If you fly and you like it, or you just don't use butter, then i hope you have a wonderful life. But if you have flown an suffered, and had wished that the butter which comes to you frozen solid, after being kept outside, on the wingtips as bait for the gremlins, here's what you have to do.

The main dish, or the entrée is in a metal container and pretty hot, an exact opposite for the glacial butter . open the dish, let it cool...

But...

Shove the butter container under or right against the container.

The heat will loosen and thaw the butter and by the time you are ready to eat, you will have the butter perfectly malliable, to spread with the plastic utensil, even the spoon.

Now, i am not claiming a patent here. It could be that other frustrated souls have come up with a likewise solution. I just hope this brings fatty, artery-clogging comfort to all of you out there.

Be strong.

Challenge

you're gone but you're on my mind

use this to inspire a piece, poetry or prose! these are lyrics from the song, Agnes by Glass Animals : D

simplyruth

22 reads

Lingering Shadow

Your smile,

although a little slanted,

shows your dimples,

and lingers on the mirror.

Your books,

filled with highlights,

and underlines,

takes refuge on the coffee table.

Your coffee mug,

holds the stain of your lips,

lucious and full,

holding my heart captive.

Your lingering shadow,

never seems to fade,

as it follows my every move,

intending to be my unwilling guest.

KellyAnn

77 reads

Ya know

I woke up late one morning, and I realized some things

I deserve the finer things like dresses and rings

So I jumped to my feet and I ran down the stairs

To find my Dad and his wallet in one of his favorite chairs

I explained that a little dough would really raise my morale

And you wouldn’t believe the audacity of what he said to this gal

He said to me “money doesn’t grow off a tree

And Ill tell you what, the best things in life are free”

“Well dad if you don’t have the cash then that’s fine

Just please stop quoting your tv shows line for line.”

Running away I figured, if he couldn’t satisfy my greed

That my mother would truly understand a girls need

So I hoofed it to the garden to find my old lady

And I tried to explain my ordeal without sounding shady

“Hey Mom it’s your favorite child, it’s me

I need more money for luxuries, can’t you see?

She told me “Honey you find yourself a rich man

And you bleed him for every dollar that you can.”

I yelled “Mom I’ll stop you there, I’m not going to hook

And if I wanted a fantasy man, I would of picked up a book”

Displeased with my parents, I had only one other

Maybe the only one that cares for me is my brother

So I crawled back up the stairs and burst into his room

I told him that I was poor and that it filled me with gloom

What I didn’t expect was for him to be such a snob

He said “Couldn’t you, I don’t know... get a job?”

Challenge

Write a story or poem based on this painting (it will appear as the first entry to this challenge) Please no criticism of the painting itself. Enjoy!

therambler666

20 reads

Coming Home.

It had been six long months. Six, unbearably cold, frustratingly heart-breaking months ridden with the fresh anguish of separation. As she rushed, her golden hair flowing behind her, she could spare no thought to the winds that lifted her feet or the soft grass that ever-so-slightly crunched under her toes. No moments separated the thoughts of her daughter from the beginnings of roots and unfurling of buds from their vines.

What must be the state of her child? Her poor baby girl, tricked by Death and chained by the bitter seed of her own fruit. Near starved, no doubt, as the world felt in the absence her beautiful child to tend to their grains and welcome their bountiful, golden harvests. Perhaps, anxious, full of stories and terrible demons to hush up and cover with soft kisses and gentle lullabies? Perhaps, terrified, unable to wash the wicked happenings of her blue eyes? Perhaps, overjoyed, ready to hug her mother once more and to shake the trees alive with her peals of laughter?

The thoughts wrapped their silken fingers in tight embrace around the mother's heart, the last welling her eyes and lifting the corners of her mouth. She came to a standstill, surveying the tangled mess of vines and new fruit, purple flowers unfurling in spurts. Her heart raced as she began to make out the lines of a face, thinly veined eyelids fluttering open and closed. The vegetation began to find their lives renewed as she hovered impatiently over the emerging face with one thought- her baby was coming home.

Challenge

Write a short story about an encounter with a monster.

The monster can be real or fictional, literal or metaphorical. All that's needed is a protagonist and a monster to avoid/escape successfully or not.

KellyAnn

75 reads

Awake

My eyes open with a jolt at midnight. The room was hot, and I had broken out in a cold sweat. A nightmare had awoken me but the details were fuzzy. My heart still raced from my dream.

The room was dark with blacks and grays. Shapes were visible, but it was hard to tell what was what. The door to the bedroom was open leading to absolute darkness.

I picked my head up off of my pillow to look at the doorway. Unease filled my mind as I focused my eyes on a new silhouette. A large dark spot, darker then what was seen through the doorway before.

Maybe it was just the shadow from a painting out in the hall. I’m just being a little paranoid. My eyes could just be playing tricks on me in the dark. That’s what I thought as I watched that dark figure moving further through my doorway.

I pull the covers up over my head, and try to go back to sleep. Only now I can’t sleep. I laid there for a few minutes, getting too hot under my thick blanket. The only way I can go back to sleep is to pull my covers back down and prove to myself that what I saw was all in my mind. So that’s what I decide to do.

Slowly I lift the corner of my blanket just enough to look at my door. Nothing’s there. Relieved I uncover myself to show the rest of the bedroom. A tall, dark and faceless figure stood now at the end of my bed, hovering over me.

I scream, and wake up. Shaking from fear of what I had dreamed, I sit in the same spot I’ve been in all night. The same spot I’ve been in during my nightmare. I took a deep breath and thought about what had happened in my dream, but the details were fuzzy.

darknight

60 reads

behind the brick garden wall

cold and artificial

tall and looming

a lavish greenery awaits us

countless flowers blooming

masking the scenery

with their sickly sweet scents

a small pond

decorated in lillypads

and an abundance of cattails

the fish say hello

the frogs watch silently

from their moss covered rocks

butterflies flitter about

dancing with each other

the lazy cat

lounging on the garden wall

mewls loudly

as if inviting us

to come and play

it’s just behind the brick garden wall

Challenge

Tell us a story.

One paragraph. Four sentences, not four lines. A beginning and ending. You fill in the middle. No dialogue. It can be loving, funny, sad, even enlightening. Tag me in the comment section as: @Danceinsilence so that I can read your work. Winner will receive The Flash Fiction Award Certificate ... and as always, I will start this off

indego in Flash Fiction

115 reads

Excitedly, she talks of how she can't wait to attend her dream university and stay in love with her long distance boyfriend. And me, sitting quietly on her rug, cross-legged, watching her as she packs. Knowing all to well that her boyfriend has already broken his promises of fidelity. Knowing that I, her sister, have been the sole cause.