Tag: Roll Call

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EWC Roll Call – “Harassing Bigfoot”

Prompt: “That’s how we ended up spending the night in jail.”

150 words.

We parked at the Honobia Community Park in Honobia, along the Little River in southeast Oklahoma. We set the five hound dogs loose and traveled north. The dogs picked up the scent. They moved fast through the dense forest, and we, racing behind, barely kept up. After thirty minutes, the dogs’ baying told us they had somehow managed to bring our prey to a halt, either trapped or treed. Coming into a small clearing, the muddy remains of an old, dried-up cow pond at its center, we saw him. He was furious and bellowing, stuck in the mud. At every attempt to free himself, he became more and more bogged down. We called the newspaper and reported it to the authorities, and that’s how we ended up in jail. We did not know that in Honobia, Oklahoma, it is, in fact, illegal to harass Bigfoot.

Shared the prize…


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Writing: Floating

150-word Roll Call for Enid Writers Club November meeting. We had a FIVE-way tie for the winner!

Photo by NASA on Unsplash

My first trip to the International Space Station would be my last. Not because I wasn’t qualified or because I was planning to retire. No. This would be my last mission because I had failed to securely fasten the tether that anchored me to the station, and for the past thirty minutes, I had been drifting away. The station, now no more than a dot in the distance, would soon pass beyond the horizon of Earth, and I would float in this blackness forever.

“Robert? Colonel, this is ground control; we are working to….”

Click.

I turned off my communications link. I had approximately thirty-two minutes before I was out of oxygen. No matter what they were working to do, it would not change my fate. I choose to enter the Greater Silence while listening in this lesser one. Perhaps I may hear the door between the two snicking open.

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“Jumping from a Plane”

Enid Writer’s Club April Roll Call. Must be 150 words or less. The prompt: “Jumping from a plane.”

The engine coughed, then died. No option. Quickly shouldering on the parachute, I made ready.

God knows how I would miss this plane. She had been good to me through so many dog fights, even having survived the Red Barron, but not today. Nothing more than a faulty engine and a soon-to-be-fired mechanic.

Racing to the rear of the plane and sliding open the door, I gently kissed the fuselage. “I’ll never forget you,” I said and jumped.

When I landed, my disapproving wife was standing there.

“Harold! You’re an embarrassment,” she said, hands on hips.

“That may be,” I responded, whisking my white silk scarf over my shoulder, “but I’ve got three more quarters.”

The kids standing outside the Piggly Wiggly waiting their turn on the kiddie plane groaned as I inserted my coin and waited for those magical words.

“Barron Killer Nine, you are cleared for takeoff….”

149 words

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