Posts Tagged ‘military’

Friday Fictioneers is based on the seemingly simple premise of one photo turning into a one hundred-word story.  Often much blood, sweat and tears go into the honing of those few words and an enormous variety of stories are presented weekly.  You can read the results by clicking on the link at the end of this post or participate by going to the web site of our hostess, Rochelle, who also provided this photo of a stairway for this week’s jumping-off point.

                                   Of Knocking Down Barriers and Climbing Stairs

Some days it was so difficult to try to help;
    to see them stumbling, falling, dropping things,
    to hear swears of frustration, anger, pain,
    to witness their lonely, determined struggles.    

Some had scars/burns that changed them beyond recognition.
Some had wives/husbands/parents/children who never came;
    who couldn’t bear the sight of what their loved ones had become
    or what they no longer were:

   whole, strong, healthy bulwarks,
   confident and confidants,
   husbands/wives/parents/children with resources to care, 
   who looked the way they were remembered.

Yet they had fought, and sometimes now wish they had died, for us and for our freedom.

We who participate in writing 100-word stories for Friday Fictioneers are endorsed by no less than Lord Polonius in Hamlet, who famously said:

Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,
I will be brief:

And brief we are, although in some cases, the introductions and backstories more than double our flash fiction output!  To participate and get “the rules” as well as the prompt, go to the online home of Flash Gordon’s sister, Rocket Rochelle, and jump right in.  To dip your feet in by just reading, go to the end of my story (reading, liking and commenting fulsomely on it first, of course), then click on the blue critter at the end.  That will take you across the galaxy, through time and space, to a mad variety of stories all derived in some way, shape or form, from the photo prompt, although sometimes most tenuously.   Hold on to your hat and enjoy the ride.

Now before I reach “tediousness”, I shall end the introduction and become witty.  (I can but hope, right?)

Copyright Adam Ickes

Copyright Adam Ickes

Boots on the Ground

Alex being deployed overseas was always hard.  But those “special” postings meant I sometimes didn’t hear anything for days and, occasionally, weeks.  Whoever said “No news is good news” was clueless!   Always tamped down as deeply as I could squash it was the nightmare of two uniformed figures at the door, hats in hands, beginning expressionlessly, “We’re sorry to inform you…”

Walking back from the lake, I spotted an unfamiliar car in the drive. Deliberately stilling my mind, I turned the corner of the house… and spotted her boots in front of the door.   Thank God!  Alexandra was safely home.



As seems to be the story of my life recently, I’ll be traveling or out of town Friday through next Wednesday.  Being gone six of the fourteen days before Christmas means the others will rather busy, getting ready for family and a friend to be with us at Christmas.  That means virtually no time for reading/commenting, so if I don’t get to your story, it’s not because I didn’t want to.  It also means that I won’t be posting a story (same reasons) the next two weeks.  They will be devoted to family, friends and the celebration of the birth of our Savior.  Real life trumps the virtual, especially during this season.

May this be a time of blessing for you, whether you celebrate Christmas or not, a time to share with those you love, and a time of blessing both in ending this year and in 2014.

Another week.  Daily, the unseen pull grows stronger, until the mid-week mirror lures us Narcissus-like to stare into its smooth surface for our inspiration.

No refuge.  The tentacles of creation wind  ’round us, dragging us inexorably toward the keyboard to satisfy the craving.  Sweet addiction!  Our drug of choice.

Go on; give in. Choose your word-weapon.  Wield it fearlessly.
You are a Fictioneer!



Genre:  Poetry

He lay, sweating, behind the rocks
           weighted down with the implements of death and survival
           always vigilant.

He returned (better off than many)
            sometimes cringing at loud noises
            enduring headaches and bad dreams.

He stood, sweating, by the barn
            the air freighted with the scent of summer
            swathed in silence.

He was good with his hands
            thought how he’d reclaim the land
            prayed it might make him sane again.

He observed a shadow overhead
            (only a hawk in this time and place
            dropping like a bomb towards lunch.)

He lay, sweating, in the fragrant grass
            mind mercifully blank
            sleeping, beginning.

In a moment of serendipity, today on the anniversary of D-Day, while shopping, I met a veteran of the United States Airforce and his wife.  I thanked him for his service and we talked awhile about his experiences. (more…)