Still Life

The Sunday Flash Factory 5 to 50/55 challenge prompt words in bold.

They called him Camel because of his humped back. He was a master artist, his medium pasta. His most recent exhibit was of a pride of lions. He called it Wanderers. The title more suited him, especially after the earthquake leveled his home and killed his wife and two sons.

For Better or Worse

The Sunday Flash Factory 5 to 50/55 challenge prompt words in bold.

I married a penguin. Her waddle made for a scenic view. Our feud began shortly after the ceremony. She accused me of being an alien. I retorted she should have come with a manual. We bicker like politicians, neither of us giving in. It's been that way for six years. We plan on many more.

The Battle of Jericho

Like every morning, the sun rose in the east, the neighbor's German Shepard barked at who knows what, and Jericho's parents' angry words flowed from the kitchen like a muddy stream racing off a fire-ravaged mountain.

Jericho pulled the covers off, sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, slid off the bed, and sighed as another day began with a prayer unanswered. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the perfect family portrait, but the faces were always of his friends. He knew running away wasn't the answer.

An idea came to him, and he smiled. He dressed and bounded off toward the kitchen to do the only thing he knew might work.

"Morning." Jericho walked to the table and sat in his chair, the one facing the window. "Sky sure is blue today, isn't it."

His parents stopped bickering. Jericho knew it was temporary, but it was a start.