Kreative Kue 255

Kreative Kue 254 asked for submissions based on this photograph:

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John W Howell is the author of the John Cannon trilogy of My GRL, His Revenge, Our Justice and Circumstances of Childhood, co-author of The Contract, and blogs at Fiction Favorites.

Lost by John W. Howell © 2020

“What do you mean you can’t find it? The coordinates are clear.”
“The coordinates are real clear, but we still can’t find it.”
“That’s impossible. Give me an optical scan of the area.”
“Okay. Coming at you.”
“I don’t see anything.”
“That is exactly what I told you.”
“Maybe the solar flares are distorting the picture.”
“Okay. What do you see then?”
“Some vegetation is all.”
“That is exactly what we are seeing.”
“Why don’t you walk a couple of klicks and send us another shot.”
“What? Through the coordinates, you mean?”
“That object is as big as a mountain. It can’t have disappeared.”
“So one would think. Maybe our measuring devices have been damaged. You think the locator on the thing could have gotten damaged in flight.”
“Well, the takeoff was certainly a jolt. You could be right.”
“Not to mention the landing. This planet’s gravity is pretty strong.”
“Okay let,’s assume the locator is faulty. Can you get to higher ground and, maybe you can spot it.”
“Yeah, there is a cliff up ahead. We have to cross what looks like a desert.”
“Go ahead and cross.”
“Okay, the rover made it across the sandy place. It looks like this desert has been dug out of the cliff.”
“Can you climb to the top of the cliff?”
“I have shot a grappling hook and repelling rope up and over. All I have to do is climb up there.”
“You have permission to do that.”
“Okay, I’m here. My goodness.”
“What?”
“This is a plateau and, it is made of grass.”
“Can you see the sphere?”
“No, but when I rise with my jet pack, I can see a huge hole not too far away. There is some kind of pole rising up from the hole.”
“Send me the picture.”
“Here you are.”
“Look at that. Amazing. Aim the camera up to the top of that pole.”
“I don’t have an LD lens, so I don’t know if you can see the top.”
“Yes, I can make it out. There is some kind of symbol on a flag on top. Jet to the hole and point the camera into it. Be careful and don’t fall in.”
“Here it is. “Look at that. The sphere is at the bottom of the hole.”
“You sure. It doesn’t look like ours. The size looks right, but that one is white. Can you see the letters on it.”
“Yes, I can.”
“Do you have any idea what it means?”
“S-P-A-U-L-D-I-N-G? I have no idea.”
“Well, it can’t be good to see other spheres landing around there. We’ll just chalk ours up to lost and take the penalty. Come on back. It’s time for lunch anyway.”
“Roger that sir.”


This made me smile – from Na’ama Yehuda, who blogs at https://naamayehuda.com :

The Bubble by Na’ama Yehuda

“It is the only way!” he insisted.

She shook her head. She understood his urgency but he’s been going on about a string of crises for the last two hours, and her bladder was threatening to win the Battle Of Emergency.

“Are you even listening?” his voice rose, reedy with strain.

She took a breath, curbing the depth of it as to not add to the internal pressure. There was no rest-stop in sight. She began wondering if the wall of a nearby metal shipping container would have to do. With any luck, no one would be peeking out their window or strolling by or who knows.

“I really have to go,” she tried.

He exploded. “Can you stop thinking about yourself for a moment and actually take this in?!”

Her bladder cramped. Did he seriously just say “take in”?!!

He was known for working himself into a tizzy, but his anxiety and whatever issues the current times awoke in him, did not give him license to be disrespectful. “Start the car,” she bristled. “We’re leaving.”

He glared at her as if she grew antennas, which she thought was hilarious given the circumstances and his ideas. Laughter began to bubble in her belly, but she didn’t think her pelvic musculature could manage the added demand.

“We can talk more about building your floating sphere,” she added, regretting her choice of words almost as soon as it left her lips, yet finding herself unable to conjure any other imagery. “But if you don’t get me to a bathroom in the next three minutes, you’ll have to wade through bigger waters than what this world saw during Noah’s flood.”


My effort was

Fore!

This golf ball is so flipping large
To bring it here needed a barge
What made it much worse
I’d forgotten my purse
So how could I pay the surcharge?

I shouted across to my caddie
“Just pay the wee man will you, laddie?”
He looked a bit dumb
Then said to his Mum
“Can I have an alternative Daddy?”

His Mum said, “Don’t be such a chump,
You wanted to come to this dump,
Defy your old Dad
And he’ll only get mad,
You know what he’s like with the hump.”

His reticence firmly unmasked
He paid what the bargemaster asked
I said, “That’s the way,
Just do as I say,
Exactly as you have been tasked.”

And so I play golf on the shore
Round in sixty, and not a shot more.
It beats water-skiing
In the Caribbean
And my final word shall be – FORE!


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On to this week’s challenge: Using this photo as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; even just a caption for the photograph. Either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at keithchanning@gmail.com before 6pm next Sunday (if you aren’t sure what the time is where I live, this link will tell you). If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to this page would be appreciated, but please do also mention it in a comment here.

Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries next Monday.

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