The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #45


The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #45

One Image

One Prompt

One Emotion

200 Words

A Warning Sign in the Woods

An errand for your Mother


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13 thoughts on “The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #45

  1. Just once I would like to play with other children my age. Mother would not approve. She rarely approves of what I do unless it is something she has asked me to do.

    For instance, Mother wants me to place a sign near the main road where the gravel path splits off leading back to our house. She was specific about what the sign should say. “DON’T GO IN THE WOODS”. I asked why she wanted me to hang a sign that says to keep out even though we have visitors from time to time. Mother only scolded me for being too stupid to understand.

    Sometimes I get so lonely. Mother never lets me see the visitors we do get. She must be so ashamed of me.

    We had visitors over just yesterday. Sometimes I wonder why anyone would want to come visit Mother. She must have lots of money hidden away. I can’t imagine it’s to socialize. Mother is not very nice.

    But, I am glad they do because they bring us food and we were almost out. After I hang the sign, Mother wants me to cut up the meat they brought and hang it in the cellar.

  2. “Johnny, run out’n na woods an’ fetch me some morels, woodja, Hon?”
    “Sure, Mother dear.” Grabbing my favorite wicker basket, I bounded out the kitchen door, and skipped down the path.

    Passing by the neighbor’s, I waved, “Mornin’ Mrs. Lox, I chortled.
    She wasted no time advising me, “Don’t go out in the woods today, Johnny. You best stay home!”

    Just then, Suzie came by on her bike. Hollering over her shoulder, she warned, “Don’t go out in the woods today, unless you take me with you, Johnny!”

    Walkin’ up to the wood-line I stopped dead cold at a sign readin’, “Don’t go in the woods”. “I wonder if ought not go in there.” I said, and then I went right on in and commenced to lookin’ for mushrooms.

    Well, there I was rootin’ around in the litter when I heard an awful commotion. I looked up, screamed and ran, fast as lightnin,’ back home, burst into the kitchen and declared emphatically, “If you go out to the woods today, you’d better had stay at home. If you go out to the woods today you better not go alone, for every bear that ever there was is gathered there, for certain, because today’s the day the teddy bears have their picnic!”

  3. Little Red Shiny Jordan listened to his darling mother.
    “Now, run along into the forbidden Iron Writer woods and take your Aunty Brian his weekly beer and jello.”
    “Arr, Mom! Do I have to?”
    His mother rubbed his shiny little head.
    “And don’t forget to start that nice little relay idea of yours in his website’s forum when you get there…What’s wrong? You look suspicious, my little man?”
    “Someone’s been sitting in my chair…”
    “Wrong tale, son, wrong tale. Now get going, he’s waiting. And what have I told you about wearing sunglasses in the house?”
    Little Red Shiny Jordan skipped his way through the woods and past the “Don’t go in the woods” sign put there to stop the fly-by-nighters’ voters from entering.
    Suddenly, from behind a facebook comment, out popped Mamie Fox and Amanda Wolf.
    “Hello there. What’s a fine-looking little chicken leg like you doing in the woods?”
    “I’m running an errand for my Mom. Ooo, Mamie Fox, what big hair you have.”
    “All the better to mess your mind up with.”
    “And Amanda Wolf, what strange big mesmorising eyes you have.”
    “All the better to twist your little heart up. Come, Mamie Fox, supper has arrived….”


    The publican of the country pub frowned. We’d walked over a straw-strewn path then through a water-bath but he was taking no chances. “Ye saw the sign? No walking in the woods?” He stared at our muddy boots.

    “Of course not,” my fiancé Seth said stoutly. I could never lie like that.

    My hand crept to the bulbs in my pocket. But I followed Seth in. We were soon tucking into local beer and a ploughman’s plate.

    The Lake Country was not what we’d envisioned. A profusion of signs blocked each enticing path leading into the open woods, constraining us to the paved surfaces of roads. Seth hated restrictions.

    Once home, having smuggled in the bulbs for my mother, I said, “I hope these wild bluebells are worth stealing, lying and breaking I-don’t-know-how-many laws for. Don’t ever send me on such an errand again.”

    2001 will be remembered for the huge pyres of animals being cremated in the UK, ten million sheep and cattle killed; ruined farmers; export marketing of meat damaged for years.

    For months afterwards, I lived in fear I’d brought the disease home.

    Seth? I broke up with him.

    Bluebells or no bluebells, who wants to marry a man who can lie so convincingly, so easily?

  5. It wasn’t that far, the body that I had buried, just a few more steps. I picked up the shovel and looked at the once exposed earth and started to dig. Words rang in my ears all day coming from my mother, “Don’t go into the woods, Elsa. The woods are dangerous.” I couldn’t help but think there was nothing dangerous about the woods, just the people in them. I shoveled and sweat and my back burned from the movements. I could feel every movement in my body, and I wasn’t even that old. Life was taking over my once young-looking features. Guilt was starting to show all over with every grey hair and wrinkle.
    Twenty minutes into my digging I heard the ping from my shovel hitting the metal. I nearly cried to the God that I had once believed in. I got down and hurriedly brushed the rest of the dirt away. My hands and knees were filthy, my face streaked with dirt and grime.
    “What are you doing?” a little voice asked. I felt my heart hammer in my chest. I nearly lost it right there on top of the metal box.
    I turned toward the voice and saw a little boy, a bb gun in his hands. I smiled up at him as sweet as I could.
    “Oh, I buried a time capsule here years ago,” I found myself saying.
    The little boy smiled and shook his head. “No you didn’t.”
    I panicked for a minute, not understanding why this kid was here in the woods alone in the first place. Where were his parents anyway?
    “Yes I did,” I said once more. “I was just digging it up, but I probably should just…cover it back up. It’s bad luck to take one out before its time.”
    “That’s not a time capsule.”
    “Listen, kid,” I said, growing frustrated, “where are your parents? You shouldn’t be here.”
    The boy looked over his shoulder and the wind picked up a bit as I could see leaves fly around him. The kid’s hair didn’t budge, his clothes stayed put, but everything around him moved. It was odd. Why didn’t the wind move his shirt?
    My hands started to tremble, my throat grew thick. “Who are you?” I asked gruffly.
    The kid didn’t answer, he just pointed to the ground toward the metal box. I felt my knees wobble, I felt the bile rise up in my throat.
    “Wh….wh….who are you!”
    He pointed underneath my feet once more. The metal box was where he was pointing. “No! No!” I yelled. I fell to my knees; my hands went to my head. “No!”

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