Non-fiction Friday--If I Had a Mary Poppins Bag

   Hoarder Extraordinaire 
KRISANN GENTRY 

Mary, Mary, quite prepare-y, what all does your bag hold? 

Lamps and plants and hatstands and at least two mirrors, we know. 

Shoes and a coat, and measuring tape, with some unusual markings, though.

My own bag keeps some items similar in purpose and practicality, and some nothing at all like our wide-traveling Mary's.

When I find a pair of perfect jeans or favorite shoes, it stores a lifetime's supply of them, so when one pair runs out, there's no need to panic. If I don't find something I like well enough to replace them, I'll just use the next backup. 

It carries cures for the hangries (so hungry you're angry = hangry). A wide variety of snacks to fit any mood, with recommendations, for those times when you're so starving you just can't think well enough to know what you want. "Madam, you seem cranky. May I offer you a taco?"

Whenever I need art supplies, or don't quite have the right shade of colored pencil or decorative masking tape, I can find it in my bag. Furniture, too, for regular abode rearrangings, as the fancy strikes. 

Books. So. Many. Books.

Every single drawing my daughters have ever made can be found sorted, dated, and filed neatly in there. I never have to feel the wrenching debate of which to keep and which to toss. I know they're always there, to enjoy those precious details of their developing talents and love for creation, but not in a stack as high as the Chrysler Building threatening to overtake my living space. The first and subsequent 400 sketches of mermaids or fairies (pronounced 'veries,' at the moment) or princess frogs, all with curly-que eyelashes and tutu skirts, are all in there. Not a single one has had to be tossed, not ever.

Their first outfits and hats and baby blankets and lost teeth, and every time they picked weeds to bring me a bouquet. All there, forever.

Brilliantly, this bag also holds all the subtle, nuanced, precious memories associated with each item it stores. It's got the post-beach trip grains of sand I cleaned out of the carseat from the day my baby first called me Mama, and all the overwhelming love she and I shared in that moment. It keeps the blue maternity tanktop I reached for and clutched tightly to, the moment I realized, "I can't get dressed for the hospital... this baby is coming here and now." It keeps these things so I can feel my history.

The quirky, clever lines and ideas I've thought or dreamt up, and mourned at discovering they were forgotten before I'd had a chance to record them--that sadness doesn't happen anymore. I whisper into my bag constantly, while it safely tucks my musings away. 

Everything I want to have convenient, and all that I treasure and hope never to lose; it's my bag's job to hold safe and ready. It's really quite a clever thing. 

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Read more essays from this prompt:
Josiah's submission
Linda's submission
Moody's submission

Want to make one of your own? Next week's prompt is FLASH FICTION.

Write a short story from the starting point, "A Room with a View." 

Flash fiction Friday--Video Games

 This one's in honor of Mother's Day, and all the ridiculously awesome moms in my life.

    Amateurs  
KRISANN GENTRY

Finally. 8:30pm.

"Tommy! Shut it off; it's time for bed!"
"Mom! Noooo, please can I just get to the next save point?!"
"And how much longer do you suppose that will take?"
"Like two minutes!"
"So if you're not done in two minutes, you will be happy if I come over and unplug the TV?"
"Noooo!!"
"So are you sure it's going to take two minutes?"
"But Mom you can't! I just got it from Jamie like ten minutes ago!"

She took a deep breath and began again.

"Buddy, did you save at the last save point?"
"Yeah of course!"
"Then it won't be too hard for you to redo the next section."

She would not budge tonight.

He huffed a bit as he put down the controller and clicked off the TV, but she hugged him anyway.

"Come back when your teeth are brushed so I can kiss you," she teased in her usual way. Like always, he tried to kiss her then, while she acted disgusted at his breath.

9:12pm. A bit later than she hoped, but they were in bed. She smiled as she shut their door and said goodnight for the fourth and final time.

The screen blipped back to life and glowed brightly on her face as she strapped on her headset.

