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July 12: Flash Fiction Challenge

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He shuffles across the rubble that bridges the 2nd Street drainage system of Ripley Creek. Wisps of white locks curl from beneath a baseball cap, and his t-shirt glows as white as if he reserves a brand new one for rare occasions. Spotting this reclusive Vietnam veteran hovering in what used to be the front yard of one of his neighbors feels like a sighting an elusive Sasquatch.

He hesitates and reminds me of a moth that bobs back and forth on my back porch, seeking entrance through the glass and darting away just as quickly. Like the lapping waves of Lake Superior on a hot calm day. Shy, uncertain but reaching out. Cynthia rises from the silt-covered floor of her gutted house, speaking his name in reverent tones.

As much as I want to dash out the front door and greet this rare neighbor, I hold back, letting Cynthia guide him up the front steps. I’ve heard much about the man. Cynthia has a big heart for the elderly. He lives alone in his mother’s old house down the street. When she first moved to Ripley, a girl in the neighborhood told her that the man’s house was haunted. The lights came on after midnight.

Like many who live in seclusion, this neighbor keeps odd hours. He is the only specter in his domain. Cynthia befriended him not in person but on social media. Although only one house separates them, they chat late at night on Facebook. She’s told me how brilliant he is, knowing much about music and art. Vietnam secluded him, fenced him off from community.

It’s a kind gesture on his part that’s he’s ventured well beyond his comfort zone to see if Cynthia is okay. With last night’s rain, Ripley Creek overflowed, washing away the sandbags along Cynthia’s house. We’re filling out applications for funding and trying to find immediate resources so Cynthia can get temporarily housed. It worries me when my friend is unsure of where she is sleeping each night.

It’s also troubling to wait on the dictates of others — no one has a permanent solution for the Ripley drainage and the elephant hunkered on the hill above our community is the unstable sand escarpment that can trigger more landslides. Powers that be monitor the temporary silt mitigation, but no one knows how to work together or even if Federal funding is coming.

Another neighbor, HockyPuck because he has the personality of one, strode by earlier, bragging about how the flood got him started on his home improvement projects early. He can afford to put his family up in a hotel and start repairs without care to grants, funding or donations. I heard he was brave the night of the landslide, rescuing his wife and children. But he refuses to give me an interview because he’s too busy.

I want to say I’m not interested in his story anyway. It’s the broken fences I find more interesting. Who cares about a fence that never breaks because it has all the resources and support it needs. Capitalism forgets that while some earn a comfortable life surrounded by ornate fences, most struggle. My friend and this gentle neighbor buckle beneath worry and real-life fears.

But everyone’s story matters. When collecting the stories of an event — or even here at the Ranch, the way we collect multiple stories on a single theme — different perspectives contribute to the greater story of us all. No one is to be excluded. No perspective matters more than others. It’s not about the best but the invitation to have your story heard.

My friend is not without her support network. In fact, the fence of human hands that surround her is amazing. All these hands, reaching out, pulling up. Even the Hub showed up with his truck to build weirs and fill sandbags. A few friends did the best they could do. I returned home to finish some paperwork for Cynthia, and that’s when I opened a portal to a long-held dream.

It came via email like Elvis popping up in a chat box.

You see, the dream is old — I wanted to be Indiana Jones. Not just an archeologist, but one who traveled and adventured. Who learned in the field and archives. Who taught college and wrote books. Oh, that was the original Big Dream! I even left my hometown to study archeology for a semester. It didn’t work out.

In 1998, I graduated from college ten years after my first failed attempt. Back then, to be a career author, one had to get an MFA. I could have been a contender! Instead, I chose to be a wife and mother, and I veered from the dream and used my creative writing degree in a marketing career.

I never lost touch with my literary roots and as I gained life experience, I better understood what the Big Dream meant to me. To be Indiana Jones, I had to be open to adventure, travel, and discovery. I’m not an archeologist, but I certainly excavate stories from the layers of the past. I’m now writing, and I’ve taught workshops for years. Not exactly college, but satisfying enough.

