#MotivationMonday, #TuesdayTales and #55WordChallenge – Flash Fiction posts

Hello my lovelies.

It’s hump day, and in honor of being a world-class procrastinator today, I’m posting a couple of my flash fiction pieces.

Here is my Motivation Monday piece:

Prompt: “They Call Her Princess” – must be first line of the story.

Delusions of Grandeur

They call her princess to her face, knowing she won’t accept anything less from her royal subjects. She allows them to cater to her every whim, bringing her food, drink and even escort her to the showers, where she is bathed beneath a cascade of hot spring warmed water.

She gets lonely in her ivory tower, with only her attendants to converse with, but it is better than no one at all. She dreams of gilded castles and jewels of every hue. Yet what she doesn’t know is that every week her mother comes to her room and asks those watching over her how she’s doing.

“Her delusions are worse this week. We’ll need to adjust her medication again,” the doctor whispers behind the iron door confining the princess to her padded cell.

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Here is my Tuesday Tales piece

Prompt:  Distinguished and this photo – 100 words or lessgoogle search

His bright gold glasses weren’t the only thing that distinguished ‘Pa Joe from others at the Oakwood Nursing Home. His youthful spirit and still agile reflexes were tools he used to cheer up the other patients who were frailer than he was. His love of bluegrass and blonde busty nurses were also widely known throughout the center. The day he broke his hip twirling the young candy striper was the beginning of the end for Joe. His inner-light dimmed after that and even his favorite nurse’s flirtations couldn’t bring back his joy. Movement was his life, without it, he withered.

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Here’s today’s post for the 55 Word Challenge

Prompt: 

55 words or less

A Widow No More

The biting wind should have chilled her, yet her singular focus kept her from feeling much other than relief. The year was finally over. Her first mission was to throw out all the black from her wardrobe. This time tomorrow she would be wearing deep crimson and not pretending to mourn the man she murdered.

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