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Read more stories from this prompt!
Josiah's submission
Moody's submission
Linda's submission

Want to make one of your own? Next week's prompt is NON-FICTION.

Write a short essay from the starting point, "If I had a Mary Poppins Bag." 

Non-fiction Friday--Death

   And Taxis  
KRISANN GENTRY 

The smallish silvery-purple letters aren't very distinct against sage tone of the shampoo and conditioner bottles resting side by side in the alcove of my shower. They have very similar labels, this pair, and are nearly indistinguishable, the one from the other, unless you pull them close. Then you'll find that one the one marked shampoo has a slightly more purple font on that word alone.

I went to the store to replenish my supply and accidentally bought two conditioners, once. That's how alike these look. That even from the unimpeded view of the store, where I had not the excuse of the shower's steam, water and lather in my eyes, and general sense of rush I experience, I still mistook them. Since then, I've learned never to trust them when shopping, and also developed a strategy.

After I bring my products home, having ensured that what I bought was correct, I open the tops and peel off the safety seals (because trying to pry that sucker away while you're already slippery and soapy is its own special kind of hell) and when I replace the flip-top lids (not screw-ons), I reverse the lid of the conditioner bottle, so that it opens in the opposite direction of its counterpart. This way, when I'm feeling for my shampoo bottle, my eyes barely opened and peeking through the lathery layers of face wash, I'll be able to discern by feeling the tops which bottle I need. Tricky little demons that they are have been outsmarted by my cunning and no longer defeat me, forcing me to send that $.70 handful down the literal drain.  

I do this with old age in mind.

My children and grandchildren and great grandchildren and in general, any caretakers responsible for my well-being, will never have to help me discern the difference between my shampoo and conditioner. My thoughtfulness in these matters will lend to my continued independence. I train myself to handle these little difficulties with grace.

I am certain they (being the grandchildren and the caretakers) will discuss this amongst themselves. "Batty old lady," they'll muse, "needs a million things a day, but refuses to call for help in the shower, even while muttering about how she prevails when the bottles conspire against her."

Why do I write about this?

So that after my death, my grandchildren and great grandchildren will be able to find this commentary and say, "Well, we were right about one thing. But it looks like she was batty long before she was old." 

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Read more essays from this prompt:
Josiah's submission
Linda's submission
Moody's submission

Want to make one of your own? Next week's prompt is FLASH FICTION.

Write a short story from the starting point, "Video Games." 

Flash Fiction Friday--Real Estate

Webs We Weave 

KRISANN GENTRY

Marco and Nellie Fisher came to me about six months ago, in need of waterfront property to build their first custom web. Distressingly, their first home together - a rented web in the wharf district -was vacated while under renovation, and when they returned on the scheduled date, there had been a terrible mistake--the web was occupied!

These things happen all the time, I'm afraid. Management misplaces paperwork and the Fishers are suddenly out. All the more terrifying when, like Nellie, you're ready to lay your first sac. Theirs was certainly a challenging situation. They were so desperate for a home, they had actually started looking in the cesspool district!

We were in a tough spot, sure, but like many times before, Dream Weavers Realty® did it again! We found the Fishers an ideal creekside spot under budget, and closed in record time! I can't stress enough the importance of working with a knowledgeable agent.

Call me for all your buying, selling, and refinancing needs.
   Junie S. Pryder, Real Estate Agent

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Read more stories from this prompt!
Josiah's submission
Moody's submission--coming soon.

Want to make one of your own? Next week's prompt is NON-FICTION.

Write a short essay from the starting point, "Death." 

Non-fiction Friday--50 Word Inspirational Speech

Hey all,
This week I am traveling, so this brilliant prompt suggested by regular participant Josiah Higgins seemed perfect to tackle now. See you all next week with a full-sized fiction offering. 

  NIKE   

 KRISANN GENTRY 

There are a thousand roads to choose from on the journey to becoming the person you want to be, but take care not to overcomplicate things. Sometimes, it really is just as simple as deciding to be more awesome more of the time. 

