The Painter

Photo Courtesy of Graham Lawrence

I was drawn to the lady painting in the garden.

She appeared as if she was in rapture as she added her brush strokes to the canvas with a theatrical flair. What was it that had captured her attention so voraciously? What part of the garden was she recreating with her brush? I stole a glance over her shoulder when she stepped back to assess her work. I was surprised to see not one flower, tree, nor leaf on that canvas, but a brown face with a long nose and two floppy ears. There were two white circles for eyes; the look of pure innocence represented by large, brown pupils.  A thick pink tongue draped out of its mouth, beads of salivation accumulated and dripped off of its tip.

The artist had recreated the moment beautifully – not of the garden, but of a dog, begging and drooling for a treat.

Writing101: Day 12: Play with word count (150-cha-ching!)



*true story*

A Conversation

Written in response to the Flash Fiction photo prompt (below). Photo provided by Louise from “The Storyteller’s Abode.”

“Psssssssst. Hey, you.”

“Shush. I am trying to listen.”

“To him? He’s been going on for hours. I have a problem here and I need your help.”

“Yeah? What can I do to help you?”

“I have this itch that really needs to be scratched. I was hoping if you lean to your right, and I lean to my left, we could meet in the middle and rub against each other. Think we can do that?”


“Okay, on the count of three. One, twooooo, three!”



Laughter. “I guess we are a little out of shape.”

“I guess so.”

“Damn it! It looks like he is leaving Did you catch what he said?”

“Not really, I was too distracted with my itch to pay attention. Something about the sun and some sort of purpose.”

“What?  You mean I missed it? The whole point of why we are here? Did he say he was coming back?”

“I don’t know.
I guess we can only wait to see.”