This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
An emergency ambulance was summoned to transport Richard to an exclusive private hospital. Jill was a frequent visitor during the slow weeks of intensive physiotherapy treatment and they became good friends. Richard never fully recovered from this untoward injury and needless to say he has never taken part in any further burpee sessions again…..
Several weeks later Jill and Richard met for lunch at Grimaldi’s, an exclusive Italian restaurant. Jill was somewhat puzzled by this invitation, yet flattered, as she still had hopes their friendship would develop into something special. She had chosen her outfit with care and together with a fresh hairdo by Simon, her personal hairdresser, she looked absolutely stunning. The gold coloured two piece outfit she wore matched her newly coiffured hair perfectly.
Richard was already seated when she entered the restaurant and he instantly jumped to his feet when the restaurant maitre d escorted her to his table.
‘Hi Jill! I’m so glad you could make it, I’m sure you’re always busy in your line of work.
Thanks Luigi. Can we order the wine now? Oh! and bring me another double gin and tonic. Would you like a drink Jill?’
. ‘Yes please, could I just have a glass of fruit juice?’
‘Of course, Mr. Donleavy. I will inform the wine waiter.’
‘How are you Jill? Thanks for coming, it’s so lovely to see you again. May I say you look absolutely beautiful.’
‘Why thank you kind Sir. I’m fine. More importantly; how are you? Have you fully recovered from that nasty fall you took during that unfortunate burpee session?’
At this moment the wine waiter arrived with the drinks and the wine list. Richard turned to Jill, smiled broadly and said, ‘Red or White? They do a very good Chianti or an excellent Chardonnay here.’ He quickly consumed the gin with just a tiny splash of tonic.
Jill was somewhat taken aback by this but she smiled and after a moment’s thought, she said, ‘Chianti is probably too heavy for me at this time of day. Can I have some Chardonnay please?’
‘Certainly Jill’, Then turning to the waiter he said, ‘Would you bring us a bottle of your best Chardonnay and another double gin, please, I have enough tonic for the moment, thanks.’
The waiter arrived and they both ordered their choices of meal from the extensive lunch menu.
‘Sorry Jill, you asked if I had fully recovered from the accident. Well sadly, I still get spasms of pain during the course of the day. I’ve been prescribed painkillers from my Doctor, but they aren’t strong enough. I find a few glasses of alcohol alongside the painkillers go some way towards alleviating the ache.’
As if to accentuate this, the wine waiter arrived with the drinks and Richard took a sip of neat gin before the wine waiter opened the bottle and poured a small amount of wine for Richard to taste.
‘That will be fine thanks.’
Jill was shocked to hear Richard was still in pain. She sympathised with him, but she gently pointed out the dangers of becoming reliant on alcohol to alleviate his aching pain.
Richard nodded and said, ‘I know Jill, I have an interesting proposition for you. I’m aware that you are a brilliant financial analyst in your own right and you are successful. I’m an extremely wealthy man and I’m in need of a person of your calibre to act as my personal PA. This will not just be any ordinary PA job, I will pay you double the amount of money you earn now and you will automatically become my partner in several of my business ventures. Obviously you can take as long as you like to think things over before you make your decision. Please try not to take too long though.’
Jill was shaken by this incredible offer and replied. ‘Thanks for your faith in my abilities, I guess you have done your homework. I will certainly need time to think things through. Meanwhile as a possible candidate, can I suggest you cut the extra alcohol and alleviate the ache some other way. Relaxation or Yoga as opposed to burpee workouts.’
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
Jill Merryweather, a first class investment analyst, was on holiday in a renowned health fitness establishment. It’s another beautiful day, judging by the sun streaming through the window. The world is waiting for her, and she is ready to take it on. Live life to the full and seize every opportunity. That’s her motto, and one she intends to fulfil. Today will bring change, a new path to walk. She can feel it. Getting out of bed, she dresses and wanders into the kitchen for some pre-exercise orange juice. Jill quickly ran a brush through her dark brown hair, splashed water into her deep brown eyes and headed towards the health centre’s gym. The morning fitness session was scheduled to start at 09:00 sharp. Jill’s pulse was racing at the prospect of continuing her brief association with the mysterious, handsome Richard Donleavy, a fellow guest. They had met and clicked instantly over the last two fitness sessions and all the signs pointed to a strong mutual attraction. Richard was unaware that Jill knew of him by reputation, as an extraordinarily successful investment banker, with his fingers of influence in many different pies. Sure enough Richard was already in the gym and favoured her with a dazzling smile. He was over 6 foot tall with a slight squint to his green eyes that only became noticeable when he removed his expensive tortoiseshell spectacles. He had a shock of neatly trimmed red hair with a small marching neatly trimmed moustache.
‘Hi!’ she responded, ‘How are you today? Ready to workout?’
‘Of course, I can’t wait, although I’m not used to such high intensity exercise, I’m sure I’m fit enough for anything.’
‘Well, we get through sit ups, crunches, leg raises, burpees and squats during this session. you should be fine if you have done it before.’ Jill said, smiling.
‘No problem,’ Richard laughed, although secretly he was exaggerating as he had never experienced burpees except for a quick home taught session via a YouTube video.
