A Stitch in Time: 99 Word Flash Fiction

This week’s prompt over at Carrot Ranch was to write a 99-word (no more, no less) flash fiction on the theme of many hands and to go where the prompt leads. This is my take on the prompt, but all of the stories can be found at http://www.carrotranch.com

A Stitch in Time

Julia, Mary, Elizabeth, Susannah, and a few others from the group were discussing the books they were reading. There was also a bit of gossip going on across the table. The air was filled with their chatter, and laughter broke out here and there.

Still, that did not deter Julia and her friends from their mission. With so many hands to stitch the pieces of fabric together, they were making another quilt for the veteran’s home. What once was their monthly quilting bee for themselves had become a way to give back to those who had served their country.

Nancy Brady, 2019

Quilting (quilting bees) has always fascinated me. I made a very small quilt during a library program as well as stitched a quilt piece for a Girl Scouts badge on needlework. I have to say that it was one of the badges I was most proud to wear.

Not only did I learn a bit about quilting, but I also learned to needlepoint, thanks to our troop leader, Mrs. MacPherson. My knowledge of embroidery stitches expanded, too. I don’t know if little girls still learn to embroider, but it was one activity I enjoyed during my youth.

I don’t do as much needlework as I used to, but sometimes I still get out the embroidery hoop for a project. And, of course, I still have to complete a needlepoint canvas of a swan that I started way-back-when. Someday…


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Talking to oneself…what an awesome concept! Wise words from a fellow writer, Barbara, otherwise known as Keyboard Maven. Because I talk to myself all the time, I can relate to this. Can you?

Barbara Froman

René Magritte, Le Principe Du Plaisir, 1937

I talk to myself. When I shop, cook, read, practice (sometimes), go for long walks—I imagine and comment often unconsciously, no matter who’s around. And I always write out loud…always.

It’s not enough for me to see characters talk to each other on the page, express themselves through inner monologues, or confess their longings in letters; I have to hear them do it. Nothing about them or their situation feels concrete until my ear can process their voices. The same is true for an objective narrator. I have to hear the narration in order to see the scene and action.

I started talking to myself when I started reading, an offshoot, I suppose, of being read to by my parents. When I started school, I read everything I needed to learn aloud; and when I got older, I learned to keep my…

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Haiku Dialogue: Weathered wall

This week’s theme at the Haiku Foundation’s Haiku Dialogue was weathered wall, and this pedometer geek writer was gratified that the editor of the column, Craig Kittner, chose the haiku I submitted.

weathered fence

apple blossoms poke

through the slats

Nancy Brady, 2019


See all the haiku on this theme on the Haiku Foundation’s website and read some excellent haiku on the theme.




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Haiku Dialogue: Shiny instrument

This week’s Haiku Dialogue at The Haiku Foundation (thehaikufoundation.org) had a theme of shiny instrument.

My haiku:

first year resident…

a blood droplet

on her new scalpel

~Nancy Brady, 2019

Read all of them including commentary by Craig Kittner and others at thehaikufoundation.org as there are some really excellent ones there.

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Childhood Memory: A 99-word Flash

This week over at Carrot Ranch, the prompt was to write 99 words (no more, no less) about trees. In particular, seeking a tree or forest, but this writer returned to her roots and wrote about a tree from the past.

Childhood Memory

Before Mister Rogers Neighborhood and Sesame Street, there was a local program called Luci’s Toy Shop.

Luci had puppet characters including George the Giraffe, Dragon, and Mr. Tree.

Mr. Tree talked after he was awakened with a song.

“Hi there, Mr. Tree, we’re very glad to see you.

Wake up Mr. Tree; it’s daytime, can’t you see?’

With a big yawn, Mr. Tree would finally wake up, and he and Luci would converse about the day of the week. Eventually, Luci would slip, saying the word sleep and Mr. Tree would fall back to sleep until the next time.

Nancy Brady, 2019

To read all of the other writers’ take on this week’s prompt, check out http://www.carrotranch.com.


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Flash: A 99-word Flash

Normally this pedometer geek writes only one 99-word (no more, no less) flash piece for the Carrot Ranch prompt, but this prompt about aging resonates with me. Here is a second contribution.


Flash is our cat. Born in April, 2001, she is now eighteen years old. What that exactly equates to in feline years, we can only guess. According to the veterinarian, she is probably a centenarian.

Despite her geriatric status, Flash has always acted like a kitten. Even now, as she deals with minor tooth infections and cloudy vision, she still manages to act like the feisty little kitten she once was, racing and meowing through the house as if hell-hounds are chasing her.

Flash has aged, but so have we. Her time is limited, but then so is ours.

Nancy Brady, 2019

See all the flash pieces over at http://www.carrotranch.com or contribute one of your own.




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Hands Across the Years: A 99-word Flash

This pedometer geek has to admit that writing has taken a backseat to every other thing recently. Between working, volunteering, reading, and just being lazy (and day-to-day life), nothing has been produced writing-wise. Okay, one poem was written, and now this 99-word (no more, no less) flash piece based on this week’s prompt at Carrot Ranch (www.carrotranch.com). The theme was to write about aging as Charli Mills, the chief word wrangler at Carrot Ranch, is celebrating another year of life around the sun. Here is my contribution.

Hands Over the Years

An early memory of Mom was of her wearing a yellow, full-skirted seersucker dress to the zoo on a bright June day. Her dress rivaled the sun and epitomized a young mother full of energy. I was only five at the time.

Time aged us both, and suddenly, I was a mother myself. Visits to my parents brought both delight and sadness as I noticed her worsening rheumatoid arthritis. Her hands became more gnarled and disfigured through the years.

Now, I look at my own hands for signs of aging and wonder what my sons see when we visit.

Nancy Brady, 2019

Now that I have thawed from my writing slump, perhaps I will write another 99-word flash piece and participate once again in the writing community here and at Carrot Ranch. To see all of this week’s entries or participate yourself, head over to http://www.carrotranch.com.



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