Until now. Until the pinch-me-Elvis-sighting moment.

I’ve written here before about my presentation to 1 Million Cups. Carrot Ranch Literary Community made the evening news, and many in the room warmed to the idea of storytelling and flash fiction as a tool. Already, I’m finishing up a small but mighty gig I landed from that presentation, coaching six entrepreneurs to craft their 10-minute pitches in a series of 99-word stories. Tomorrow they test-run their speeches.

Another organization met with me after the 1MC presentation to talk about workshops — Finlandia University. I toured their facility on campus where I can use conference rooms and the large hall for public workshops. It’s great space from intimate settings to large presentations. I shared my Curricula Vitae and received an unexpected response — had I ever considered teaching adjunct?

Short answer, yes! And quickly followed by the fact that I never went on to get my MFA, let alone my Ph.D. to complete the Big Dream. However, it was suggested that my CV was robust enough to waive the masters. I felt light like a butterfly flitting among honeyed flowers. So, I looked at their need for adjuncts, of course. One stood out as perfect — a marketing course intended for high school students through a partnership with the university. I thought, why not try!

Today, I received my appointment at Finlandia University for nine months to teach the CTE Marketing course. That’s about as close as I’ll ever get to sighting Elvis! Never did I think that part of the Big Dream would happen without a different journey. It’s only 10 hours a week, all hands-on (so no homework), includes 60 hours of prep time (I get to design the course!), a budget for materials, a van for field trips, and my very own college classroom.

I’ve become Indiana Jones, after all. Carrot Ranch is my beloved field work of discovery and treasure; I have a college appointment to teach; and I continue to write novels through the stories I catch 99 words at a time.

Broken fences can be mended. Everyone’s story matters.

July 12, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a broken fence. You can mend it, leave it, or explain its place in a story. Go where the prompt leads.

Respond by July 17, 2018. Use the comment section below to share, read and be social. You may leave a link, pingback or story in the comments.

Horses Have Greater Value (from Rock Creek) by Charli Mills

“Blast it you duck-billed buffalo!” Cobb lunged at the stock handler.

Despite his injuries, Hickok dodged the charging man better than the bear that tore him up. “It weren’t me,” he said, confronting his angry boss.

“That busted fence didn’t happen on its own accord,” Cobb growled, pointing to the corral empty of horses.

“No Sir, pert sure it didn’t. Found it that way before you showed up. Recon’ Dock rode out after ‘em.”

“Then quit idling and get after that herd!”

Hickok sighed and set out on foot, his left arm hanging as useless at the fence post.


218 Comments

  1. magnoliajem says:

    Congratulations!

    Liked by 6 people

  2. denmaniacs4 says:

    A complex post Charli. It’ll build a lot of fences, and maybe repair some

    Old Hickson

    I would’ve come home anyways that summer. There was the job at the mill. This was in the days when a few months work could pay for a full year of edumacation.

    So, when mom called and said old Hickson had up and died, I knew there’d be a new layer of remembering.

    He was always the old guy next door. On the other side of our fence.

    His fence, really.

    As a kid, I avoided looking over.

    But one year, I was fourteen, I saw the way he looked at me.

    The lonely old bugger.

    And I knew.

    http://www.engleson.ca

    Liked by 10 people

  3. Norah says:

    That’s awesome, Charli. Congratulations! I’ve always been in favour of alternate paths, especially in education. It’s great to see that experience still counts as much as a piece of paper. It really should count for more. I’m so excited for you. No need to sight Elvis, Michigan Mills will do. Who knows what may come of this. We really do create our own possibilities. (That was the motto of the alternative school I attempted to open: create the possibilities.) Woohoo!
    I look forward to reading future stories you catch.

