded beds with her, but Buttons still sleeps next to her.

Treats under my pillow. Catnip on the blanket.

It’s not fair.

I beg my parents for another cat, saying how Buttons is lonely and needs a cat-friend.

I promise to clean the litterboxes, pay for the vet bills out of my allowance, and get good grades.

We pick up a kitten. I name her Mittens.

That night, I watch her sleep, curled up against Buttons on my sister’s bed.

Insanity

You know that Dave’s Insanity Sauce, the really hot hot sauce?
For some reason, people buy stuff that hurts them. It’s a macho thing, I guess.
Well, my client Dr. Odd is suing them for false advertising.
He says that despite the fact that the sauce causes discomfort to the point of mental duress, it doesn’t actually drive the person consuming it to a state of mental illness.
On the other hand, he’s developed formulas that will cause any range of madnesses, temporary and permanent.
True insanity sauces.
And those Dave’s people are ruining his business with their snake oil.

The Case of The Amber Rose of The Amazon – Part 7

“The cottage we abide was once Mycroft’s”

“But Mycroft never leaves his club.”

“Not noticed. He came often to meet with a close ring of men who have like cottages through out this village. These men were called the Shadows of the Crown. They maintained a direct route to London.”

At that moment the hackney arrived at the crossing, a distance whistle sounded, Holmes jumped from the carriage, pulled a heavy iron lever buried in the under brush.

Nearly a mile down the tracks a 20 foot red star appeared.

“Haven’t you wondered at the number designation of the train?”

Dr. Vickers

Dr. Vickers told me there’s only three directions you can run:
To something.
Away from something.
And in circles.
Ten years of coming here, laying on this couch and telling him everything.
He takes a stack of notes from his desk drawer.
“Do you know what this is?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“It’s you,” he says.
He walks to his fireplace and tosses the notes on to the fire.
“You’ve been going in circles all this time. Now, you’re going to leave here.”
“Where will I go?” I ask.
“That’s your decision,” he says, and opens the door.

Ripe

It used to be that apples were grown locally on small farms, and when the fall came, you’d go out and pick them into a basket, ripe right off the tree, the farmer weighing the deliciousness at the gate, a handshake, a smile. He knew your name, you knew his, hey, Farmer Jackson, how’s the wife? Kids doing alright?
Or you had your own tree, you watched it grow from blossoms to apples to falling leaves and winter’s frost and back again.
Now, in the store, apples shipped from around the world, the whole year long.
I taste one.
Gross.

Silence of the staplers

I sat down at my desk and looked for my stapler.
“It’s gone,” I said. “Who took my stapler?”
My boss leaned over the cubicle wall. “I did. I took all of them.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Paper’s expensive, and paperwork sucks. So if anything you do takes over a printed page to explain, you’re fired.”
He smiled and went to get more coffee.
At first, people just used smaller fonts, but the boss banned magnifying lenses, too.
Pretty soon, we used less paper and became more efficient and profitable.
A Chinese company undercut our prices and we went bankrupt anyway.

Lickable

Wonka stopped the tour and pointed to a wall with bright strips depicting fruits and vines.
“It’s lickable wallpaper,” he said. “Go ahead. Try it.”
So, the kids and adults stepped to the wall and licked it.
The cherries tasted like cherries.
The strawberries tasted like strawberries.
The snozzberries tasted like snozzberries.
And the blueberries tasted like… blood?
“I guess they got Violet down to the juicing room,” said Wonka.
Charlie waved his arms wildly, stuck to the wall by his tongue.
“Dith wum tafff diffgufftih!” he shouted.
“Oh, that’s flypaper,” said Wonka. “Lemme give you a hand, dear boy…”

A Perfect Ten To Twenty

My coach told me that nobody ever remembers the one who came in second.
So, that’s why I stabbed the bitch who came in first.
Well, that’s not the only reason.
You see, mom pushed me into gymnastics, pulled me out of school, and stuck me with a coach who taught me things that would have made Nabokov puke.
Look, unless you’re Mary Lou Fucking Retton, you’re washed up at eighteen.
So, yeah, I lost my shit, and I stabbed her.
She’ll live, but the coach won’t.
I don’t want that disgusting creep touching anyone else.
(He’s mine, dammit! MINE!)

Weekly Challenge #327 – Feather

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

This is Weekly Challenge Number Three Hundred and Twenty-Seven, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

The topic this week was feather.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:

bruwyn the toe licking idiot (4)

THOMAS

He feathered his nest, using his former office and contacts as a politician to find work as a consultant and get booked for a number of speaking engagements. After a few years outside of his political office, he accumulated millions, and a home on the beach in California. All the people he had taken advantage of visited him in his nightmares and reduced him to a sleepy bag of gristle and tendons. He sought salvation by giving to his church and donating to the senior center, but it was too late, and the gods still thought he was an dick.

