The Sunday Flash Factory 5 to 50/55 challenge prompt words in bold.
#1 (55 words)
Coyote leaned against the wall and tapped the tambourine against his thigh. Hopeful aromas from the bakery across the street penetrated the frozen air. He glanced at the hat. Two more dollars, and he could get a bagel and some coffee. It wasn't like this yesterday, not until Mistress Sandy changed the meaning of life.
#2 (50 words)
The coyote stood where buildings used to be and howled. Stones propelled by frozen winds tumbled past sounding like plaintive tambourines appealing for alms. He sniffed the air, the bakery aromas replaced by smoke and gasoline. He ambled away but felt he wouldn't be safe for long anywhere he went.
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Now it's your turn to write a story of exactly 50 or 55 words using the bold words. If you like your effort, feel free to post it in the comments section of this post. Hey, you could even challenge your writing friends.
ADVISORY: CONTENT ON THE RAUNCHY SIDE
ReplyDeleteChangling
Her midnight tambourine calls me. I open the door and she opens her robe. A breath of air off the frozen lake tightens her nipples. I am the bakery boy. It is a game we play.
"Take me," she gasps.
The coyote inside me howls.
"Yes, Mother," I say.
Steamy! ^__^
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DeleteGood one, AJ, with an unexpected twist at the end.
DeleteHaunting as ever Aj.
DeleteYeah, that last line is a nasty, little number. My stomach flipped.
Delete(54 words)
ReplyDeletePredator
I was wild, so they called me Coyote. I waited in the night’s frozen air for her to close up the bakery. They called her Tambourine on account of the way she tapped her hips from side to side as she walked. I imagined how it would feel when I got to play her.
Steamy right back at'cha HH. :)
DeleteOoh. We have another winner.
DeleteVery hot.
Delete(53 words)
ReplyDeleteCoyote, against the brick wall outside the bakery, firing up another cigarette. In the frozen air, it's the only source of warmth. He's been firing one after another, waiting for her. The tambourine girl. She's ducked inside for her daily Joe and bagel. Coyote can't wait to sink his teeth into something sweet.
Whan Mr. Grant brings it, he brings it.
DeleteNothing like a sweet treat, Chris. :)
ReplyDelete(55 words)
ReplyDeleteThe tambourine girl, stopping in for her daily cup of coffee and bagel, saw Coyote outside the bakery and smiled. The frozen air that hung between them spelled out exactly what he wanted from her. Instead of turning around, she went in, knowing what to expect once she exited, a feral look in her eyes.
This should be a fun encounter. However, I think I'll watch from a distance.
DeleteI'll stay outside too, Jim. We can watch the tables and chairs crash through the window.
Delete(50 Words)
ReplyDeleteThe Baker Man.
The heat from the back door of the bakery is a welcome relief to the frozen air of this cold November night. A tambourine can be heard from the apartment above, as I leave my cardboard home to collect some fresh bread. Times are tight but the baker man isn't.
Nice one David. So much in so few words
DeleteBrief but hits straight to the heart, David. That's one good flash.
ReplyDeleteNice! Love the positive image.
ReplyDeleteAn Arctic wind whistled its way through the disused bakery where the frozen body of Coyote lay curled up in a once fiery oven. His stench pervaded air that had once beheld homely smells. Never again would his tambourine rattle for pennies to spend on cheap liquor or cheaper women.
ReplyDelete50 Words
DeleteGood one, Graham.
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ReplyDeleteLooks like Coyote got the hole, not the donut, Graham. Visual, graphic and lonely. Cool.
DeleteThis was fun. We'll have to do it again!
ReplyDeleteIt was fun, Jim. I've already got people wondering if you're going to do it again soon.
ReplyDeleteA new prompt is posted every Sunday. Tell your friends to be on the lookout.
DeleteWill do Jim. Going to quote you. Cool.
ReplyDeleteApologies guys - I didn't include coyote. Thanks for not pointing and laughing at me, too! :-)
ReplyDeleteThe Baker Man.
The heat from the back door of the bakery is a welcome relief to the frozen air of this cold November night. A tambourine can be heard from the apartment above as I leave my cardboard home, prowling like a hungry coyote, to collect some fresh bread. Times are tight but the baker man isn’t.
~End~