    Liked by 5 people

  4. Congratulations! Thank you for sharing your story, as well as the challenge story! I hope you will write some observations along the way. Cheering for you! I have shared your post on Facebook, and on my blog.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Wow, Charli, didn’t we just talk about from self-employment to employment? Congratulations, professor! Don’t worry about the gown with three stripes. I walked with the three stripes gown, but creativity and experience count. Not all the professors need to have them. I like “ho homework.” You design your course. Nothing can beat that.

    I’ll catch up with the broken fence soon.

    Liked by 6 people

    • Charli Mills says:

      Ha! Funny how we were just talking about that. I like how this will fit in nicely with my self-employment, basically filling in for a client. I didn’t think about walking! The stripes won’t matter — I’m thrilled experience counted and I get to design the course. Thank you!

      Liked by 2 people

      • Charli, don’t underestimate the filling in experience. I started out substituted for a school district. Then got a job at LA Unified School District. One year later, at a restaurant, the superintendent from the previous district came over to our table, offered an interview, and hired me the next day. That’s the district I worked for 25 years. You may be filling in long term!!

        Liked by 2 people

      • Charli Mills says:

        Thank you for that encouragement, Miriam!

        Liked by 1 person

  6. Congratulations!! Such big, exciting news to share! Pretty sure your class is going to be wait-listed the moment it becomes available 😀

    Liked by 3 people

  7. calmkate says:

    Congratulations Charli, that’s magic … I can hear your excitement, realising your dream and getting to design your own course! Couldn’t happen to a better person … now you will be super busy 🙂

    Liked by 3 people

  8. Annecdotist says:

    Congratulations Charli, I’m very excited for you and it shows it’s always worth putting ourselves out there as we never know what rewards it might reap. That’s something I’ve been musing on for another post, but today’s is a continuation of my picking on the hero’s journey. Seems almost churlish to post it right now when I want to celebrate your own elixir, but it fits with the theme of broken fences.
    However, with your illustrious president visiting us here in the UK demonstrating his idiosyncratic brand of diplomacy by criticising Theresa May’s Brexit strategy (and actually being right for once and agreeing with his predecessor), and for once I feel a profound sympathy for the Queen having to entertain him this afternoon, my 99-word story has a political bent. Strong and stable is about fences that really ought to be bridges:
    Narrative structure, psychoanalytic theory and the grief that never goes http://annegoodwin.weebly.com/1/post/2018/07/narrative-structure-psychoanalytic-theory-and-the-grief-that-never-goes.html

    Liked by 9 people

  9. Something There Is That Doesn’t Love a Wall

    “En guarde, Pal!”
    “Put that dang thing away Kid.”
    “Foiled again. But Shorty says we’re to fence.”
    “We’re ta mend fences Kid.”
    “Oh. Didn’t know we had a problem Pal.”
    “We’re fixin’ fences ‘round the Ranch.”
    “What’s that fence there do, keep the garden from strayin’?”
    “Keeps critters out.”
    “What about that fence? That keep critters out?”
    “No, that one keeps the cattle in, keeps ‘em from strayin’.”
    “Oh. Like if they reckon they’s greener pastures on the other side a the fence.”
    “Yep.”
    “Seems like they’s two sides, in and out.”
    “Yep.”
    “Seems like that could give offense.”

    https://shiftnshake.wordpress.com/ranch-yarns/

    Liked by 10 people

  10. susansleggs says:

    Wow and double wow. You told us you weren’t afraid of change in your life at the moment and look where you ended up, smack in the middle of your original life dream teaching at a college. What a powerful message to never give up. When one is meant to arrive at a destination it happens even when the roads aren’t the one we thought they would be. Happy for you.

    What a gift to Cynthia to have her reclusive neighbor venture into the daylight. Ripley’s problems are bringing a lot of goodness to light, just wish it wasn’t due to so much loss. So wish the govt. agencies knew how to work together in time of disaster!

    Will come back with a flash.

    Liked by 6 people

    • Charli Mills says:

      I didn’t see this twist coming! I was excited to lead workshops at the college! The Copper Country is certainly a treasure. Cynthia has decided she wants to rebuild, but lots of waiting on the parts of others involved. Disasters expose how dysfunctional government agencies have become. We need to change that. I look forward to your flash! Thanks, Sue!

