To my readers in the States, will you be traveling for Thanksgiving this week? Whether you’re driving or flying, you should expect delays. So try not to get too frustrated. This is a time to be “thankful” after all.
Written for #MicroMondays, click here for challenge details, and here to read more “stupid” tales at 21 words.
“No, sun. Go away.” Half her face hidden underneath covers, Leah watches Mischa stand in front of the balcony window, fully naked, only the ocean to see what gave her so much pleasure the night before.
She doesn’t want this cruise to end, doesn’t want to go back to Seattle, or Mischa to the other side of the Atlantic.
“Sink back into the sea,” she begs the sun. Give her one more night of love.
Somehow, while packing, I didn’t consider that Alaska in July would still be chilly. I’m not on the balcony two seconds before I dash back inside to grab a blanket.
We’re docked at our final port-of-call, Juneau, but with this grayscale heavy drizzle, I think I’ll download a movie, order room service, drink complementary bottled water from a wine glass.
Monday’s One-Minute Fictionchallenges you to write a story in one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided. We’re finishing September with more Alaska-themed prompts. This week’s one-word prompt is: dock.
I make sure she’s under the center of the bed. The room will start to smell soon, but maybe our cabin steward won’t notice when he comes to clean it.
But I gotta get lost. Hit an emergency button and head for the muster station to board the lifeboats. Women and children first, but with the right make up, one of her padded bras, and that horrible blond wig she brought, maybe I can pass.
Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a story in one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided. For the next several weeks our prompts will be Alaska themed. This week’s prompt is: women and children first.
When I returned from Alaska, everyone at work asked if I was on the ship where the man killed his wife. 😱 No, thank goodness, but you knew a story was coming. 😉 This guy apparently did it because she kept laughing at him. I wonder what provoked our narrator . . .
“No salmon here, eh?” he says. “Too much sediment. Hard for ’em to see. That’s why the water’s so blue.”
Why go fishing in a fjord where there were no fish? And it’s freezing! Icebergs everywhere. Somewhere there’s a glacier, but it’s melted so far back.
He wraps his arms around me from behind, whispers, “Why don’t we go below deck. Get some hot coco, eh?” It’s the best thing he’s said all morning.
Monday’s One-Minute Fictionchallenges you to write a story in one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided. Did you notice the Canadian flag in last week’s photo prompt? This is my bad attempt at a Canadian accent. 😂
We weren’t afraid of the bears—wild salmon berries growing so close to his cabin.
The tour group was headed for the boats when he planted the forget-me-nots in my hair, lured me back into the woods.
Captain must have lost count; no one came looking.
The ship leaves at seven. It’s a 70 minute boat ride back to port, but time stands still when he kisses me again.
Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a story in one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided. For the next several weeks our prompts will be Alaska themed. This week’s prompt is the state flower: Forget-me-not.
The thunderous roar of the rushing water captures everyone’s attention. Waterfalls have a knack for drawing in large crowds.
No one bothers to look upstream, where the salmon spawn. Where Rick and I undress, neatly fold our clothes and lie them on the dampened boulders that line the banks.
The water is warmer than I expect. But then I’m burning with impatience, and I’m numb below my waist, eager only for his touch.
He slowly approaches, and I drop to me knees, as gracefully as I can, splashing the shallow water, sinking into the sediment and broken-up rocks, hoping not to disturb the female laying her eggs next to me.
His everything in my face, I open my mouth and let him in, and it’s as if everything in this dense Alaskan rainforest—one hundred years ago buried under sheets of ice—goes silent. Watching.
A drop on my forehead, and then a drizzle. We hear the patter of feet as waterfall spectators race back to the shelter. No one veering off the path, where the shrubs part, to climb down the steep hill and catch a glimpse of mother nature doing her best work.
The ripples in the water multiple as we lie midstream, the surface barely covering his back. The rain picks up, urging him on, and with each draw back and thrust forward, he creates tiny waves that crash against the back of my thighs as we copulate alongside the salmon in a place reserved for wildlife, letting our primal instincts loose.
When I saw the seeds in the tramway gift shop, I had to buy them. They said no food, plants, or natural products off the ship, but nothing about what we could bring back on.
Safely tucked away in a hidden pocket of my purse through customs, when I get home I plant them in the red clay and sparse grass of my backyard.
I never knew how fast this stuff could grow.
Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a story in one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided. For the next several weeks our prompts will be Alaska themed. Check out this week’s one-word prompt is fireweed, which is EVERYWHERE in Alaska!
It’s hard to believe that glaciers are massive rivers of ice, that you can trace the current in how they curve around the mountainside.
“About 300 feet melted off last year, so it’s a rapidly retreating glacier,” the tour guide is saying.
I nudge Jon with the end of my paddle, “Still think global warming is a hoax?”
He only rolls his eyes. “We’re on vacation.”
Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a story in one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided. For the next serval weeks our prompts will be Alaska themed. Check out this week’s photo prompt of the Davidson Glacier in Haines, Alaska (not too far from Skagway)!
Bre dipped her makeup sponge into the green foundation.
Alicia sat in the aisle seat, her Dorothy costume packed inside the garment bag folded atop her lap. “Oh, I was just gonna change in the bathroom at the depot.”
Bre dabbed her cheeks. A large man in a cowboy hat walking sideways down the aisle smiled a gap-toothed grin at her emerald complexion. He kneed the back of her chair as he flopped into the window seat behind her. Bre rolled her eyes. “I’ll be the wicked witch before we even get to Tijuana.”
word count: 94
This piece of flash fiction is in response to this week’s photo prompt for Friday Fictioneers. It’s been quite some time since my last Friday Fictioneers post. I’m happy to return on such a special week: Rochelle’s 3-year-anniversary as facilitator. Congratulations Rochelle!