The objective of the Fast Fiction Friday exercise is to write with complete focus on the given subject. One of the best ways to accomplish this task is to write for a set amount of time, without distractions and without editing. Let the words flow from your mind to the paper and ignore self doubt and outside issues. The goal is to become so addicted to writing that you can't help but do it! All writers are welcome whether you write short stories, poems, memoirs, non-fiction, essays or a personal journal. Feel free to share your work or link back.

FFF - Cell Phone Mischief 3.21.14

Here is your newest FFF prompt...
Go with the first thoughts that come to your mind and write!

Cell phone mischief.

1 comment:

  1. Here's a take on your phone mischief prompt...

    Miss Apprehension

    Amber kept her smart phone tucked next to her thigh so Jablonski, the mad Hungarian English teacher, couldn’t see her texting messages to her bf and sister in the classroom down the hall. She hit as a tiny ding indicated an incoming message.

    Thirteen-year-old Amber, and Brittany, her sister and almost-adult senior at Harrison High, had carved out a world impenetrable to adults, teachers, and imaginary stalkers. They cocooned in a universe of their own making.

    Then Brittany dropped the bomb. “Mom sez she and dad r going 2 divorce next month. Can u believe it?"

    Amber screeched and her head shot up.

    “Something you want to share?” Mr. Jablonski asked.

    “No sir. Um, I just had a thought.”

    “I hope it has to do with Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice?”

    Amber shrugged and lowered her head. Fucking teachers, she said sub vocally. Dad and Mom getting divorced!

    “OMG?! What r we gonna do?” she texted Brittany.”

    “Lol. Im gonna run away to Vegas w/ Jason. He axed me 2 marry him I think. FYI, ur still a kid and will be adopted by gypsies. CUL8R.”

    “W8! Im 2 young 2 B an orphan!” There was no response as the bell rang. Thirty students jumped to their feet and flooded from the room though a hole in the educational dike.

    Amber stared at her impassive phone, waiting for it to chime salvation with a clarifying message. Thoughts rushed into her head, filling the vacuum of the classroom. Mom and Dad had had that terrible shouting match, something about finding beer bottle caps in Brittany’s car. “Ma, I told you,” Brit screamed, “those things get caught on your shoe. That’s how they’re dragged into your car. It’s like toilet paper sticks to shoes.”

    “Quick thinking, young lady,” Mom said. “Why don’t you admit you were drinking beer with, Jason, that unemployed dead-end boy whom I don’t approve of?” Then Dad and Mom began shouting at each other.

    Amber stood, and bumped into Jablonski doing a statue thing in front of her. “Amber, I’d like to speak to you,” he said.

    “Up yours,” she shouted, parting the sea of exiting classmates. She bypassed the cafeteria and headed out the door. The city bus took her up Park Street and she jumped off at her cross street. Unlocking the front door, — hadn’t she been a latchkey kid all her life? — she slammed it open.

    “I just want to warn you!” she screamed in the hallway.

    Her mother came out from the living room with a dust rag and can of Pledge. “About what, Amber? And why are you home so early?”

    “I’m not going to live with any damn gypsies, just cause you and Dad can’t handle each other. I’ll kill myself first!”

    “You know, I’m sometimes confused.” She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. “Gypsies? Dad and I get along just fine, thank you kindly.”

    “Brittany said you’re getting divorced next month. Don’t lie, please. Some of my best friends have one-parent families. They’re, like, half orphans. Fatherless zombies.”

    Her mother’s lips made a mmm-mmm-mmm sound, indicating she was searching her memory banks for data. “Divorce. I haven’t thought of that since the Gustafsons down the street went off with separate lovers. Who knew, with them so quiet and Republican about things?”

    “Brit said, ‘You and Dad are going to divorce next month.‘”

    Ah,” her mother sighed, “Brittany. I texted her earlier that Dad and I are going to Disney next month. With you two, of course.”

    “Brittany said….” Amber looked confused. “Divorced.”

    Her mother took her hands in hers. “You know what I think? Daddy and I have new smarty-pants phones, and they think they’re smarter than us. They do this auto correct thing. He texted me yesterday that he nailed his secretary. I asked him about it last night and he said, ‘No, I e-mailed my secretary.’”

    “Hey, Ma, just kidding about suicide, okay?” Amber mustered a 15-watt smile, deciding she’d have to kill Brittany before Jablonski killed her.