My September Story a Day for the day. I’ve gotten a bit distracted and haven’t kept up. Time to get back on track.
“Ding! Stop garh blar garh,” announced the jumbled robotic voice of the light rail system.
Ty still absorbed in his Thermodynamics book hopped off one station too soon, not paying attention to where he was going. As he headed towards the station exit he walked right into a large man.
“What here you’re going, punk!” The man screamed as he threw Ty’s book onto the tracks.
“No, I need that book to study for my exam tomorrow,” Ty lamented.
“If you don’t get out of my way, nerd, you’re going to be next,” the large man snarled as the next train raced over the book on the tracks.
Once the man hopped on the train and it sped away Ty felt it was safe to hop onto the tracks to retrieve his battered book and head home. He never saw the returning train coming.
My September Story a Day for the day.
Finally the assignment was complete. All night spent typing and retyping as the coffee pot emptied. Now all Shandra needed to do was send her professor a perfectly worded email with the email attached.
Shandra leaned back to reread her email setting her coffee mug down. The mug plopped down a little too forcefully and spilled cold black coffee all over her laptop as it toppled over. ‘Sizze’…the computer hissed before the screen turned as black as the coffee staining the sheets of notes on the desk. An enite night’s work gone.
I work on poetry at my other blog, A Full Cup of Tea, and dabble in some short stories and flash fiction here with the FRIDAY FICTIONEERS. Every Friday authors from around the world gather to share their 100-word stories based on the photo prompt hosted by Rochelle Wisoff. We offer support, constructive criticism, and encouragement to each other. Readers are encouraged to comment. My contribution for the week follows the photo prompt below…
Also counting this as my September Story a Day for the day.
PHOTO PROMPT -© Vijaya Sundaram
Boom! Pop ! Zizzle! BANG!
A loud bang sounded nearby followed by a red glow and the gleeful voices of children up the street. It was August there should be any more fireworks.
“Hit the deck!” James shouted as he jumped to the ground and covered his head with the couch pillow. “We’re taking on fire!”
Both he and the dog had taken up sheltered positions behind the recliner before I finished checking out the window. “It’s just the kids up the street setting off the last of their fireworks,” I calmly explained as I turned up the TV.
Veterans, PTSD, and fireworks http://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/military-vets-ptsd-4th-fireworks-can-be-nerve-wracking-n602526