The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #238

The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #238

Sunday, July 9, 2017

One Image, One Prompt, One Emotion

200 Words

Ineluctably

A Birthday Wish

3 thoughts on “The Iron Writer Weekend Quickie #238

  1. Movin’ On

    Dave Zampano had blown into town and “pitched his tent” back when his employer transferred him down here many years ago . But is was ineluctable that Dave would have to move again. He moved way up north, but kept his place down here; rented it out, but that turned into an ordeal. The renters hadn’t been as diligent as Dave had hoped and the place was beginning to need some attention. On his birthday, Dave flew down to check it out. Maybe he would sell it. Being a landlord was for the birds.

    As he approached the place, many memories came to mind. He pictured the clothes line with all his drying laundry wafting in the warm summer breeze; the smoke pouring from the chimney on those cold winter days; and all the colorful hand-made tapestries he hung on the outside to brighten up the place all year round.

    Mixed emotions churned inside him as he struggled over the decision to sell. He loved the place, but managing it from so far away, all that landlord stuff, and the operating expenses weighed heavily in the equation. Climbing to the roof to sit and think, Dave wished the whole ordeal would be over. It was all getting on his nerves; what with juggling all his commitments in the north, and having this place up in the air, too. He could hardly wait to get his feet back on the ground.

    Dave cautiously scooted over by the satellite dish and tried not to look straight down.

  2. Beyond a glinting sea of parked cars, the fairgrounds brightly colored canvas tents rose up, their banners fluttering against the summer sky. A trip to the county fair was my little brothers birthday gift. Little did I know it’d be the last time we saw planet earth.

    My mom handed me two dollars, one for me and one for my younger brother Cyril. We agreed to meet her back at the entrance gate by noon and then set off to explore the fair. We wandered through livestock exhibits of prize-winning pigs, carefully coiffed lambs, and well-preened cockerels. A shortcut through the canning exhibit of champion peach preserves and blue-ribbon jams brought us to the carnival rides. The Zipper, The Woop-T-Do, and The Whirl-A-Gig. Perennial fairground favorites with long, snaking lines of excited kids and soon-to-be nauseous parents.

    But it was the tent painted with huge Day-Glo alien landscapes, rocket ships and spacemen with ray guns that made me and Cyril gawk in wonderment. From inside we heard electronic bleeps and blips and atop the tent, a funnel puffed little clouds of steam.

    Ineluctably, we both held out crumpled dollar bills to the man wearing a silver spacesuit and reflective helmet. He snatched our money and dropped two quarters change into each of our hands. He said something in a language neither Cyril nor I could understand; we shrugged in puzzlement and with that, he ushered us through the curtains.

    I hoped that 50 cents would be enough to get us passage back to planet earth by noon.

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