love match

My parents wanted me married, out of the house. My father was a no-account with a rum blossom on his nose; my mother constantly urged me to go into town and gather orange blossoms (look for a wife, if you’re not from around here).

I went into town, and found a young woman just ready to bloom, to come into blossom. She was a vivacious young creature, rejecting the beaux buzzing about her, her cap set for a young man ready to blossom into something himself. As it happens, her name was Blossom.

Love blossomed, as did we both.

for Carrot Ranch Friday Flash Fiction Challenge

He Who Hesitates…

I was on vacation in Virginia City when I stopped into an antique store to browse. In the back I found a stack of New Yorker magazines from the Thirties. I opened one at random and found a movie review of “The Wizard of Oz.”

Huh. Interesting. Put the magazine down.

Thought about it that evening. Returned the next day and headed for the back of the store. The stack of New Yorkers was gone.

Up front, I asked a handsome young fellow where the New Yorkers were kept.

“Sold the lot yesterday,” he said, “but I got Life.”

for Flash Fiction Challenge

A Walk

Walking through this young forest on a game trail, I breathe deeply. The path beneath my feet is soft. Light from a friendly sun, filtered through green canopy, dapples my face. The variety of trees here is amazing. Beech, tulip, oaks and hickories, other hardwoods. An understory of hornbeam, flowering dogwood, strawberry bush. Animals of all kinds thrive in this forest. That’s the word. Thrive. An environment in balance but evolving through vigorous growth. I count my breaths as I walk, to clear my mind. To let in the positive vibrations that envelope me. Life is good in Antartica.

for https://carrotranch.com/2020/06/19/june-18-flash-fiction-challenge-2/

new invention

“They won’t patent it,” I said, when I had returned to Naples from Rome.
“Of course not. You can’t patent a recipe,” said my friend, the chef Raffaele Esposito.
“I thought if I petitioned the pope…”
“Listen, everyone eats flatbread. This focaccia…”
“No.”
“This family-sized piadina or borlengo or … I can serve it to King Umberto and Queen Margherita. They are visiting Naples. I am to make a meal for them. Let me use your invention,”
This was in 1889. He served it, they liked it, and shortly my name was lost to history and Raffaele’s name was elevated.

for Fiction Challenge