The December 19, 2023 story challenge from Charli Mills at Carrot Ranch is to: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about beauty beyond the grave. Who is showing up for you? Will you press into a Dream of your own? Do you dare write of beauty graveside? What connections or contrasts come to mind? Is Beauty Beyond the Grave a modern/ancient myth? Go where the prompt leads! Submit by January 1, 2024.

A couple weeks ago, characters from long ago prompts returned for the Carrot Ranch “Dance Off” prompt. Below are two more 99-word stories that fit and follow that prompt. The third flash is for the “Beyond the Grave” prompt.

Stepping Up, Stepping Out by D. Avery

“Look, T.J. says you’re a topnotch ranch hand, but sure seems like you could save yourself a lot of aggravation by not dancing in sparkly lady’s shoes.”

Clem had brought his beer to the table where Prince now sat with Tom and his father.

“It’s how I practice for rodeo. I bet you can’t go eight seconds in these shoes.”

“My feet’ll be cinched up pretty tight. Eight seconds, ey?”

After Clem fell on his way to the dance floor other cowboys kicked off their boots and tried the stilettos. Bets flew. But none could dance in Prince’s shoes.

xxx

“No more takers?” Clem called, holding up the gold stilettos. Prince took his shoes back, set them by his chair. “Well, the boys had a bit of friendly fun, ey?”

“Some of the jokes didn’t sound entirely friendly, Clem,” TJ said.

“Like I said, this kid could save himself some trouble by keeping his boots on.”

“I’ll be wearing my boots next weekend at the rodeo,” Prince said. “And I’ll go eight seconds on the bull, wait and see.”

“Dancer and a bull rider, ey?”

And Clem left their table for another, already taking wagers for the upcoming rodeo.

Beauty Beyond the Grave by D. Avery

“Thanks, T.J.”

Tom’s father only nodded. He caught Tom’s eye then both looked away.

“I could still be on my father’s ranch. He said it was my ranch, if only I’d stop.”

“Stop what?” Tom asked.

“Being myself. I told him I couldn’t live that way, his way. He said I was dead to him. Guess when I left home that very day I was leaving my grave.” Prince smiled quietly. “There’s so much beauty beyond the grave.”

Then he was on the dance floor again, swaying in his holey socks, twirling his lariat to a slow, sad song.

Check out the Red collection at Carrot Ranch for some fantastic flash fiction and poems.

In addition to what I post here for the Carrot Ranch challenges, there’s always the Ranch Yarns with Kid and Pal’s responses HERE.

The December 12, 2023 story challenge from Charli Mills at Carrot Ranch is to: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a dance-off. Who has come together in dance for what purpose? What are dancers wearing? What kind of music? Bring some unity to people through the act of coming together, each getting to step to their own groove. Go where the prompt leads! Submit by December 18, 2023.

This prompt led me to a character from some older prompts. The first three flashes are republished here, the fourth being in response to the current “Dance-Off” challenge.

The Cat and the Fiddle by D. Avery

The new hire was twirling his lariat even as he stepped down from his pickup. Tom forgot his sulking and watched, enchanted. The loop drifted soft and slow like a summer cloud over Tom’s grinning dad, began to settle over his sister, who was swoony at the prospect, then the loop shifted direction and as steadily as the smile leaving Liza’s face, ensnared Tom.

“Hey diddle diddle. Lassoed a cowboy.” As he freed Tom they held each other’s gaze.

“Dad reckons I might learn from you.”

“Reckon so.”

Liza sulked more than a little. Tom was over the moon.

And the Dish Ran Away With the Spoon by D. Avery

Poised proud on the dashboard, they shone through the windshield.

“Shouldn’t you return those shoes to whoever left them in your truck?” Liza was chastising but also hopeful to get the sparkly gold stilettos as a consolation prize. Tom’s dad, still oblivious, also chastised the young man.

“It’s a might unseemly, keeping trophies out in plain view like that.”

