Have you ever thought about how silly our planet is? When it’s spring in one hemisphere, it’s fall in another. And yet, we can share stories of sun sillies across the world. We all experience the elation of sunshine and how we can respond.
Some writers found serious topics, such as melanoma. Some simply discovered seriously silly stories or crafted sheer wordplay.
The following are based on the April 5, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a silly sun story.
PART I (5-minute read)
Sun of a Gun by Bill Engleson
“Voorhees. The Killer.”
“You’ve never seen it?”
“Gimme a break. LED.”
“Fine. FOLLOW. Fanatic.”
Sponge Cake Petit Fours by Kerry E.B. Black
Cali hummed as she spread a thick layer of buttercream icing over the pink sponge, creating perfect petit fours. She dotted each with stripes of dark chocolate and the first initial of each of her four children’s names. Proud of the accomplishment, she set the completed deserts on a paper doily. She washed the bowl and spatula, put away scissors and discarded tell-tale plastic wrappers.
When each kid came home from school, starting with the eldest, they eagerly grabbed their treats. When they bit into them, though, the cake rejected their bites. “Hey, these aren’t sponge cake! They’re sponges!”
Family Portrait by Heather Gonzalez
The Parkers were already posed and ready to go. As the photographer was about to take the shot, the sun hid behind a cloud.The Parkers tried hard to hold their perfect smiles as they waited.
The longer they waited, the more their smiles faded. Little Bobby started poking Suzie. Grandpa began to yawn and scratch himself. Grandma even began to fall asleep. Mr. Parker kept his smile as if he noticed nothing. Mrs. Parker visibly showed her disappointment.
After seeing the photos, Mrs. Parker chose a photo of a dog in a Santa’s hat for their Christmas card.
Missing Winter by Liz Husebye Hartmann
Outside my window is a dour study in black and gray and soggy white. No wind, no blue sky, even the evergreens are evergray. Twenty degrees below what we’re supposed to have in April, looking at another tiresome visit from the Abominable Snowman next weekend. So many reasons to whinge.
Yet months ago…
Deep snow, lovingly scratching the long bellies of my skis.
Thighs burning from herring-bone stomps uphill.
Butt-ache from sitzmarks and sliding sideways.
Boots clomping down grocery aisles, grabbing salad and oranges,
Feeling strong as Skadi.
Driving with windows wide open.
Mouth howling wide, joyful Classic Rock.
Sunny Spring Weather? by Patrick M. O’Connor
Yay! It’s Spring!
I’ve been waiting for the trees to start budding, flowers to bloom, and all the sensory feelings of spring.
I wake up and get dressed. Shorts, Flip-Flops and a T-shirt. It’s going to be a great day.
Moving to the kitchen, I eat a hasty breakfast.
A game of soccer to kick off the day. Kick off the day. Ha! I crack myself up.
Grabbing the keys, I open the door. Brr! A frigid cold chills me right to the bone.
I check my phone. 30 degrees. Ugh!
So much for spring in Upstate New York.
Sun Sillies by Deborah Lee
Torrey steps out the front door and into full spring. Azure sky tops the budding trees, home to birds gone mad with singing, still-ragged yard blooming. Happy to be out of bulky sweaters and boots, Torrey knows she is a vision in cream slacks and shell, draped cardigan in petal pink, neutral pumps, her favorite pink-and-gold-chain envelope bag barely still fashionable. Sunshine. Spring, finally!
Thirty minutes later she emerges from the parking garage on Pike Street into a downpour. Of course, she left her umbrella at home. Of course, she’s wearing cashmere and suede.
Spring? April Fool’s, silly girl.
Unconvinced by D. Avery
We don’t believe you, they cried. That is a preposterous story!
It’s true, you insist. It has an incredible mass, which keeps our spinning planet orbiting around it. As our planet rotates, you explain, it appears to ‘rise,’ bringing light and warmth- day.
Prove it, they demand.
Again you pull out the globe, the flashlight, begin to demonstrate. That’s not proof they groan, and disperse to the gym, the greenhouses, to the light therapy reading rooms.
You sigh. How silly, you muse, that there are still windows. Outside the gray is sprinkled with snow. You struggle to remember otherwise.
