Black & White

He was a good bicyclist, skillful and considerate, always riding to the right of the white line. He used lights and always wore reflective clothing, making himself visible to drivers.

They say he was a good man, teaching children to ride, fixing their bikes.

His road bike was the green of a sent text message. The truck was gray, they think.

They found his bike tangled on the yellow line. His white helmet had somehow come off, somehow whole and spinning, spinning, on the silent black tar of the highway. They marked the spot with a white ghost bike.

This is my second take for the February 1, 2018, Carrot Ranch prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that features something black and white. It could be a nun in a zebra monster truck, a rigid way of thinking, a bird in a tuxedo — be imaginative and go where the prompt leads. Respond by February 6 , 2018, to be included in the compilation (published February 7). Rules are here. All writers are welcome!

Mother Church

For the Carrot Ranch prompt this week I add on to an earlier story, Nashville Dreams.   In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that features something black and white. It could be a nun in a zebra monster truck, a rigid way of thinking, a bird in a tuxedo — be imaginative and go where the prompt leads. Respond by February 6 , to be included in the compilation. All writers are welcome!

Mother Church

Outside the Ryman, hoping for coffee, I watch an agitated couple; seeing me, they hand me a ticket, say ‘enjoy the tour’, disappear up the street.

I’m happy to go inside, warm, with clean bathrooms. Not how I dreamed it, but I’m going to the Mother Church.

For hours I sit in the pews, awestruck. Memories and magic spirit the altar of the Grand Ole Opry stage. Tourists come and go but I remain, unmoving. I am moved. I am restored.

I leave, hopeful again. Looking up I see, high above this haunted town, a bald eagle, searching, soaring.