      Liked by 2 people

  11. Write On Buckaroo Nation

    “Aussie!”
    “Kid, why’re you sketchin’? That was last week.”
    “Thought I’d sketch the Ranch. For perspective. Look, not a fence in sight.”
    “I see it that way too Kid. Free range.”
    “That’s right, free range! Where ever the prompts lead! No boundaries!”
    “While I appreciate your unbridled enthusiasm Kid, there’re always boundaries.”
    “What d’ya mean, Aussie?”
    “You’re free to range about, explore and express yourself, but within the bounds of societal norms.”
    “Oh. Maybe we oughtta fence out the new normal.”
    “No Kid, let’s see what comes and goes as we all range freely.”
    “Good ideas Aussie! Good ideas.”

    https://shiftnshake.wordpress.com/ranch-yarns/

    Liked by 12 people

  12. Jennie says:

    Congratulations, Charli! And, I dearly loved reading this story. Wow!

    Liked by 2 people

  13. […] to Charli Mills’ Carrot Ranch flash fiction challenge with the prompt “broken fence”. Stories are required to be exactly 99 words excluding […]

    Liked by 2 people

  14. Frank Hubeny says:

    Broken Fence by Frank Hubeny

    The Fredericks bought Adkins Estate with farmhouse, barn and sheds. The farm maintained itself from land rentals to local farmers. There was also a notorious fence separating it from ancient Indian burial grounds.

    That’s why they bought it. They planned to rent rooms to people wanting to spend the night in a haunted house.

    They repaired the buildings but broke the fence to make it look spookier. They called their website “Visit Fredericks’ Freaky Ghost House”.

    Many rented rooms and left five-star reviews until it became known that after changes to the fence, the ghosts no longer felt welcome.

    Liked by 6 people

  15. […] Carrot Ranch Prompt July 12, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a broken fence. You can mend it, leave it, or explain its place in a story. Go where the prompt leads. Respond by July 17, 2018. […]

    Liked by 1 person

  16. Jules says:

    Charli,

    First off, congratulations!!! To do something you love where you can inspire others and get paid – Woop-Woop!

    Some fences you can’t see. But they are still there… Like the Vet in your post.
    I went that route… but just a bit differently with:

    Emotional Barricades

    Clark could only imagine how his daughter felt. Mainly
    because he never asked. Then her thick letter arrived.
    He’d never had the opportunity to answer her questions
    before. It was about time he mended those fences with
    truth, even if it was just from his vantage point. Then he
    died.

    While cleaning out Clark’s paperwork his third wife found
    the letters relating memories that she selfishly couldn’t cope
    with. So, she trashed them.

    Years later the wife, in a conversation filled with anger,
    told the daughter what she did. Thus, creating a new
    unmendable fence cementing their shaky relationship.

    ©JP/dh

    Liked by 10 people

    • calmkate says:

      Ouch Jules … this sounds very familiar 😦

      Liked by 4 people

      • Jules says:

        I think the familiarity comes from recognizing that every now an then someone else makes a choice that perhaps wasn’t theirs to make. Legality though it may have been – possession being 9 tenths and all that… the responsible thing to to would be to honor even unspoken wishes of those who pass to let/help loved ones resolve issues.

        Liked by 3 people

      • calmkate says:

        I know several people who pry, lie and steal from their close ones … discernment is vital for many reasons, self protection is essential …

        Liked by 3 people

    • Charli Mills says:

      Thanks for celebrating with me, Jules! Ah, your flash put up a fence, but one that is needed. There are many ways to experience betrayal and this story describes one.

