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She had been given that name Glorious back when her Mama was hell bent on becoming a Christian.
She grew up being called Glori. That’s Glori with an I, not Glory with a Y.
And that made a difference, but only to Mama. Who had by then divorced herself completely from Christianity and taken up the path of the Buddha, to whom something called dukkha was even more important than glory was to Christians.
So she kept her mouth shut about the whole I and Y thing and just considered herself lucky she had been born during Mama’s Christian phase.
Here are 100 words about as near to nothing as you can get without writing nothing at all. I was however able to include the word, Glorious, as provided by Eugenia this week on her site Eugi’s Causerie. So I guess all is not for naught.
If the music didn’t get any better he was going to take that pill Kelsey kept offering him. After all, why should Kelsey be the only one having any fun?
He tossed that question around in his mind for a moment before his loins decided on the only logical answer.
“Because the more pills Kelsey has, the more pills Kelsey will take. And the more pills Kelsey takes…”
Jamie quickly distracted himself from the pursuant visual that accompanied his thought process.
Suffice it to say, Little Miss Kelsey wouldn’t be the only one getting a ride on the way home..
This snippet written in exactly 100 words was inspired by the opening line supplied by Dylan on this week on MLMM’s First Line Friday
Photo Courtesy of C E Ayr
We gathered at Auntie’s deathbed to share memories..
Gramma reminded Auntie of the day she sold their mother’s spaghetti pot to the “Paper! Rags!” man to buy ice cream.
Mama reminded Auntie of the day she tried to teach us all to make potica, and every one but hers came out like a lead sinker.
Finally, it was my turn.
“Remember at family reunions how all us kids would sneak down the basement to play with Uncle Louie’s whisky decanter? The little boy that pissed whisky?”
Auntie struggled to smile, then whispered, “My Louie, such a filthy sense of humor.”
This is my 100 word response to this weeks photo prompt provided by Rochelle on this weeks Friday Fictioneers
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
The eldest would do the haggling. It would be done in whispered tones, so those who followed in the queue would not know at what price a deal had been struck.
Once a price was agreed, the younger would discreetly withdraw the sum not required for today’s purchase, before hoisting to the counter a bucket so laden with coin, it had taken both of them to carry.
It would never do for the shopkeeper to be privy to how much they held in reserve. As were he, the cost of a loaf would surely be just that much higher tomorrow.
This is my 100 word response to this weeks Friday Fictioneers Photo Prompt.
Image Credit Hoi An- on Unsplash
Few had met Duong Tran in life. Most had gone out of their way to avoid such a meeting.
Some had slipped a crumpled bill into his hand at a crowded intersection, avoiding even eye contact as the bill transferred hands.
But when he was killed crossing an intersection that lacked a much needed crosswalk, they rallied behind him.
They rode the coattails of his death into a courtroom where they spoke passionately about the tragic loss of his life.
A life they would have collectively continued to ignore- had he not become a very useful tool in their hands.
This piece, written in exactly 100 words, is my response to Sadje’s What Do You See? photo prompt this week.