Scoot is taking some time away from providing new prompts, but encouraged his FFF fans to pick and choose from prompts posted throughout the year, listed here. I scrolled around and selected these:
Write about sleeping in a car
boxed skies
“something’s up”
A character who is just passing through
Birdie rubbed the sleep from her eyes as the flashlight beam pierced the window.
“You alright in there?” The man’s voice was deep, tinged with a smoker’s rasp. He sounded sympathetic, but Birdie didn’t trust cops. She sat up and cranked the window down a couple of inches.
“Yes, sir,” she said. “Just passin’ through and got sleepy. Figured a little nap was better than crashing.”
“Wise thinking,” came the reply, “but you can’t park and sleep here. There’s a truck stop at the next exit where you can take your power nap and get a terrible cup of coffee. I’ll follow you to make sure you get there.”
Birdie looked up with suspicion. “No thank you, Officer. I’ll be fine. Thank you for letting me know it’s there.”
The flashlight moved away as the officer returned to his car without another word. Birdie yawned, started the engine, and eased back onto the quiet freeway. She didn’t understand why rigs like hers weren’t allowed to use the shoulder in the middle of the night on the east side of nowhere. It wasn’t as if she was interfering with the flow of traffic—there wasn’t any. Still, she sighed and headed for the truck stop. Even a bad cup of coffee might help her make it to her destination, where she could unload and pick up a new haul to get her through the week.
The pumps at the truck stop were fully lit but eerily empty. Birdie pulled her truck toward the back, but she didn’t see anyone else around. The quick mart where she hoped to find coffee or an energy drink appeared to be closed and locked.
Birdie jumped down from the cab to double-check, but the doors weren’t just locked—they were boarded up from the inside. As she scanned the windows, she realized all of them were covered the same way. A chill ran down her spine, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up.
“Somethin’s up here, and I don’t want no part of it.”
She wasn’t sure she’d said the words aloud, but a cackle rose from the pumps.
“Well then, git!” The voice was sharp and scratchy, like a needle rubbing an old vinyl record. Birdie jumped and looked around.
“Who’s there?” she said, hoping her quavering insides weren’t reflected in her voice.
“I’m just the keeper of the tales here. You go on an git before you become one of my stories.”
The crackling voice didn’t need to repeat itself. Birdie ran for the truck and hauled herself into the cab. Before the door slammed shut, she heard singing.
The one who stops and doesn’t stay will not believe her eyes,
But only trusts what she can touch beneath the boxèd skies.
The fears and doubts will chase her down where’er she may flee,
And not until she faces them head-on will she be free.
Birdie locked the cab door and sped away.
She was fully awake.
Flash fiction is so good for you. Do you find that your writing has improved since sticking to these weekly prompts?
Something's up !
Why is my master putting suitcases in the car ?
Is he going to put my travel water and food bowls in, too?
Grandma came to the house yesterday and spent the night. She has a pink suitcase that is in the car also. She doesn't visit often but it is always good to see her. She likes to scratch under my chin and I like that !
Everybody is getting in the car now. Oh joy!
I am going too !
I like to travel and am a good boy in the car. The weather is nice with clouds drifting in that have boxed the skies.
It is perfect weather to go to the beach .
Oh, Grandma is sleeping in the car. I guess we are not there yet. I think I will join her. Woof, woof ,wo..
Thank you , Stephanie!