      Liked by 2 people

  17. […] This story was written for the Carrot Ranch’s 99-word flash fiction prompt: broken fence […]

    Liked by 3 people

  18. Here’s my take on it…hope you enjoy 🙂

    Grandpa’s Fence

    It was just an old wooden fence out back on my Grandpa’s property. Nothing to look at, nothing special. Every summer we took a bucket of whitewash out there and painted the fence. Time passed and when I was thirteen I refused to go visit. Hadn’t spoken to him in fifteen years. Not until the day Grandma died. I wasn’t invited to the funeral. It hurt, but I knew why. I left the family. I drove all night to get there on time. When he came home, I had the bucket of whitewash ready to mend our broken fence.

    Liked by 11 people

  19. Ritu says:

    Congratulations on your new post Charli! I am sure you will totally rock!!!
    Here’s my entry,
    http://butismileanyway.com/2018/07/13/july-12-flash-fiction-broken-fence/

    Liked by 8 people

  20. The Gap was like a hole in a fence, patched but forever failing.
    ‘The strength is in the surrounding support,’ the experts said.
    Support indeed, carrying, lifting, holding, protecting, but still The Gap remained.
    In desperation, the family closed ranks, thinking erroneously they were helping by providing shelter and respite.
    Their unity failed too as the recipient felt trapped, claustrophobic, judged, restricted and stifled, rebelling in anger, spite and bitterness.
    So it was agreed to leave The Gap alone, maintain the remainder and leave the open wound to heal or fester. Time would tell and they would be waiting.

    This might have duplicated Charli as my connection kept failing.

    Liked by 8 people

  21. […] Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge July 12 […]

    Liked by 1 person

  22. Hi Charli,
    Congratulations!

    And thank you for sharing with us the “zigs” and “zags” in your life that have led you to your Big Dream, in one way or another.

    I’ve enjoyed reading the comments already posted. Food for thought, as always.
    Sometimes I think of life as a kaleidoscope – of how quickly a pattern in life can change with a sudden “zig”, some unforeseen event or something beyond your control.

    “Zig-zagging” my thoughts towards a “broken fence” …

    Liked by 5 people

  23. papershots says:

    Congratulations on your appointment! 🙂 I’ve missed this challenge a lot because of, you know, when life gets in the way (as they say…) i do hope to come up with something this week. Thanks and here’s to your new post! 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  24. […] In response to: https://carrotranch.com/2018/07/12/july-12-flash-fiction-challenge/ […]

    Liked by 1 person

  25. […] Linking up with Flash Fiction Challenge […]

    Liked by 1 person

  26. syncwithdeep says:

    Congrats Charli. That was an inspiring story. Here is my take on the prompt ,
    https://syncwithdeep.wordpress.com/2018/07/14/unbroken-flash-fiction-challenge/

    Liked by 7 people

  27. The Final Frontier

    “If you don’t replace that board I will. I didn’t put this fence up so that you could ‘just see what I’m up to’ over here, and I certainly don’t want to see your crap.”
    His idea of a backyard was a place to putter with junk; hers tidy gardened areas and a well-appointed patio. The fence was her solution to the visual and spatial assaults when his piles increasingly spread and drifted towards her territory.
    He felt her solution only caused more problems. “It’s come between us,” he called over the fence.
    Sometimes her husband stated the obvious.

    Liked by 10 people

  28. Congratulations Charli! This is a wonderful opportunity, and well deserved too!

    And now, here’s my response to the prompt;

    He should have been a writer or a con artist. He should never have been both. Being both meant spending too much time in fantasy, loosing ground in reality. Now the consequences were beginning to show.

    “I don’t have a sister. Wait, I do.”

    The fence that should separate lies from the truth was breaking down.

    “Or maybe she was a cousin. How many of those did I say I had?”

    He mentally flipped through the reference book of his characters, then realized that was the wrong place and tried a family album, then realized the album was forged.

    Liked by 10 people

  29. susansleggs says:

    The Yellow Flower

    I was a reservist in Iraq, where everything inside and out of our barbed wire compound was sand colored, including the hazy air. One morning there was an unfamiliar excited buzz in the conversations. The words flower and yellow were prevalent. I listened for details. During the day I made it to the south side of the compound, where outside the fence, sprouting out of a pile of leftover razor sharp wire was a sorry excuse for vegetation. The weed wasn’t even green, but it had the most beautiful yellow flower on top. Hope growing out of the dust.

