June 23, 2015–Prompt- A Small group of people who meet in secret at regular Intervals

There is a small group of people that meet in secret

Knock knock

“Who’s there?”


“Wilbur who?”

“Wilburn your ass if you don’t let me in.”

The hinges creaked as the door opened onto a large medieval hall. Helmets and shields decorated the walls. Candles were the only lights.

“Welcome your Majesty, your throne is ready.”

He walked past a dozen people and took his place at the focal point of the room.

“What is on the agenda this time?” He asked the Prime Minister.

“We need to decide if we should fund the collapse of the World Bank.”

“What good will it do us?”

“We will be the richest people in the world.”

“But if everyone is poor, what fun is it to be rich?” asked the king.

“The fun will come in when we see the population scramble to survive and eat each other.”

“Great, let’s do it, that sounds good.”

“Only one problem,” chimed in another voice.


“Who will serve us and cook for us?” asked the Prime Minister.

“We’ll just keep some staff fed and healthy. We’ll only take care of the people that we need. I, the king degree that this is what we will do.”

“And so it will be,” shouted the assembly in unison.


By Ellynore Seybold-Smith


George couldn’t believe it. Where had the five years gone. It was time for the gathering of the Merciless Meanderers again. He wonder if the five others in the group would have meandered the way their bylaws said they should.

He had tried hard, but every time he set out on a trip something seemed to interfere. Last month when he took his RV on the road he was only 20 miles from home when the engine overheated and he spent all the free time he had with a mechanic.

The bylaws emphasized that can’t call it meandering unless you covered at least 50 miles and in a five year period you were supposed to travel at least 5500 miles. He thought he wasn’t going to make that goal this year and would have to leave…no not leave he would be banished from the group.

They didn’t call themselves Merciless Meanderers because it sounded good.

How had he fallen so low. @0 years ago he had received the Golden Meanderer Trophy. He had traveled 100,000 miles in the five year period. Now he would be ostracized

By Chris Howard

June 16, 2015–Prompt–Bomb Shelter

Write on the Edge Prompt 6-16-2015

(this weeks prompt was a pick six it went thus: Your character enters a bomb shelter, he sees a fire extinguisher on the wall someone else enters and there is the smell of fresh air.


The day started out well – the usual for a summer day in Yuma. Hot! Very Hot!

Most Yuman’s have discovered it is best to do outside work early in the summer, the earlier the better. Gramps was born and raised in the desert, growing up well before AC was the norm. He appreciated the cool morning air provided by Mother Nature.

At 72, Gramps had a long list of projects to finish. His forgetfulness and gnarled hands keep him from scratching many from his list.

Today he was determined to clean out the old family shelter. Built during the cold war era; the shelter was a subterranean structure in the corner near the herb garden.

Opening the door, Gramps reached up and flicked on the power switch to active the air pumps and lights. Bent over with broom and dustpan in hand, he slowly made his way down the steps and into the bowels of the 8’ by 8’ shelter.

He was not prepared for the sight before him. At the foot of the stairs was a pile of loose soil. It was damp and rich in humus. It gave off a musky odor. Gramps was completely dumbfounded.

He searchingly looked around the walls. He looked up and down, side to side. There. There was something down by the storage units on the West wall. A lone fire extinguisher was dangling from a loose bracket. The screw holes were enlarged and crusted with dirt. There, going down from the bracket a termite mud tube.

He did not like what he saw. There were termites here, and another thing to add to his list.

By JoAnne Mowczko

June 9, 2015–Prompt–Weight Restricted Bridge

Weight Restricted Bridge

Harold brought the pickup truck to a halt before entering the bridge.

“What are you stopping for?” Thelma demanded.

“The sign up there says ‘weight restricted bridge, five tons maximum.” He reached for his calculator. “Hmmmm, you may have to get out and walk across.”

The headlines in the morning paper read:



By Kevin Draper

May 26, 2015 Prompt–Teacher of the Tested

Teacher of the tested

There are many tests around.  Some you sit down and take in a classroom setting.  But the most interesting and most valuable are the tests we must pass in life.

I see the first and most important one is learning to breathe.  Woe to those who fail that one.

Another test is learning to walk.  I partially failed it by falling down the stairs on my first solo outing.  It was several months before I was  brave enough to try again.  And then it was to get to my Daddy.  I was a little leery of Mom as she let me fall, or so I thought.

From then on I needed expert teaching.  My first grade teacher was not a good teacher of the tested as she played a trick on me that I have never forgotten.  On the first day of school she asked if anyone could read, and I could, so up went my hand, she called me up front and handed me a book to read.  She handed it to me so that it was upside down from my viewpoint.  New student, new school, plus no experience made me think I had to read it like it was presented.  Of course I failed.  The class laughed at me.  Teacher just shook her head sadly.  I never raised my hand again until I went to AWC in my late sixties.

That evening my parents were quite puzzled to see me trying to read a book upside down.  Mom just scoffed at my silliness.  Daddy however wanted more details, and was very upset at what had happened to me.  He made my mother call the teacher and ask why the trick.  I never did get along with that teacher and my mother never interfered in my schooling again.  In grade 11 I lost a full four year scholarship to the University of Chicago, because my mother would not talk to my English teacher and the principal.


Valerie Cook