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DoodleScribbles

Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul

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Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Kicking Butts

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Kicking Butts
Realistic Fiction

“Hey, Chev!” Dorothy called out to the 1967 Chevrolet Impala. “Going out with that horse? It’s not my favorite pair but suit yourself.”

Ace snorted loudly as he eyed the white Cadillac beside them. “Is this the one, Chevy?”

Chevy has seen Dorothy the day Marcus, her owner, received that dreadful foreclosure notice. Marcus lost his home to the bank, concurrently, losing his whole life, too. She hated Dorothy and the bank since then.

“You’re looking rather sleek today.” Ace walked towards Dorothy, appraising her body. “A Cadillac Escalade?”

“2016. The latest model.” Dorothy grinned with pride.

“I see… So your owner came here to take the Marcus’ ranch. Four decades— the man has been working up a sweat living his own life.”

Dorothy noticed anger in Ace’s voice and refuted, “He’s just doing his job. He didn’t—

A loud smashing sound left Dorothy startled. The last thing she remembered was the sight of her shattered headlights and damaged wing before Ace gave one last angry jolt, “Tell that professional crook I’ll kick his capitalist butt.”

Word Count: 175

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. This week’s photo prompt is provided by Phylor. Thanks PJ for hosting another fun prompt.

P.S. I missed this!! ❤ :)

This one is inspired by a documentary I was watching last night. Michael Moore’s Capitalism: A love story.

Enjoy more stories here:

 

Broken Things

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Broken Things
Realistic Fiction

“You are the weirdest friend I’ve ever known!” Selena exclaimed, staring at the dilapidated statue in Taylor’s yard.

They’ve been bestfriends since childhood— ever since the world begun. Selena’s been practically part of Taylor’s life as much as Taylor’s been part of hers. They’re two opposite poles, so much like two sides of a brain. Taylor is odd and quirky and artsy and lost in the clouds while Selena is everything Taylor’s not.

“Lena!” Taylor’s eyes beamed. “I bought this for three-dollars on a garage sale. You like?”

“I like?” she yelled, giving an unbelieving stare. “Why would someone have the nerve to sell this and why would you buy such scrap?”

“It’s my latest hobby, remember? I collect broken things.”

“Ever since Jacob broke your heart,” she argued. “You can’t mend it with those, Tay.”

Taylor’s eyes flickered with a hint of tears as she proudly spoke, “Watch me.”

Word Count: 150

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. This week’s photo prompt is provided by Phylor. Thanks PJ for hosting another fun prompt.:):):)

Enjoy more stories here:

 

 

Sunny Day

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Sunny Day
General Fiction

Derrick was sitting on an empty park bench, staring at the towering buildings across the narrow waters. It was a cloudy day but the sun still tried to break through the grays.

“What I’m saying is there are no guarantees.”

Yes, that’s what his oncologist said earlier that day. Derrick is a twenty-five year old aspiring young artist who has always looked forward to sunrise and waited for sunsets. The sun, to him, was his muse. He could paint a heron gliding over the horizon smeared with colorful hues. He could sketch magic in sunlight, make the images come alive— until leukemia took its toll. He had already lost his hair. Today, he woke up losing his hands. He couldn’t control them, shaking and trembling as if saying they’re too scared.

With tears in his eyes, he said a silent prayer. Above the towering buildings across the narrow waters, the sun still tried to break through the grays, streaks of rays piercing through the clouds.

Now that’s a guarantee of a sunny day. He smiled.

Word Count: 175

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


YAY! Great to be back in the tale-weaving world. ❤

Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. This week’s photo prompt is provided by Barbara Taylor. Thanks PJ for another fun prompt.:):):)

Enjoy more stories here:

 

Game Plan: Salad

First day and Levi’s already out for a fieldwork. He trailed behind his boss, Hannah, a gorgeous mid-twenties woman exuding independence and flair. At a young age, she has established a name in the world of photography being one of the elite events photographers in the country. Her photographs transcends from the lenses of a camera to the windows of one’s heart. She breathes of art and passion.

“Ok, here’s our game plan: let them fall in love with gorgeous details and breathe romance. Our clients are Bohemian, free-spirited lovers. Truth, beauty, and freedom— we must capture all these moods. Talk, Levi.” Hannah turned.

“Salad!” he absent-mindedly answered.

“Salad???”

“I meant a salad of colors and patterns. Of daydreams, music, and love.” Levi smiled, easing through his stammering words.

Hannah gave a stern look but her eyes were smiling, “Anything else?”

“Teepee, curtains, vintage and classic stuff.” He continued, pointing anxiously across the yard. “How about a hippie car like that one?”

“You know what? I like you and your salad.” She nodded and smiled.

Word Count: 175

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. This week’s photo prompt is provided by S. Thanks PJ and S for another fun prompt.:):):)

I’ve been lurking around the world wide web in search for pre-nuptial themes. Yes, you’ve read it right. Prenup. I’m not getting married (yet) nor I have someone special to walk the aisle with (another yet). It’s just that… on some days, I want to imagine something beautiful like a wedding or prenup. Crazy? I hope not. So far, these two themes were my favorites for today: Foliage-themed and Boho-themed. XD

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Colossal Shame

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Colossal Shame
A Mythic fiction

“I refuse this humiliation, Salacia! It’s a colossal shame.” Neptune screamed, pointing at the statue perched atop the jagged rock near the beach.

Down in the land of mortals stood a towering statue that mirrored the god of the sea. It’s an enormous work of art that captured the attention of the world for its immense dominance.

Il Gigante, they call it. Il obbrobrio, I’d say! For years I didn’t squabble when they made me look like a slave carrying that chunk of concrete over my shoulder while they dance merrily above it. But this?!.”