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Read more essays from this prompt:
Josiah's submission
Linda's submission
Moody's submission

Want to make one of your own? Next week's prompt is FLASH FICTION.

Write a short story from the starting point, "Real Estate." 

Flash Fiction Friday--It's Not Unusual

 Tom  

KRISANN GENTRY

     Many say they can't sleep in the big city when they first move here from nowheresville. It's all the noise from the cars, and it stays brighter too. Sure, it was weird at first, but now it's normal for me. I've never been much of a sleeper anyway, more of a napper.

     Sometimes I walk home after a gig, or after I'm finished prowling the boulevards and alleys for whatever the restaurants have to offer (the whole-in-the-wall places are always the best), and I'm reminded how I used to be amazed by the differences. Not anymore. One day I realized we had all the same stuff at home, it just looked different, and the world wasn't really that divided. Like, the mall rats I'd known; they're basically just a few years away from being identical to the bar crawlers we've got here. All the suits ignore me, same as they did in the old town. And then there are the mothers. Some of them are always trying to have me over for dinner. Others chase me away with broomsticks and curses. They don't know what kind of trouble I am or not; they just assume. Same as in the small town. Everything's the same here. There's just more of it.

     So I go out and sing for my dinner most every night. I know I could cozy up to the Italian mams and never think twice about it, but I don't want to. I genuinely want it to feel different here. My own mom took care of me at home; why would I want to domesticate myself when I came out here for my freedom in the first place? To satisfy the itch I couldn't scratch before?

     I still keep my license though, with mom's name - Jones - and the address, in case I ever need to go visit home. She'd be sad if I wasn't wearing it.
   

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Read more stories from this prompt!
Moody's submission
Josiah's submission
Linda's submission
Jeffery's submission

Want to make one of your own? Next week's prompt is NON-FICTION.

Write a short essay from the starting point, "an inspirational speech in under 50 words." 

Non-fiction Friday--Like a Kid

If I acted like my kids, I would:  

• Always say "I love you too!" and never "I love you," because I already know you love me before you say it.
• Fall on the floor and wail in despair any time I got too hungry, which would be at least fourteen times per day.
• Believe in every magical thing I hear about, with fervor.
• Get away with so. much. crap. 
• Make a game for how long I can avoid putting pants on - and try to break my own record every single day. 
• Pet a lot of bugs and snails. 
• Watch you carefully and try to be a lot like you.
• Somehow manage to get my hair into the most matted tangles history has ever seen, usually observed in My Little Pon[ies]™ and other dolls with fake hair, all within a matter of minutes.
• Cry like a banshee while you brush my hair.
• Yell at the top of my lungs how much I love you and will miss you whenever you leave my presence. Even if it's just for a minute. 
• Ask you 10,000 times if we can please just go to the park again. 
• Ask you 10,000 times if I can have a piece of gum.
• Ask you 10,000 times for a popsicle. 
• Ask you for 10,000 popsicles.
• Be heartbroken when you go to the bathroom without me. How could you?!
• Try to push every button of every device I ever encounter, regardless of who is using it at the time. 
• Climb onto your lap and then arms and then face if I need to get your attention because I love you THAT MUCH AND THIS IS URGENT AND NEEDS YOUR IMMEDIATE ATTENTION. HI.
• Take at least 40 minutes to brush my teeth and empty my bladder each night. 
• Refuse to try new foods until someone shoves a piece of it in my mouth, and then scarf the whole thing. It would probably end up my new favorite. 
• Say at least four hilarious things every day.
• Scream because my friends are screaming and it seems really fun.

Come to think of it, I probably already do at least half of this list. Husband has been consulted and his estimation is that the truth is closer to 75%, which is kind of expected when you consider these people are influencing me all day long. 

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Read more essays from this prompt:
Josiah's submission
Moody's submission
Linda's submission

Want to make one of your own? Next week's prompt is FLASH FICTION.

Write a short story from the starting point, "it's not unusual."