Sun Silly Preschoolers! by Ritu Bhathal
Billy hung precariously from the climbing frame.
Jane was running round and round the playground like a crazed lunatic.
Another group was taking great pleasure in pulling the flowers off the line of shrubs in the planter.
And there was more…
Mrs Jackson sighed.
She’d heard of the full moon doing something to the children’s behavior in school. Not just heard, but experienced many times over the years.
But after a long winter and delayed spring, this was the first time she had seen the effect of the long awaited sun on her charges – truly sun silly, they were!
The Exam by Luccia Gray
“Come outside and watch our dance!” Beth called waving her arms in the air.
Sister Mary looked out of her open, classroom window, squinting at the blaring midday sun. “Play in the shade, the sun will make you frisky.”
“We’ve been rehearsing a dance!” They shouted in unison, twisting and turning rhythmically.
“You’d better study for this afternoon’s biology exam.”
“Please, sister, just five minutes!”
She sighed. “Very well, but then you’ll sit in the shade and revise.” They nodded.
As their teacher walked out, Susan crept inside, opened her drawer, snapped a photo of the exam and grinned.
Running in the Sunshine, Dancing in Shadows y Norah Colvin
Dad was working and didn’t look up.
“Can we play outside?” the children asked.
“It’s very hot,” said Dad. “Wait until it cools down.”
“We’ll stay in the shade.”
“We’ve got sunscreen on.”
“I’ve got my hat.”
“There won’t be much shade,” said Dad.
“There is a little bit.”
The deadline loomed.
“Well, stay in the shade,” he conceded.
When finished, Dad sought the children.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Dancing in each other’s shadows,” they laughed.
“But you’re in the sun.”
“We have to be. We don’t have shadows without the sun, silly.”
Overturning David Harum by Irene Waters
“Jazzy ain’t spring grand.” The dog scratched. “Yep. Blue sky, melted snow, blooming daffodils and tonight romance. Just fantastic. A glorious day my boy.”
If only you’d develop a different philosophy and treat the fleas, I’d be happy. Bugger the sky, the melting snow, and romance.
“A nightcap?” Winston invited the girl. “Come meet Jazzy.”
Jazzy scratched. “He’s got fleas.”
“David Harum says its essential for a dog to have fleas. Keeps ’em from brooding over the fact they’re a dog.”
“Treat that dog, or you’re getting no romance.” Winston produced a can of insecticide.
Thank you lust.
Sun Silly by Frank Hubney
“Wake up, kid! It’s that time of year when spring fever makes them run. They’ll soon all be sun silly. We don’t want to miss it.”
“Why do they run, Pa? There must be some scientific explanation for it. Don’t they have brains in their heads?”
“I don’t know why they run. They run. They’re stupid.”
“Yeah, but if we knew why they ran maybe we could encourage them to run more often?”
“Why would we want to do that?”
“So we don’t have to get up so early? So we can harvest them more than once a year?”
Sun Hat by Sherri Matthews
Bob couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.
‘Pick up the milk on your way home and don’t forget to put out the rubbish before you go,’ screeched Vera.
At the allotment, Bob hoped the only screech might come from an owl in the woods.
Sunlight escaped through the grey clouds, despite the weather forecast predicting rain.
Darn, left my hat at home. Never mind.
Bob set out his tea flask and sandwiches for later and turned on his radio. He started digging as he whistled along…the sun has got his hat on…coming out to play…
The Silly Sun by Michael Grogan
It was such a silly event. We all laughed, oh how we laughed. Winter had arrived with its long dark days. But we awoke to a sunny morning, and it was simply ridiculous because we realised it was the sun playing its silly tricks once again.
Sure enough within a half hour of being fooled into thinking it was a sunny day it disappeared behind dark wet clouds, and the cold descended, as it is want to.
We giggled to one another as we packed away our shorts and t-shirts, thinking that silly old sun was giggling with us.
No Laughing in Church (from Rock Creek) by Charli Mills
Reverend Smith’ voice rose to heaven and plunged to hell, persuading his brethren to choose the higher path. It was the first sermon before wagon trains broke winter camp.
