Who Is He Hiding From?

(C) Barbara W. Beacham. July 27th, 2015. Mondays Finish the Story (MFtS) hosted by Barbara W. Beacham.
(C) Barbara W. Beacham. July 27th, 2015. Mondays Finish the Story (MFtS) hosted by Barbara W. Beacham.

He thought he found the perfect hiding spot.

So he kept still, muted his breathing and focused his eyes on the kitchen entryway.

Minutes passed by but it felt like hours, yet nothing walked in. His fur was beginning to itch. He had to groom himself!

He mentally cursed the universe for giving cats the insatiable innate urge to constantly self-groom. But he wanted so badly to give Jim a surprise and for once that priority came before the urge.

But it did not last long, so he moved ever so slowly, bowing his head down to the left side of his upper torso and gave it a lick.

Then suddenly, “Ooh! That tickles!” It was Jim! “Who are we hiding from, Terry?” Jim squeaked.

Word count: 117

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Who Is He Hiding From?

Queen of Thieves

(C) Barbara W. Beacham. Mondays FInish the Story Flash Fiction,  June 1, 2015. This photo brings you to the challenge page. Hosted by Barbara W. Beacham
(C) Barbara W. Beacham. Mondays FInish the Story Flash Fiction, June 1, 2015. This photo brings you to the challenge page. Hosted by Barbara W. Beacham

What a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive

She is the best of her trade, the queen of thieves,
Who steals not gold but the hearts of men she misleads.
First she earned their trust, then she made them believe,
But the way she toyed, trampled, and teased,
Its no wonder that no male would choose to forgive,
but their pardon is something she does not need.
She is content with her life of promiscuous mischief,

Then he came, seemingly impregnable, the ideal candidate of intrigue,
Finally a game that she played with gritted teeth.
As she weaved, she felt unprecedented emotions: he made her complete,
So the queen quit her games, embraced her feelings, and laid her heart out to gift.
But by cruel destiny or ill fate, out of her life, he did leave.
She was the best of her trade, the queen of thieves,
Who stole not gold the hearts of men she misleads.

Word count: 150

Queen of Thieves

Annabelle White the Sloppy Ghost

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham. Monday Finish the Story, May 4, 2015. This photo brings you to the challenge page. Hosted by Barbara W. Beacham.
© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham. Monday Finish the Story, May 4, 2015. This photo brings you to the challenge page. Hosted by Barbara W. Beacham.

After losing her head, she realized that the rest of her body was falling apart!

Then the doll collapsed into a pile of plastic limbs and a wisp drifted out.

The vapory wisp took shape and solidified into the form of a young girl, which then clutched at her own hair in dire frustration.

She punched a wall- and went straight through it.

“I hate being a ghost! Screw possessing things, I can’t even punch the wall properly to vent my anger!”

Feeling like she had enough, Annabelle screamed her phantom lungs out.

And she screamed, and screamed even more. She screamed all night long.

But as she did so, she did not turn transparent. And she did not see the toddler behind the door, but the toddler could not believe her eyes either.

Word count: 119

Annabelle White the Sloppy Ghost

A Fit of Giggles

(c) Barbara W. Beacham. Mondays Finish the Story April 27, 2015. Challenge page: https://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2015/04/27/mondays-finish-the-story-april-27th-2015/ hosted by Barbara W. Beacham
(c) Barbara W. Beacham. Mondays Finish the Story April 27, 2015. The picture takes you to the challenge page, hosted by Barbara W. Beacham.

“Are you laughing at me?

Her lie was undermined by her fit of giggles that she tried to hide with a hand covering her mouth.

I handed her the flowers which she gratefully with eyes that twinkled a smile. But she began giggling again.

“Why’re you laughing? What’s so funny?” Her giggles were contagious and I could not pull a straight face, which is probably why she dodged my questions.

I offered my hand to her, then we proceeded to my ride. We were awkwardly bumping into each other and she was still giggling hard. As embarrassed as I felt, I held no grudge against my date. Instead, I relished the moment to commit her giggles to my memory.

Then she muttered something, which caused my free hand to fly to correct my pants zipper.


Alternative ending:

She won’t be laughing anymore when I’m asking for my ransom.

I preferred the cheerful ending. Which would you choose?

PS: Yellow Orchids tell the recipient you’re head over heels for them. I initially wanted to title this post: Orchids Aren’t Actually Romantic. Luckily I googled before I did.

Word count: 130

A Fit of Giggles