    (Based on a memoir written by Army Sgt. John Steele, a member of the Rochester, NY, Veteran’s Writing Group.)

    Liked by 10 people

  30. […] July 12: Flash Fiction Challenge […]

    Liked by 1 person

  31. Hi everyone here’s my contribution to this weeks Flash….

    The line between land and sky is dramatic. Purple meets gold, a haunting and deadly combination. The air is heavy tainted with a smell akin to burning.
    Bree dismounts holding the skittish appaloosas reins tight. The rain starts. Huge fat spots which turn cold and icy. And even though the cattle aren’t hers she hopes the strays that breached her fence have been rounded up and moved to a place of safety.
    Slade stands on his side of the boundary. ‘You have my steers, you cut the wire’. he screams. The charge in the air ratchets up a notch.

    Liked by 10 people

  32. […] Carrot Ranch, July 12, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write about a broken fence. You can mend it, leave it, or explain its place in a story. Go where the prompt leads. […]

    Liked by 1 person

  33. oneletterup says:

    An inspiring prompt…also inspired by the previous challenge.

    My contribution for this week’s flash:

    Matter of Time

    Damn her.

    His hand hurt like hell. She’d broken the skin.
    Blood smeared onto the bed as he pulled himself up.

    Damn her.

    He stumbled out the open back door into the yard.
    He lit a cigarette and growled…
    “I know you’re out here. It’s just a matter of time.”

    Moonlight reflected off the chicken wire on the old split rail fence. The entire yard surrounded. And overgrown.

    He smiled and spoke…
    “You Know There’s No Way Out.”

    Then he noticed it. Mangled wire. Rotted wood in pieces. An opening.

    A broken fence had ruined everything.

    She was gone.

    Liked by 7 people

  34. […] Carrot Ranch Prompt (07/12/2018): In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a broken fence. You can mend it, leave it, or explain its place in a story. Go where the prompt leads […]

    Liked by 2 people

  35. Liz H says:

    Stopping here to take a breath before pacing off into more peaceful meadows:

    I Threw a Shoe

    She sits on the highway’s gravel shoulder, rubbing her sore, unshod feet. The sun presses hard on her head and shoulders.

    She roots through her backpack, amazed at all the crap picked up on her journey, and pushes it away, disgusted; had she truly traveled so far without a sip of water on hand?
    . [Continue ]

    Liked by 8 people

  36. […] Charli’s prompt this week was: […]

    Liked by 1 person

  37. Wow, congrats on the new feather in your already-crowded cap Charli. To honor this achievement, I wrote my inspirational story with a Charli as the protagonist. Have fun. https://jagahdilmein.wordpress.com/2018/07/16/resilience/

    Liked by 8 people

  38. […] in response to Carrot Ranch’s Flash Fiction Prompt. Check it […]

    Liked by 1 person

  39. susansleggs says:

    A Gift

    “Grandpa, there’s a round green thing growing out back by the broken fence.”
    “There is? We better take a look.”
    After a slow painful walk, Grandpa said, “I’d say that’s going to be a pumpkin.”
    “Can we keep it?”
    “Rightly it belongs to the neighbors. It’s their vine coming through the hole.”
    “Let’s not tell them.”
    “Would that be right?”
    “No, but can we wait till it gets big so I can watch it grow?”
    “No harm in that.”
    A few weeks later they found a note near the big, almost orange pumpkin, “It’s yours. Carve it for Halloween.”

    Liked by 7 people

  40. […] week, when Charli Mills at the Carrot Ranch challenged writers to In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a broken fence. You can mend it, leave it, or exp…, I spent quite a bit of time fence sitting, undecided about which fence story to […]

    Liked by 3 people

  41. 99 words of congratulations to you, Charlie:

    Broken fences get mended; isolated men befriended.