##

Macie feathered the prop, as the starboard engine failed 50 miles from her destination in the mountains of Chile. She felt confident that she could make it with her port engine, but she would have to dump some cargo. The copilot, Dan, rushed to the door and started heaving things out of the plane. First, the crate of heavy sewing machine parts, and then crates of tools and spare engine parts for the generator at the orphanage. Still heavy, Dan grabbed the collar of two missionaries and nudged them overboard. Only then could Macie bring the big plane in safely.

##

She cleaned the body with a damp rag and the feather duster. Carefully, Monica tidied up after the orgy of mayhem she was responsible for. The victim, her boyfriend, teased her and pushed all her buttons. She had put up with his unfaithfulness, his foul mouth, and his careless and selfish lovemaking, but Monica lost it when he burned the strip steak and ruined the ratatouille. He didn’t apologize for the meal, but bragged that he was the better chef. He droned on, until Monica put the heavy cleaver into the back of his neck as he sat, shelling peas.

TOM

The yellow feather was mounted on the sight of his Infield Rifle. At first no one was willing to stand on either side of Lt. Clive Dinsmore. The regimental symbol of cowardness had branded the Young Turk as a man without honor. Long after he had proven his valor Clive keep the feather. In time the yellow feather became the symbol of the regiment. All but one officer flew the feather. Clive realized he was the one who had falsely marked him. Clive removed the feather and dropped it at the true coward’s feet. The regiment resighted and opened fire.

GUARD 13007

I opened the door to my room, threw my backpack on the floor, kicked the door shut, and fell to my bed. I lay facedown for a minute, thinking about how today was, wondering if the school had called my parents for ditching half my classes.

They hadn’t said anything to me yet, but that really didn’t mean anything. They were probably too mad about it happening again to say anything.

I got up again, feeling the slight rush of fresh air after being buried in a pillow. I looked down at my bed, at the small feather laying there.

SERENDIPITY

Considering he’s a genius, he can be a real idiot sometimes… They tell me I’m lucky to be alive.

He gingerly enters my hospital room, smiling apologetically.

“You jerk!”, I exclaim, “Can’t you follow a simple instruction? We went through it all six times… two windows: Right hand window – FEATHER! – How could you get it wrong?”

Galileo shrugged, then broke into a great big grin: “The experiment worked though – they both fell at exactly the same velocity, just as I predicted!”

“Oh, they did indeed”, I responded angrily, “right up until the point that damn hammer landed on my skull!”

ANN

It started as a normal dog walk.

We heard shrieking cries from the end of the street. Was it cries of alarm?

Look! Up in the Poplar!

The large Red-tailed Hawk screeched and swooped, glided and perched, again, and again.

Flight training? We stopped to watch and listen.

Another launch and the bird glided over us dipping his wings….

Look at me!

I craned my neck watching the bird swoop across above us.

What? Slowly spiraling down was a pristine gifted feather.

Could I catch it before it reached the ground?

Yes! Score!

I smiled as the bird flew away.

JEFFREY

Once upon a time there were two princesses. They were very competitive. If Emmaline learned to jump a five-foot hedge riding her horse, Honoria would attempt a six foot jump. Should Honoria compose a sonnet in iambic pentameter, Emmaline would surely scribble sixteen lines instead of fourteen, and write it in iambic hexameter to boot.

It was therefore no surprise that, when Honoria announced she was so sensitive that she could sense a single pea placed in a layer of mattresses, Emmaline one-upped her sister by claiming that *she* was so sensitive she could sense even a feather in the bed. The contest was on.

Servants prepared suitable beds for the sisters. Honoria settled herself gently on her bed, wiggled once, and grimaced. She pointed the waiting servant to the exact location of the pea, to the applause of the onlookers.

Now it was Emmaline’s turn. She climbed on the stack of mattresses. Nothing. Wiggled. Still nothing. How could this be? Surely she was more sensitive than her boorish sister. She left the bed and took a running start at it. Leaping at the mattresses, she went airborne – and missed the bed entirely. “Ow,” she said, to the sound of muffled laughter.

Honoria stood watching, trying to look innocent, a feather twirling in her fingers.

SHRUTI

“I met someone”, she said taking off the mask. “We danced together all night. He’s meeting me for coffee tomorrow.”

Arya listened to her daughter gush about the boy and looked at the mask.

She had needed to stick a few feathers back but it looked as beautiful as when she had worn it.

It was party long ago.

He had asked her for a dance and they had stayed partners the whole night. A month later he asked her to marry him.

She dusted the tinsel off the feathers and smiled. It looked like another love story was beginning.