Salacia couldn’t help but smile at her husband’s distress. He’s been complaining endlessly since they bombed his statue and left it an armless ruin. He wanted to summon the biggest wave to wash out the artwork that he called shame. “My husband,” she sighed, “You are as great as that statue withstanding the strongest storms for centuries. And look, even without its arms, it stood high and proud.”

“But I love my arms…” He trailed.

“So do I!” She laughed.

Word Count: 175 

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


Glad to be back in the tale weaving world! YAY! ❤❤❤ Thanks PJ for another fun prompt. 🙂 🙂 🙂

Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. This week’s photo prompt is provided by Mom the Obscure.

From what I’ve read,  this is a photo of Il Gigante (The Giant) located at the beach of Monterosso del Mare. The 14 meter high image of Neptune, the Roman god of the sea, was originally built from concrete in 1910 to decorate the seaward edge of the elegant Villa Pastine. Allied bombs and rough seas have turned the once mighty century giant into an armless ruin. 

Neptune must be furious, you think? Hehe.

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Another Chance

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“They’re furious, Apollo. Gaea and Poseidon are gnashing their teeth, fuming with wrath for mankind’s disregard and disrespect. My wind has carried troubling news from the south that Gaea has cooled down her magma and Poseidon has lessened the pressure of rivers and dams. If this persist—

“Insolent fools, these humans are!” Apollo interfered Boreas’ discourse angrily. “After years of dumping wastes in the oceans and clearing the Earth’s forests on a massive scale, this is expected. I, myself, am blamed for warming the globe when, if fact, it is them who burned those fossil fuels. Why should we care? Even your winds, my kind-hearted friend, weren’t left untainted.”

Boreas looked mournfully at Apollo, his eyes filled with tears. “But they are ours to tend and foster.”

“With that… humans better know their place.” Apollo said with a disdainful smirk and a sigh. “For now, blow your winds Boreas. Let them hear your howl of sympathy and feel your gust of kindness. I will try and persuade the two to give mankind yet another chance.”

Word Count: 175


Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. This week’s photo prompt is provided by TJ Paris. Thanks PJ for another fun prompt. ❤❤❤

This one is inspired by the recent red alert on PH’s power supply and some other distressing news about climate change, deforestation, and pollution. When will this end? I do not know.

The whole Philippine power grid was placed under red alert on Friday, as the sweltering heat drove electricity demand to a new record high amid thinning supply. –ANC, The World Tonight

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Logic & Sense

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“Honey, I believe it’s illogical that you keep on wearing these pointy heels and then endlessly complain about them. It doesn’t make sense.” Howard grumbled as he bent down to strap his wife’s high heels.

He loves her dearly but sometimes his Lisa could be too… clamorous. She looked stunning tonight. Her curly hair tossed gracefully just above her shoulder, her eyebrows arched and delicate, her legs flared gradually along her metallic dress. But what he hated were her heels. His ears were deaf from her complains.

“Sense?” Lisa barked, looking down at Howard. “Would barefoot be much better? It’s a party we’re going to. It’s a jungle out there. We, ladies, need to be equipped. And this— my edgy husband— is how we flaunt our splendor.”

“Honey,” he muttered, folding his arms across his chest, “From a logical perspective, you are teeming with splendor with or without these heels.”

Lisa smiled slyly and gave a kiss, “And from a logical perspective, we’re going to be late if you don’t get those straps done, Mister.”

Word Count: 175


Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. This week’s photo prompt is provided by BarbCT/Knotholes and Textures. Thanks PJ for another fun prompt. ❤❤❤

Enjoy more stories here:

 

The Neighborhood

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© pixabay

The sun rose beautifully in the southern skies. Surprisingly, this town turned out to be a gorgeous and quite place. The sound of rustling leaves played a lovely symphony to her ears and the flickering sunlight brought warmth to her skin. With eyes closed, she breathed the cool, crisp air.

“Are you new here, child?” a voice called as she walked down the empty street.

Gigi turned to see a silver-haired grandma with an unmistakable beauty despite her age. She motioned to her, smiling, but stopped at the sight of her house.

Astounding doesn’t quite describe it.

No. Grandma’s abode was a little place of heaven on earth. Its brick wall was festooned with the splendor of autumn leaves in burgundy red and vivid tangerines. Its door painted with fresh cyan was a charming contrast to the vibrant façade, too.

“Goodness! Your house is beyond splendid, ma’am!” She exclaimed in awe.

Grandma gave a wide smile, her eyes glistened in delight. “Thank you! Credits go to my husband, dear. Welcome to the neighborhood. I’m Lora.”

Word Count: 175


Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. Thank you PJ for another fun prompt. ❤❤❤

Enjoy more stories here:

Art of Expression

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I was once your six-year-old, messy-hair, oversized-shirt, make-believe artist back in Mrs. Grelina’s class.

“Live your dreams.” Our teacher used to say and we’d come to her class dressed as the person we would soon become. One classmate brought with her a toy stethoscope and the other wore polished suit like a business tycoon. Meanwhile, I was the quite boy acting strange and weird because that’s what I thought artists should be like—peculiar.

I remember one day, Mrs. Grelina asked me why I dreamed to be an artist. With a pencil tucked behind my ears, I told her that I wanted to impress everyone. She warmly smiled and said, “That’s a good start. But soon you will realize that art craves to express rather than impress.”

Thirty years later, I stood beside my pride during the Splash of Extraordinary Art competition. A rival artist came and gave a mocking remark. “You’ll never impress the judges with those cows, pal.”

“Maybe. But I bet they’ll never forget these for a long time.” I gladly replied.

Word Count: 175


Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. Thank you S for the photo and PJ for another fun prompt. ❤❤❤

I found myself writing another story about Mrs. Grelina and her class. I hope you don’t mind. 🙂 🙂 🙂

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