I've been trying for nearly a year to collect a full house of Flash Fiction wins (Monday through Friday).  Tuesday has always eluded me with #5MinuteFiction always being at a time when I can't get to my computer and #TuesdayTales so challenging with both a picture and a keywords and only 100 words to tell the story.

The Fleet Street Bakery (or Eatery) earned that coveted Tuesday slot.  Thank you so much to host Stevie McCoy and judge Rosie Smith-Nazilli.  I honestly believed the entry to be too eccentric to be accepted, I'm glad I went ahead and submitted it.  It just goes to show, you shouldn't be your own judge.

Fleet Street Eatery
By Wakefield Mahon

“I once loved a man who couldn’t love me back.”

“Aye, there’s a story I’ve heard before.”

“You’ve no idea the things I did for that man.  Still he pined for the pretty thing even after she’d lost her mind.”

She sat a pie in front of me, to which I turned up my nose. “No thanks.”

Mrs. Lovett warned me, “No one likes a judge.”

Then she broke into a maniacal fit of laughter. 

I judge her meat pies to be quite tonsorial, and vengeance a dish best served with a nice glass of Chianti and some fava beans.

Try Your Luck
By Wakefield Mahon

It all started with a bet.  You’d think I would have learned by now, following that damned fool in his failed grab for power. I lost my job, got thrown out of my comfy house all because he thought he’d be a better boss.  In my defense, the man is slicker than any used car salesman you’ve ever met.

Oh right, the bet.  He said I couldn’t find 100 people with a lick of sense.  Of course, he explained the rules of the bet AFTER I accepted.  “Human beings have one common saying, ‘I can resist anything except temptation.”  So he dropped me in the hottest place on this forsaken earth and put a charm on the place.  Now I’m waiting for 100 souls to pass this sign and come back out of town without giving in to the lights, the glamour, the sex, the alcohol and the shiniest gem of all, the chance at “easy money”.  I’m not giving up, though.  When I win I’m taking over the gang and leaving him in the desert. I’ll apologize to the Boss and get my old air conditioned mansion back.  I just need 86 more volunteers.  Care to try your luck?

Report Card
By Wakefield Mahon

“Sanjana, what are you doing in the closet?”
No answer.
“Young lady, I don’t feel like playing today. I’ve had a very long day; just tell me what you are hiding for.”
Her slender brown hand appeared around the side of the door and pointed.
I followed her gesture to the coffee table. “Oh I see. You got your report card today. You’ve been doing so well, what’s wrong?”
I opened the envelope and smiled. The yellow note read “Transfer requested.”
Sanjana paced nervously in front of me, head down.
“Silly girl, you’ve been accepted to the mystic sciences class.”

"Wishes" earned my second 55 Word Challenge Badge.  Thank you to hostess Lisa McCourt Hollar and Judge and Artist Elaine Hilson So... what books should I buy on Amazon?

In Times of Love and War
By Wakefield Mahon

“What are you doing? Get down from that horse young lady!” Aunt Gertrude stood with her back ramrod straight and her arms crossed, a scowl etched into her elderly face.
“You mustn’t make me. I have to ride to prepare myself.” Hilda implored her guardian with voice and eyes, but with little effect.
“You should be studying for exams and preparing yourself for a suitable husband. Instead, you spend all day mooning over that Erik boy and getting your clothes dirty. Is that your mother’s silk blouse?”
“I’m sorry Auntie; I forgot I was wearing it.” Hilda dismounted, careful not to tear her clothes. She stood before Aunt Gertrude, her eyes downcast.
“Oh if only your mother were still here, maybe she’d know how to deal with you. Just what is it you believe you are preparing for? Perhaps you plan to be a common woman. Proper ladies don’t ride horses.”
Hilda glared up defiantly. “Erik has joined the military as a young officer of the Crown. When he returns, he will build us a proper home on a decent estate.”
“He takes a gamble these violent days. I’ll give him that much, but what has that to do with riding?”
“I want to be a Valkyrie. If Erik should fall in battle, I can be there to carry him home. And in Heaven I will wait on him until the day of the Great Battle. I will bring him his wine even as his lips are wine to me.”

By Wakefield Mahon

“The yard is full of them, how will you know which one, Sally?”
“I’ll know.”
Timmy shrugged. At the wise old age of eight, his sister knew far more than he. “What do we do?”
“We blow off the seeds and wish really hard.”
“And then daddy will come home?”
“If we do it right.”