“Yessir,” and he gathered the stilettos in one hand, pulled his scruffy duffle bag from the front seat with the other. “But they’re no trophy. They’re mine.”

Tom studied his own dusty work boots, as if for the first time.

At the Table by D. Avery

“You know, Tom,” his dad said, catching him in a yawn across the dinner table, “You sure have been pushing yourself the last couple weeks.”

Tom looked at the hired hand, a young man called Prince, as he told his dad that he worked so hard because he wanted to wear himself out, wanted to be too tired to think or feel at the end of the day. Then he faced his father. “And if I do give in to what I’m thinking and feeling, least you’ll know I can work, that I ain’t soft.”

Liza drawled, “There’s trouble on the horizon,” her eyes darting around the table looking to see it, but her father and brother were both looking down, both suddenly busy with the food on their plates.

“My father hasn’t spoken to me in over five years,” Prince said.

Tom’s father paused, coughed, looked at Tom when he said, “That’s too bad, Prince; he should want to know that his son puts in a day’s work would make any man proud.”

Dance-Off by D. Avery

Their meals had just arrived when Tom and his dad spied a young cowboy in a flashy shirt and tight jeans, dancing by himself, for himself, his gold stilettos glimmering stars across the scarred tavern floor. Prince, their hired hand.

Blushing, Tom looked away until, hearing the abrupt scrape of his dad’s chair, he turned back in alarm. “Dad, don’t!”

But Tom’s dad had rushed to restrain an assailant.

“No more, Clem,” his dad warned. Clem stalked off. “Why’d you have to dance like that, Prince?”

Prince got up, grinning through bloodied lips. “I don’t dance, Boss; I prance.”

Check out the Moose!! collection at Carrot Ranch for some fantastic flash fiction and poems.

In addition to what I post here for the Carrot Ranch challenges, there’s always the Ranch Yarns with Kid and Pal’s responses HERE.

The November 21, 2023 story challenge from Charli Mills at Carrot Ranch is to: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about a ship named the Huntress. What type of ship is it? Where does it go and what does it carry? Who are the characters involved with this ship? What happens? Go where the prompt leads! Submit by November 27, 2023. Here are three 99-word responses from me, perhaps appropriate considerations on this particular day.

Portland POV His by D. Avery

I don’t read, but I hear this ship is called Huntress. I call my wife Huntress sometimes, our private joke. She isn’t one of the white folks in town called Huntress. She’s Penobscot, and can hunt up something to eat better than anyone.

As I roll cask after cask of molasses from the ship to the wharf my thoughts are constant as the waves lapping the pilings. I wonder What does this Huntress prey on? The auction house in Kittery is closed now. Slavery has been outlawed here. Naked Africans aren’t in the hold.

But the rum trade continues.

Portland POV Hers by D. Avery

Neither of us had many options in this town, but he’s a good man. Though I shake my head when he says his family’s been here longer than most of the whites because his grandfather, a Cape Verdean, came with the cod fishermen; shake my head when he says he’s a free man.

Who is free when the blood and bodies of trees choke the rivers? The trees become barrel staves, shipped to where our ancestors, his and mine, were taken, where our people are still enslaved.

His “Huntress” makes maple sugar, the cost of molasses being too dear.

Charli’s prompt post mentioned Portland, Maine and the 1840’s-era Huntress that sailed into her imagination. These characters that I imagined are in Portland in the 1780’s after Massachusetts, and thereby Maine, had outlawed slavery, though laws and codes persisted in Massachusetts to keep people of color separate and unequal. The highly profitable slave trade also persisted, with New England ships continuing to sail to the west coast of Africa and ports in the southern colonies, and sailing frequently to the Caribbean, which relied on enslavement for molasses production with captives from New England’s “Indian Wars” enslaved there alongside Africans.

Check out the Waiting collection at Carrot Ranch for some fantastic flash fiction and poems.

In addition to what I post here for the Carrot Ranch challenges, there’s always the Ranch Yarns with Kid and Pal’s responses HERE.