Nancy Jane had promised to make “holy garbage” for supper. She and Sarah stood behind the crowd. The venison stew required horseradish and a priest’s blessing, but a circuit preacher would do. Sarah remained skeptical of both the sermon and her friend’s recipe. Breathing deep, she fought back the giggles.
When Sarah saw Cobb switch out Reverend’s water for what was probably moonshine, she succumbed to full out sun sillies.
Sun Sillies by Susan Sleggs
The new pastor was determined to bring some energy into the rural church. The week after Easter, with snow flurries still happening on a daily basis, he announced, “Next week, services will be in our barn at 3pm. I’ve heard a lot of you worked on parade floats there in years past so you know what a fine space it is. We’ll have a potluck after and music to do a little dancing like we have the sun sillies.”
The following week attendance doubled, everyone forgot their winter blues and baby goats antics were the hit of the event.
Man Down by Eric Pone
I was down wondering how the hell I got here. “Sorry LT you are going home.” I had prepared for Ranger qualifying school or Q School for months. I had sacrificed everything girlfriend, friends, my family thought I was at church camp. But here I was flushing my dream down the toilet.
As I laid on the cool Earth having collapsed on a company run, I looked up at the sky. The Sun — like a coy little bitch breathed above the tree line at me. “I guess it’s time for plan b,” I said to it, and everything went black.
The Awakening of the Fey by Colleen Chesebro
The hibernating Rusalki fey dangled from cocoons attached to the rafters. They stirred when the rays of father sun streamed in through the window. One by one, they hatched. The tiny creatures floated on newly formed wings.
Lada was not amused. “Not in my tea,” she sputtered placing her hand over her cup. “Sister Serafima, are they like this every year? How do you put up with it?”
A chuckle escaped Serafima’s lips. “They’ve hibernated with me for years. Do you know what this means, sisters?” Lada and Vasilisa shook their heads. “The silly sun of Ostara has arrived.
Call Me Madame by Juliet Nubel
She was out early in the long-awaited rays of sunshine. The others would arrive soon, but she longed to be the first to feel the gentle warmth waken the bright colours she wore.
She moved between the new blossom and the virgin daisies, drinking in their springtime scents.
The sun made her feel silly and daring, so she tried an aerial cartwheel then backward flip, landing effortlessly on the wooden garden table where a man sat watching her in admiration.
“The first Red Admiral of the season. He’s a beauty!”
He? Could he not see? She was Madame Butterfly.
The Ringmaster by Robbie Cheadle
The sun is the ringmaster. He introduces the clandestine night circus with a great show of fiery splendor and then disappears. The stars sparkle and shine in their flashy tutus as they dance and twirl, walking the tightrope and riding bareback across the night sky is all part of their show. The pale moon enchants the crowd with her fantastic control of the oceans. The tides rise and fall at her beckoning. An array of thrilling creatures and heroes make guest appearances before the ringmaster reappears and closes the show with a splash of yellow, pink and orange light.
PART II (5-minute read)
Boys of Summer by Christina Coster
We were heading down the Pacific Coast Highway cruising with the top down; hair dancing in the breeze. Tank top and shades on; Mr. Sunshine had his hat on and was out to play. Not a cloud in the sky.
We didn’t have a care in the world on those blissful summer afternoons. Just me and my four girls: young, beautiful, free. The radio blared the tunes of the day. We laughed turning it up as the voice of Don Henley came through the speaker. We sang until our voices were hoarse, ‘after the boys of summer have gone’…
Sun Citation by Molly Stevens
“I can explain, officer,” said Myra.
“I doubt that,” he said.
“I’ve endured harsh Maine winters my whole life. For decades I’ve seen this atrocity dangling in the sun on the first warm spring day. It traumatizes me more than finding a spider hulking in the bathroom sink.”
“Every fifty-degree day this disgusting visual stains the beauty of budding trees and melting snow.
“Get to the point.”
“I knew mine was more splendid, more befitting the season.”
“So you’re saying I should give you a pass because your bosom is better looking than your neighbor, Chester’s?
Don’t Blame the Sun by Miriam Hurdle
“It’s the sun’s fault when people get melanoma, the visible kind, Erica.”
