The Rusted Bucket List

Among the list of things I never want to experience again, getting stuck in an airport overnight is damn near the top. It’s right below pregnancy, which is just above having my brain surrounded by a fortress of mucus. This is what happened a couple of weeks ago when I was stranded at the airport due to inclement weather.

Weather wasn’t the reason I had to spend the night sick in the airport. It was American Airlines’ poor customer service. You see, when flights are delayed due to weather, it’s considered an “act of God” and therefore not the airline’s problem. However, when the gate attendant updates the departure in increments of an hour at a time until the flight crew is no longer viable, “timed-out” as they called it, the flight must then be cancelled. That certainly is not an act of God but one of poor planning. The Devil’s in the details, don’t ya know.

Pushing back the departure time for hours then cancelling the flight altogether at 2a.m. when there are no rental cars and no hotel rooms is ludicrous. Of course, they “know we have a choice when flying” and so thanked us for our business with an invitation to take a spot on the floor next to any stranger and make ourselves comfortable.

All that to say, I missed the last few Friday Fictioneers because it seems there is no end to the number of people who have no problem wasting my time, but I’ll save that rant for another day. Suffice to say incompetence abounds through space and time in workplaces everywhere.

Copyright Jennifer Pendergast

Another Never Ending Story

In the vast expanse of the universe, there are large pockets of time. In one of them, there was once an enormous pocket watch. One day, or was it night? Yes, night, a dark and stormy night, and on that treacherous night, lightning streaked and thunder rolled for what seemed like an eternity. Then CRACK! The chain snapped and the pocket watch fell to earth. A thousand days and nights had come and gone without so much as a tic toc, but ever since that epic moment of impact, time wasters have roamed the earth without a minute to spare.


Thanks for reading. More Friday Fictioneers are here. Thanks to Jennifer Pendergast for this week’s prompt and Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, who has a thing or two to say about time.

Times Are A Changin’

It has come to my attention that the world doesn’t stand still at my command. Days begin and end, as do semesters, without a care for how many things need to be crammed into them. While I’d like to think I could stop time and make it wait for me to catch up, I cannot. Damn the relentless tic-tocking!

I missed posting a story for Friday Fictioneers last week. It was written, but I just didn’t get around to posting it. So, if you will indulge me, kind readers, you will get two, similar but different, stories for the price of one this week.

Last week’s prompt, courtesy of Georgia Koch, inspired this story:

Copyright Georgia Koch
Copyright Georgia Koch

Sink or Swim

Madeline stepped off the train. She’d made the first decision solely for herself in more than twenty years. The crowd waiting to greet the other passengers with hugs, bouquets, and squeals of delight was almost more than she could stand.

She felt dizzy. She made her way to the bench at the end of the platform. There was no luggage to claim. She’d arrived with only the small satchel her mother had given her all those years ago when she was a young bride.

She wondered for a moment if it had been a good idea to rock the boat.


This week’s prompt, courtesy of Ted Strutz, yielded the impromptu recycled story below, entitled Adaptation. This word has been on my mind a lot lately. My life, each and every moment of it, is one continuous adaptation. The time for my mediation practicum is finally here. I am excited to reach this point and am looking forward to what’s in store next as I get closer to graduation. Much of my writing energy will be consumed these next few months by class assignments. In light of this, posts will continue to be limited. I hope you enjoy these stories. Thanks for reading. Be sure to check out more Friday Fictioneers here.

Copyright: Ted Strutz
Copyright: Ted Strutz


Madeline stepped off the train, her future a mystery. The crowd, greeting other passengers with hugs, bouquets, squeals of delight, was more than she could stand. She felt dizzy, powerless. Her energy drained, like someone had pulled the plug on her just as she summoned the strength to make the first choice solely for herself in more than twenty years. She made her way to the bench at the end of the platform. There was no luggage to claim. She’d arrived with only a satchel filled with odds and ends from her old life.

That life, dead to her now.