CIRCE

I searched the grid for a red feather I’d seen in an ad. It was brilliant and dangling from an earlobe. This happens a lot to me, and now, retired, I have time to hunt. First, go to all the stores you can find that carries that item – in this case, earrings… Then obtain a snapshot of the item, which might involve buying something you dont want at all, like the loathsome hair this particular feather showed up with. Then show it to shoppers in a jewelry store.. then count to see if your story is 100 words long yet.

SEVI AND BONCHANCE

Spill

George worked frantically from dawn to dusk before the talking heads emerged. The coverage was sure to stir
interest. People would come to help, they said.

“Look pretty boy, if you want to help, pitch in. If you are afraid to get your hands dirty, get the hell outta my
way.”

Exhausted, George stepped away from the oil soaked shore with a bundle in his hands. Suddenly, a camera was pushed
in front of his face. Fed up, he tiredly held up the bundle presenting two dead birds en-meshed in oil.
He smiled despairingly saying, “Birds of a feather stick together.”

Feathered Hope

Emily listened to the surgeon. In shock, vaguely hearing the words, locally advanced, surgery, colostomy and six
months of chemotherapy.

Emily was now looking for hope. She remembered somewhere that hope was made of feathers. She walked absentmindedly
and happened upon an old Chinaman with a peacock. He was selling it as food. Emm bought it thinking only of its
feathers to make a soup of hope.

Ten days later, she called 911 in agony. “Sorry Emily we need to operate immediately!”
For saving her life, she presented Dr. Lancet with a dream catcher made of peacock feathers.

MUNSI

His bangs feather like the wings of some majestic bird, even at forty-five.

The hair’s thinner now, but the bangs haven’t changed.

He’s gone to this pub since nineteen, since his last hit, though he didn’t know it’d be his last at the time. People here leave him alone.

Mostly.

She, nearly forty herself, works up the courage to approach. She’s been trying all night.

“I’m sorry, but aren’t you?”

“Why yes, I am.”

She blushes, fourteen again, and he smiles that same smile from years before.

And taking her home later, he can’t help thinking: Life isn’t so bad.

TURA

Day 37.

I found a feather, as long as my forearm.

Since cast up on the coast, this is the first sign of any sizeable animal. The poor fruits and insects I have been eating cannot sustain me indefinitely. I am hoping the bird is flightless. Might the dodo survive here?

Day 39.

I found another feather, longer than I am tall. The root was bloody, as if torn off in a fight. Then I saw how the ground was torn up, as if by huge talons.

The question is not, can I catch them? but, can they catch me?

PAM

Don’t Pick up that Feather

Martha had always been fascinated by feathers. She longed to touch them, turn them, and watch the sun reveal their hidden colors. But Mother had always said, “Don’t pick up that feather!”

“It’s dirty.”
“You’ll get a disease.”
“It’s full of germs.”
“You never know where it’s been.”

Mother was gone now, but if alive, she would be so proud, Martha thought as she sat in the midst of her collection of thousands of dead and mummified birds. All her life she had never picked up a feather; good thing Mother never said don’t pick up a dead bird.

ZACKMANN

Lawrence wonders if anyone ever takes him seriously.
He sees a man in his early thirties walking up to him.
“Crap,” he says “when I joked about spoiling for a fight I did not
expect a featherweight champion to suddenly show up.”
“That is Featherweight and seven other weight class titles but Dont
worry man, I know you were joking about wanting to fight especially
against me. I am looking for someone called Zackmann to have a little
talk with him about a comment he made on my youtube channel saying
“As a singer, Pacquiao is a really great boxer.”

LIZZIE

“Write it down, son, write it down” said the blind Maester.

It was the will. Rowan the apprentice tried to keep up, furiously writing with the feather. It was unique, a feather of the extinct giant eagle, and if anything, he wanted it as his Maester’s legacy to him.

“…the feather is to be given to…”

Me, he thought.

“…Jeremiah.”

Rowan frowned.
He wanted to tell his Maester that Jeremiah would never return, he made sure of that, but his courage failed him and the anguish of seeing that precious feather have no certain destiny made him scribble “…Rowan” instead.

KATFANCY

Mark wanted to pay it forward. He thought of ideas and remembered an article about laughter adding years to life. Mark didn’t know any jokes, but he did have a feather collection. It was a hot day and he knew there would be hoards of people outside. He tickled several people at the beach unsuspectingly with two turkey feathers and each person laughed, while he ran away. Later, a lady he tried to tickle didn’t react with laughter. Instead, she turned around and slapped him in the face. Feeling ashamed, Mark walked away with his tail feathers between his legs.