“Why do people choose to sunbathe long hours just to get tan? Don’t they know that they ask for cancer?”
“Are you saying people don’t get skin cancer if the sun hides behind the clouds?”
“I didn’t say that, Joyce. The ray is powerful that it penetrates through thick clouds.”
“I get it. You’re saying the sun is at fault to impose cancer on people even when the clouds try to protect them, right?”
Hey, look, don’t blame me, just wear suntan lotion wherever you are, okay!
Seasoned by FloridaBorne
This is Florida,” The ancient man with a white beard and grimy baseball cap chuckled. “We have three seasons.”
“Three?” The Midwestern tourist asked.
The way she said her “a” sounded like fingernails down a chalkboard to him. His southern drawl made her skin crawl.
Idiot, he thought; while she was thinking, moron.
“Wanna know what they are?” He asked.
“Sure,” she sighed.
“Pollen season, flea season, and tourist season,” He grinned.
“That is ridiculous!”
“Y’all have two. Silly season and winter.”
“We also have a lovely fall,” She said, with umbrage.
“So that’s what y’all call ski season?”
A Straw Cap for Spring? by JulesPaige
Winds whipping the lake waters at twenty one miles an hour
made them look like ocean waves. And I was fool enough
to try and walk into town. Only because the sun still shone.
I’ll not attempt a nature walk on Lake William’s trail this day –
with a high of twenty seven Fahrenheit even without wind.
Since snow is supposed to fall mixing with freezing rain.
(Alice was fooled by a bump on her head. I wonder if I’m in
a snow globe …that the March Hare is shaking.)
New England in spring
as unpredictable as
Wonderlands Heart Queen
Spring Fever by Chelsea Owens
Nature whispers warming tones
“No,” the pessimistic minds reply.
Determined of a White Witch winter, they grumble in groundhog shadows.
Shaking snowflake buds unfurl
To chirping, flitting birdsong
Pushing, pulsing, happy faces open;
Drinking deeply from dew-warmed sundrops
– Springing –
“Six more weeks,” the cynics warn,
Waking in the pre-dawn cold;
Shivering over cold, black cups of darkness.
Nature laughs and paints the sky
In God’s finest pastel shades:
Pink, yellow, grey, but
blue Blue BLUE
Blossoms turn to watch;
And we, caught in Springtime’s lively song,
Can’t help but laugh,
And sing along
Flash Fiction by Pete Fanning
The sun was on the backswing when Lia led me to the parquet dance floor. The bridesmaids oohed and awed as she set her arms around my neck.
I stumbled along, breathing in the sweet smell of flowers, a hint of sweat. My best friend had lived in a cocoon of long sleeves and coats, but now, in a haze of pollen…poof!
“Hey,” she said. A tiny speck of icing on her lips. I swallowed, trying to figure out where in the heck to put my hands. Lia rolled her eyes, giggled, and moved them to her waist. “There.”
No Laughing Matter by Anne Goodwin
“The sun’s out,” says Flora. “Let’s away!”
A threadbare shawl cloaks my shoulders. I’d been saving my coin for a new one, but this will suffice until November’s snow.
The queue snakes around the close, jigging and joshing as if at the Highland Games. Sobering as our turn approaches, as if for Kirk.
Mr Hill seats each individual, helps us adopt the most appealing pose. On checking the light, Mr Adamson dips beneath the camera hood. “Hold!”
I avert my gaze from Flora’s gurning. But when the calotype is printed, you can see the laughter leaching from my eyes.
Shorty’s Sun Sized Heart by D. Avery
“Pal, what ever happened ta Shorty’s big heart?”
“Still big, near as I know, Kid.”
“No, I mean a certain someone was offrin’ prizes fer similes in the March 15th roundup.”
“Oh. Yeah, the undisclosed amount fer that one was a picture book fer Shorty, on behalf of Aussie, Jules, Still Waters, Susan an’ Liz.”
“Ya jist disclosed it.”
“Oh well. Don’tcha agree a book amounts ta more’n money? Money cain’t bring happiness, books do.”
“Some do fer sure. Like the Anthology.”
“Yep, that book rocks. But this ‘uns about rocks.”
“Perfect. Ever’body needs a rock book.”