The session started well and the mutual attraction between Jill and Richard was obvious to everyone. Until the burpee section started when for the first couple of movements Richard was fine, just a little awkward at first. On the third burpee, he landed awkwardly and screamed with pain as his back and shoulders hit the floor. Jill and the instructor rushed to help but he was unable to move.
An emergency ambulance was summoned to transport Richard to an exclusive private hospital. Jill was a frequent visitor during the slow weeks of intensive physiotherapy treatment and they became good friends. Richard never fully recovered from this untoward injury and needless to say he has never taken part in any further burpee sessions again.
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
Stella Fergusson was a renowned interviewer for a popular daytime television programme . The lady was 6’ 3” in height and extremely thin; stick-like would be the description that first sprang to mind on meeting her for the first time. She had long auburn hair that was always piled high on top of her head, adding an additional 6” to her height, making her an exceptionally formidable looking lady indeed. Her choice of earrings was usually long hanging gold pendants that sparkled and set off her deep brown eyes.
Stella had an exceptionally quick mind; quick to pounce on the slightest clue to enable her to get to the nitty-gritty of the subject she was relentlessly pursuing. Stella had such an incredible knack of asking her subjects penetrating questions, she became known as ‘Spilling Stella.’
In spite of this formidable reputation, celebrities queued up to be interviewed by her and her show was avidly watched by thousands of regular viewers.
Sadly Stella suddenly discovered she was suffering from a serious flu-like condition. Slowly, she became extremely ill and finally she was rushed off to hospital where she was diagnosed with Covid-19. After a period in hospital she recovered somewhat and tried to resume her work on the show. Unfortunately long Covid set in and she suffered fatigue with the cognitive impairment known as brain fog that made a return to her normal self impossible.
Spilling Stella made a final broadcast advising her regular viewers she would no longer be available to spill-the-beans finishing with the words. ‘Take care and Stay safe.’
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
‘Excuse me, but I think your modifier is dangling.’
Robin was leaning against the bar, relating his meeting and his experience, with Mellita Mann, a well known rising star of film and television. He ignored this obvious facetious interjection and continued….
‘Self assured and sophisticated, a social siren. Queen of all she surveyed, I tell you this was so unlike her.’
Raving madly about the lady he had bumped into in his local supermarket, Robin sounded, shocked, surprised and visibly shaken.
‘Her hair was in curlers, she had no make-up on, and she was rude; pushy and rude. I would never have believed it, if I hadn’t seen it myself,! She actually stole something, picked it up from the shelf and put it right into her pocket!’ Robin went on, ‘I have seen her acting on television, I feel as if I know her intimately. There she was looking like a scruffy scarecrow, stealing from the supermarket. I called out loudly, ‘Stop thief!’ Then I was manhandled and pushed away by this gorilla of a man, who swore at me several times and told me to get lost. The police then arrived, and I was threatened with arrest, for a breach of the peace. I asked to speak to the manager to report the theft of the property, but I was stunned when the manager suddenly burst out laughing, the Police officer was also smiling. Then a tall smartly dressed man stepped forward, his next words took me totally by surprise.’
‘We are in the middle of filming an anti-theft, short film here. Please accept our apologies for your embarrassing, worthy reaction, we would like you to accept this money to go some way to smoothing over this unfortunate situation!
I am Henry Hills, the director.’
Robin grimaced, made appropriate shocked remarks, reflecting his hurt feelings at this unforeseen embarrassment, and left with £100.00 in cash.
Later he would be found in the local bar drowning his well smoothed feelings with a velvety smooth Guinness.
Life’s like that! The modification of a situation dangling in the imagination.
~~~~~~~
Example of a dangling modifier.
‘Hopping briskly through the vegetable garden Robin glimpsed a frog.’
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘Putting My Feet In the Dirt’, Writing Prompts hosted by ‘M’. Which can be found by following the link below..
My child has left and gone to work, I lie here alone with my thoughts. I will not stir, I will not move, I am in pain. My little girl Anya is twelve years old. She takes care of everything for us both since her mother left us when the sadness descended on me. Anya gets up at dawn to prepare our meal and fetches water to wash our clothes. She cleans our room and takes good care of me. Anya hides when visitors come to the door. We both need her here to take care of me. Anya works in a sweatshop for twelve hours a day. With homespun fabric, she labours all day making clothes, for the fat people over the sea.
As I lie here alone the rats appear, they scuffle around, then leave, we never drop any crumbs here.
When the landlord calls to collect the rent; I’ve noticed the way he looks at my Anya when she pays him from her paltry earnings, mischievous, malevolent, lascivious looks that bode no good for my child.
School for Anya was a couple of years In a shack for a classroom until her mother left us and she started to work. Anya always returns feeling weary, the dull repetitive drudgery is taking a terrible toll on her wellbeing.
Anya has no time for friends or parties, new clothes or games and playing sports. No time for laughter or enjoying a book. Anya is always too busy working to stop and notice the children around her.
Selfishly I lie here and let things be, I know I can never let Anya leave me to face my sadness alone. We are tied to each other irrecoverably. It’s far too late for me to offer her anything but my sympathy. I know I’m a thief and I can clearly see I have stolen a precious commodity. The innocent freedom of her childhood.
johnandmargaret1607 