CLIFF

Feathered Dreams
She was born with feathers instead of hair. The doctor said it was extremely rare but perfectly harmless. Her grandmother said that it was because she was blessed by the angels. The neighbors said it was because her mother smoked dope while pregnant. An uncle in Montana swore it was due to government experimentation. Everyone had a theory. Before she turned two, the feathers fell out and were replaced by beautiful curly red hair. Eventually, everyone forgot about the feathers. But even now, twenty years later, she dreams every night of feathers and wings and flying high above the world.

Duck Feather
As a kid, the guys said that if I wanted to learn to swim, I should eat a duck feather. I called them liars. Two weeks later, I declared that I’d eaten a feather at my uncle’s farm while on vacation. I couldn’t wait to hit the pool. Soon, I was at the edge of the deep end, someplace none of us had dared go before. I took a breath, jumped, and swam the length of the pool twice. The guys headed to the park for their own duck feathers. I never told them about my cousin the swimming instructor.

REDGODDESS

Work monopolizes Lola’s time. Even on her days off, she can’t stop worrying about unfinished projects. “What happened to the adventurous Lola?” She wondered. To loosen up, she accepts another invitation from the mystery guy. Tonight, they’re dining at the waterfront sky lounge. Their conversation about food, travels, and work flows seamlessly. He even laughs at her silly jokes. Before finishing her last bite of dessert, he asks playfully, “for our next date, choose one thing I can bring: a scrabble board, feather or ice cream.” Intrigued, she leans toward him, whispers in his right ear, “how about all three.”

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

John and Richard stared across no man’s land toward the enemy position.

Richard’s hands flittered, filled with nervous energy, across his weapon. “We’re in a bad position, sir.”

John gripped his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t talk like that, soldier. We will persevere.”

“But, the enemy is heavily fortified, and-”

“Nevermind that. Ready your weapon!” John gripped his, white-knuckled. “Charge!”

The two leapt together out of the trench and assaulted the enemy fortification.

When John’s mother opened the door to check on the sleepover, a cloud of feathers still floated over the four boys and the shattered remains of the pillow fort.

——-

”I won’t leave,” she said, her voice barely audible over clinking glasses and murmuring diners.

“I… I mean…” His voice splutters, echoing derailed thoughts. “I thought this was nice. Here. Us.”

The soft words of her reply slammed into him. “I have too much back home.” She reached across the table and put her left hand on his twisting fingers. He glanced at her fingers, bare of both wedding band and the ring he’d given her. “I can’t leave there.”

“You won’t leave there,” he said. “You won’t leave him.”

Her silence was that of bloodied feathers falling on snow.

NORVAL JOE

They raced through the forest beyond the dead city, avoiding roads and clearings where the demons could see them from above.
“We can’t outrun these demons. They know our destination,” Owen said.
“We’ll approach from a different direction, but we need to know they’re no longer on our trail,” Shareeka said. She handed Owen a feather.
“I’ll turn you into a bird. Scout the area and return with your report.” Shareeka spoke the spell.
Owen flapped his wings and looked to the sky.
Shareeka cursed and said, “Traveller, pick up the chicken. We’ll try again when the spell wears off.”

DANNY

This story revolves around a college football game between the fictional Darwin and Huxley Colleges. It simply amazes me how eligibility rules have been stretched by collegiate athletic departments for over a century. This permits Professor Wagstaff to hire ringers from the local speakeasy down the street, allowing Huxley to win the football game by taking the ball into the end zone in a horse-drawn chariot made from a garbage wagon. Then, after Darwin figures out the game was rigged, a 60 million dollar fine and 4 year suspention is imposed on Huxley. You could have knocked me over with a Horse Feather.

PLANET Z

Most kids buy coffee mugs or ties for their fathers on Father’s Day.

I was no different.

“That’s your blood on there,” Dad says, pointing at the red crust along the crack in the handle of the World’s Greatest Dad mug.

And inside of it: feathers.

I remember the card. Big Bird from Sesame Street.

“HAPPY FEATHERS DAY”

Bert and Ernie crossing out the E.

I’d torn open a pillow, thought I’d wake my dad by shaking it open over him.

He didn’t think it was funny. Neither did the maid.

I wear my hair long to cover the scar.

Chocolate

Janey loves chocolate.
Just the mention of chocolate gets her all excited.
Her eyes open wide, and she smiles that smile, open slightly, waiting.
You could cover anything in chocolate and she’d want it.
Anything.
So, when the varsity football team heard about this, well, you knew there’d be trouble.
Boys will be boys, and when she saw the chocolate, she couldn’t resist.
Moments later, eleven panicked screaming jocks clutching their bleeding junk running for the nurse’s office.
Janey claimed innocence. “I didn’t mean to hurt them. I just got excited, that’s all. And I thought they were solid chocolate.”