    When tragedy strikes, our hearts need love; shelter from the rain above.

    Tragedy’s brush paints uneven strokes; some easily recover, others remain broke.

    Perhaps in wallet but not in spirit, community support helps to heal it.

    Not all is lost and fireweeds grow, the prompts we receive have a tie to their flow.

    Some dreams we let fade based on choices we make, what-ifs play on loop regretting paths we didn’t take.

    But the right path for us is the one that we choose, Charli we are here to celebrate your news!!

    Liked by 8 people

  42. […] July 12: Flash Fiction Challenge […]

    Liked by 1 person

  43. Fred is howling at the moon tonight in exhileration for you Charli! Sooo incredibly proud of you, my hero, Indiana Mills. I’ll be back shortly 🙂 ❤

    Liked by 3 people

  44. Hi again Charli, back with my flash. There is so much more I want to say…but what strikes me the hardest is how it seems that the closer we come to our dream, the harder we have to fight. And then, when it seems it is all over, a door opens and without understanding what just happened, we walk through it into our new beginning. Just like you did, and as Cynthia will when, at last, she is returned to her beloved home ❤

    Frayed

    Exhaustion seeps through me like melting lead. I feel older than my years, stretched too thin like frayed rope. Tie another knot. Maybe it will hold a little longer. Or maybe it will slip and come undone. There is no more space to fill with let-me-help-you. I wander, aimlessly, from one broken fence to another, and my helplessness mocks me in the scrape of splintered wood against my skin. Bleed, then. Stick me again, and again I will bleed. Then I will cuss and rage and come to life, and I will wield my hammer and nails and rebuild.

    Liked by 7 people

  45. […] Words. Written in response to Carrot Ranch’s July 12 Flash Fiction Challenge  and to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers  Gulls photo prompt courtesy […]

    Liked by 2 people

  46. […] Carrot Ranch July 12, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about a broken fence. You can mend it, leave it, or explain its place in a story. Go where the prompt leads. […]

    Liked by 2 people

  47. Charli, I’m so happy to hear your good news!

    Here’s my story. It’s a bit late to the party, but that’s usually how it goes for me. :/

    Hidden Garden
    Written by Kerry E.B. Black

    Erin swung the two loose boards of the fencing and scampered beneath, heedless of the dirt grinding into her knees and palms. She shouldn’t enter this yard any more than an errant Peter Rabbit should raid Mr. MacGregor’s garden, but something about the forbidden draws the adventurous spirit. Once she discovered the accessibility of the fence and that it was just her size, she couldn’t resist.

    She hunkered beneath a hydrangea to take in the scene. The old lady’s yard outdid any park Erin had ever seen, with fragrant swaths of flowers surrounding bizarre statues. Why did she hide it away?

    Liked by 4 people

    • Jules says:

      Sometimes artists like to hide their work. Too much traffic spoils the appeal. I would like to imagine that this little girl and the old lady become friends…

      Liked by 3 people

    • Charli Mills says:

      Thanks, Kerry! The barn is always open at the Ranch! Good to have waves of writers passing through at all hours. 🙂

      Oh, no! I fear for Erin and her curiosity at the size of the hole and the bizarre statues! This fence is a trap.

      Liked by 1 person

  48. […] July 12: Flash Fiction Challenge […]

    Liked by 1 person

  49. Eric Pone says:

    The Short Way-

    Suzie and Sue made their way along the fence perimeter owned by the Jamison Cartel in Columbia. Suzie was intent in her search.

    “What are you looking for?” Sue in a whispered voice.

    “There is always a broken section in a fence. And its always out of the way. Be patient love.”

    Around the bend, they found the break. A broken section of fence with paint long since withered. Suzie thumb her comm.

    “Found a break target acquisition in one hour.” She said.

    “Roger That! Standing By” came the reply from Ginger playing sniper and their cover 2200 meters away.

    Liked by 2 people

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