In Plain Sight

Welcome to the Twelfth and final round of the Annual In Plain Sight Competition.

This years finals are set in the Great Southwestern Desert, a particularly unforgiving location where the arid temperatures may reach upward of 125 degrees, and the only hydration available to the Seekers will be the small flask they carry in with them.

Yes, folks, this is set to be one of the most grueling competitions ever waged here at IPS.

Those of you that brought your own VR helmets may don them now and join in the search from the comfort of your own chair.

For the rest of us the wifi monitors above will be live through out the competition.

There we are, I believe the location is live for us now.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the moment we have all be waiting for.

With the Seekers safely secluded, we will, for the first time be able to see the object that this whole competition revolves around. The object that our producers are willing to bet big money- will be able to elude our Seekers.

The object that is in fact hidden- In Plain Sight..

Eyes on the monitors, and Good Luck..

Baby Porcupine

Word Count: 196

Desert Photo Prompt courtesy of Sunday Photo Fiction



When the waters came, toppling headstones, flooding vaults, and sending coffins sailing through the parish into the Gulf, it seemed sure they had washed Snickers away as well.

But when they receded, there he was, nibbling grass near the large white headstone just as he had done since Old Josh had been laid to rest beneath it.

Funny thing was, ever since he resurfaced, folks would swear they heard him talking when he appeared to be chewing his cud.

Not that anyone was very interested in what he had to say. He was just a crazy old goat after all.

Word Count: 100

Prompt courtesy of Friday Fictioneers


Photo by Kat Myrman copyrite 2018

With the appearance of the gild ornaments, the procession of children begins. Desperate families wagering timid children against the gilded path to prosperity, as peer pressure renders them powerless to decide which would be the most devastating loss.

Character Count: 251

Photo prompt courtesy of Kat’s Twittering Tales


gild- verb (used with object)

  1. to coat with gold, gold leaf, or a gold-colored substance.
  2. to give a bright, pleasing, or specious aspect to.
  3. Archaic . to make red, as with blood.


Sorry… I’m stuck on dialogue this week…

Photo Courtesy of Yarnspinnerr

“Your baklava is not as good as Medzmama’s.”

“Because Medzmama took her precious recipes to the grave.”

“So we would always remember her?”

“So that we would always remember she was a better cook than any of us.”

“What do you want to be remembered for, Mama?”

“Such talk! Don’t be silly!”

“I’m not being silly Mama, I really want to know.”

“I want to be remembered. Remembered, that’s all. That’s good enough for me.”

“Not for me. I want to be the one that decides who is remembered for what- so that no more precious recipes end up in the grave!”

“Ok then Miss Remembered for What- you tell me, what will I be remembered for?”

“You my darling mother will be remembered as the only one of her sisters that never grew larger than her wedding dress.”

“So you want that I should be remembered as a vain woman?”

“No! As a bad cook! Because your baklava is nowhere near as good as Medzmama’s!”


Word Count: 167

FFfAW #197