Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: No Piano Mom.


Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP.

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http://www.pixebay.com

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Mom, I don’t want to play piano, 

But you force me every week, no! 

You say “it can’t be that hard,”

My piano playing, will never go far.

You think I’ll get better when you make me play, 

I practice, fumbling the wrong keys — you say:

“My boy he’s going to be a musician,

My Alex is going to go far, be a physician;

Playing the piano helps with math and science skills, 

Playing these notes, he learns to read music: I’ve chills, 

One day he’ll be a musician and a doctor, 

How could a mother want anything more.” 

So I pound out the notes, keeping my hand like a ball,

Ignoring your wince when my fingers stumble and fall.

I want to do something fun, 

I want to play soccer and run.

I want to be an astronaut, or maybe a fireman, 

A hero who saves people, maybe Spider-Man?

I’m not sure yet what I want to be, 

I don’t like math or piano you see. 

But my printing is good; I handwrite well,

My typing is fast; in my stories, witches cast spells.

I like to read; I’m quicker than other children.

Are you listening to me? Or yelling certain —

I should be practicing piano, something you decided for me.

Never asking how I felt as years passed by and I still played off key.

I couldn’t memorize the music; it was tedious, 

I preferred writing stories, characters mischievous. 

How your face dropped, 

Now you never talk to me; you stopped.

Because I didn’t become a musician or a doctor,

I used my talents and your boy Alex plays professional soccer.

Writing stories in the paper about sports and other topics, I glean.

I didn’t meet your standards; I lived my own dreams.

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© Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

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Maydays: Flash Fiction – Lost Keys #Maydays


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Thanks to C.L. Kaley of new2writing for today’s #Mayday prompt: a little lost.


Key
http://www.pamelamoskie.com

 

“Where are my keys?” Jeremy muttered. “I can’t find my keys. They were hanging on the key rack and now they’re not there?”

His friend Jake shrugged. “It happens man. I lose my keys all the time.”

Jeremy scowled at Jake, “Why aren’t you helping me search? They’re on a blue key chain with a skull. There’s ten keys on there and many of them from work. We won’t be going to that concert soon if I can’t find my keys because my car key is on that ring.”

Jake appeared bored but dutifully began searching for Jeremy’s keys. After ten minutes he gave up and sitting on Jeremy’s couch, flicked on the TV, turning it to a hockey game in progress.

“What’s the big deal with your keys?” Jake said to Jeremy. Jeremy looked at Jake irately.

“It’s expensive to replace them all and I haven’t got a lot of extra cash laying around right now.”

“No one does, bad times mean no jobs in the oil field.”

“I don’t work in oil Jake. That’s you. I work in an office downtown and I have keys to the whole office. Even the places where most people aren’t allowed to go. I need my keys.” Jeremy shouted.

“We’re going to miss the concert,” Jake said. “We should take a cab and look for your keys later. ” Jeremy rolled his eyes at Jake’s obtuseness.

“I have to lock my condo up Jake. I can’t leave it open.”

Ignoring Jeremy, Jake took out his phone to call a cab despite what Jeremy had said. He started to dial the cab number when he felt something hard and uncomfortable under his left leg. He dug between the couch cushions and found Jeremy’s keys.

“Hey look what I found Jeremy.” Jake said triumphantly.

Jeremy was stunned.”You mean, you were sitting on my keys the whole time you were on the couch?”

Jeremy attacked Jake, playfully punching him in the nose.

“You idiot you had my keys under your leg,” Jeremy said laughing and shaking his head at Jake.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

NaPoWriMo: Poem – Minor FT Creature – Minute – “Twittering”


  

And now, for our prompt (optional as always!) Just as Rosa Jamila’s poems often sound like they come out of a myth or fairy tale (and not always one with a happy ending), today I challenge you to write a poem in the voice of minor character from a fairy tale or myth. Instead of writing from the point of view of Cinderella, write from the point of view of the mouse who got turned into a coachman. Instead of writing from the point of view of Orpheus or Eurydice, write from the point of view of one of the shades in Hades who watched Eurydice leave and then come back. Happy writing!

For more information please see NaPoWriMo

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The bird who sings melodically posed,

Twitter exposed,

Singing with notes,

Snow White songs wrote.

—-

Voice of angel, bird sings lyrics,

Fly spherical, 

No matter when,

Melodies send.

—- 

Eating crisp red apple, evil hag gives,

Her eyes wide strive,

Eat not apple,

Eve’s own pupil. 

—–

Dimly lit girl, breath of life left her,

Creatures of fur,

Point to a Prince

This Prince, I wince.

—–

A bird, Snow calls, tweets melodies.

Kiss. Two lovelies.

All well, I’ve heard.

Stop calling birds.

—–

A birds, not just harmony.

Mates eventually,

Songs for blue eggs,

Snow White she begs —

—-

Let the birds be free,

You’ve no need of our twittering.

Look online now,

Our page is overpopulated.

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.