Donning A Mask

The first time I’d worn a mask other than Halloween, was during the Covid-19 crisis. I needed groceries and the supermarkets had strict rules about entering without protection.

When I exited my car, I donned my mask, latex gloves, wiped down the wagon and entered the store. The supermarket was eerily empty, and the shelves were bare of toilet paper and rice.

I approached the cashier who was behind a protective shield and slid my credit card through the slot. Once approved, I packed my bags and left.

When I got behind the wheel, I removed my mask.

Fresh air.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Corn

Toxic chemicals from a nearby factory contaminated Mr. Williams farm. Every year sixty-foot tall corn would grow. The farmhouse and barn are not affected and deemed safe.

A cornstalk opens sideways and reveals a mouth and eyes. Its husk legs can move up and down quickly but have a hard time moving forward. It extends its husk to reach for a wagon, but spots a unicycle and grabs that. The giant cornstalk rides towards the house.

Mr. Williams’s wife Ruth hears something and looks out the window, then screams.

“What is it?” her husband asks.

“It’s a unicorn,” says Ruth.

From Guest Contributor Denny E. Marshall

TBT: The Brubaker Spectacular

The Brubaker Spectacular trundled down Main Street, festooned with ribbons and fur, exploding confetti at every corner.

The children trailed after the wagons, quivering in epileptic fits of joy. The Brubaker Spectacular had arrived.

Elephants trumpeted at the sky. Acrobats danced from the rooftops. Giants wrestled lions, while swinging from trapezes suspended over fiery pits.

The Brubaker Spectacular promised two weeks of bewitching sensation, exceeding even the most remarkable dreams of splendor.

Shops closed their doors. The school master tossed aside his exams. Reverends and ministers forgave a fortnight worth of transgressions.

Nobody ever said no to the Brubaker Spectacular.

This story first appeared way back on Feb 15, 2010. It was then published in Picasso Painted Dinosaurs, a collection of 100 100-word stories, which is currently available as a digital download on Amazon.

The Wagon

Caroline stared up at the clouds on the horizon. Or they might have been mountains. Or cacti. She couldn't say anymore. In the deserts of Utah, everything looked the same. Just like everything had looked the same in the plains of Wyoming, and everything had looked the same in the mountains of Colorado. Traveling by wagon had to be the slowest way to get anywhere.

Caroline wasn't actually doing any of the work, and whether that increased her tedium or just allowed her idle nature to dream up mischief, she found their pace was becoming unbearable.

"Pull it faster, Daddy!"

The Daily Theme from Figment April 2, 2012

You are in transit, heading somewhere you're either thrilled or dreading to go. Don't explicitly say how you feel about it, but through your description of the destination and the journey, make it clear.