#016

110's own Jerry Hartman took this photo. I thought it was absolutely perfect for this blog. It's unique, different, creative. Here's what Jerry had to say about this snapshot.

"...this was a piece of playground equipment in the playground at Children’s Home # 1 in Almaty Kazakhstan where we met our daughter Anastasia. The mountains in the background are translated as The Old Man. If you follow them on a map they become the Himalayas."

Kudos, Jerry! And remember, if you'd like to see your photo featured on this blog, send me your best pic to the110wordsflickrexperiment@yahoo.com and you may see yourself featured on here!

As for the featured writing entry this week.... The winner is... Tim Parsley. Tim's new to 110words, but I was blown away with his story. It had all of the right elements... A good storyline, emotion, descriptive words. You knew the who, what, where and why. All of the key elements that we discuss on this blog. Great job, Tim!

"Rocket"
By: Tim P.

Pulling the last drag, she pushes out the smoke sideways through pursed lips as her eyes narrow at the red rocket still standing in her back yard. Propped casually in an old lawn chair, a crossed leg bounces repeatedly from under her lime green bathrobe. A thinning house slipper dangles from her foot.

When he built the rocket the boys were still small. Six and four? Five and three? Hard to remember. Been so long. Boys are both driving now.

Clearing her throat, she stands up, walks inside the house. Pulls the patio door closed. Through the glass, eyes the rocket.

Four years since he left. That, she remembers.

Gimme some more...

Star Launcher
By: Randy H.

Grandpa Les worked 40 years at the pipeline company. He got a gold watch and a handshake for his time. I remember when he brought home an old metal pipe and some sheet metal. He spent a whole Saturday pounding and welding. He built the "Star Launcher" for my sister and me to play on. We had so much fun pretending we were space pirates blasting off deep into the galaxy. That is until Uncle Bobby got caught with his girlfriend late one night having his own space odyssey. We'd never seen Grandpa so mad. We starting calling it "The Love Shuttle" and never played on it again.

The Dollhouse Astronaut
By: Ken G.

Floyd was taking a break from his "Honey-Do" list. Agnes had been riding him all week to finish the dollhouse in the backyard. He flipped on the television as he finished his PBJ looking for the game when he landed on TBS and saw Billy Bob Thorton. . .

"Mr. Farmer, how do we know you aren't constructing a WMD?"

"Sir, if I was building a weapon of mass destruction, you wouldn't be able to find it."

Floyd tossed the PBJ and went immediately into the backyard on a mission. "Forget the dollhouse," he muttered to himself, "I'm going to turn that swing set into a WMD!"

The Interstellar Federation vs. Probate Affair
By: Jerry H.

Nigel looked at the rusting playground rocket in his parent’s back yard. Recollections of his dad welding the sheet metal, Nigel helping, wearing loose fitting goggles, and the ornamental flowers incident filled him like a toothache.

The yellow flowers were his Mom’s demand, “I will not have NCC-666/USSWIDOWMAKER” displayed in my yard.

Now his dad was 12 years gone, and his mom was having her aged hippie face painted by a stranger so that friends would glance down at her and say “She looks good”.

He wished that he could fit into that rocket and warp away from tomorrow’s visitation and tears turned the flowers into sunspots.

Toasting the Old Man
By: Tres K

Dad died yesterday. He’d been working on it since… well, a couple of years anyway. Sarah made it back last Tuesday and for once Dave didn’t leave town, so we were all together. Not quite like “old times” but I guess it’s as close as we’ll get.

The house is too full now. Too many people, too much noise; too full of the old man even. So I’m out back, looking at my childhood. Sarah brings me a cold one and we talk about the time he built that old rocket. “So my boys can follow Neil Armstrong” he said. Then Sarah went and painted flowers on it. Priceless.

Title: Hansel Goes Metal: A Tale of the Nouveaux Witche
By: Deb Freitag

Witch! He screamed as he ran out the broken doorway of the old woman’s tiny home.

Ever since the 90s when the Berlin Wall was moved into her backyard, the tourists had gentrified the Black Forest. Now Hilde’s lifestyle was being challenged daily.

Stray children were harder to come by. And when they came, they took the candy off her house -- as if they owned it. One little wretch stole her door and used it as a snowboard to get away.

And now the thinning ozone grounded her flying broom due to a fiery reentry. So Hilde got herself a new ride. It pays to have a backup plan.