Fingers fly fast in activity. Speed hints of passion and ability. Pianists trip fingers over keys, authors type to the speed of imagination, and tricksters ply nimble fingers.
Writers followed the lead of fast fingers and contemplated the
Fingers fly fast in activity. Speed hints of passion and ability. Pianists trip fingers over keys, authors type to the speed of imagination, and tricksters ply nimble fingers.
Writers followed the lead of fast fingers and contemplated the characters attached to such digits. Each story flies with creativity.
The following are based on the March 29, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about fingers that fly.
PART I (10-minute read)
Lifetime Savings by Ritu Bhathal
Nervously, Frank handed the package over to the girl.
“Now, be careful with that—” He paused to look at her name tag “—Jennifer. I worked hard for those dollars. Now they tell me I gotta keep it in a bank, and not under my mattress. Safety, they say. It was plenty safe with me – until they got that new cleaner in. I don’t like her. Always tidying. I know she knows where I keep my money…”
Frank watched as Jennifer’s fingers flew, deftly lifting and counting the bills, like a seasoned pro.
“You will keep it safe, won’t you?”
Showdown: Nickel Man vs. the Ballerina by njoyslife
It wasn’t a fair fight, that Halloween night. He was a towering fifty-something; she was five, standing below him in her tutu. He offered nickels, not candy, for correct answers to three questions:
“Who was the first president?”
She took her nickel.
“Who’s president now?”
She took another.
“Who discovered America?”
“No!” She stomped her foot.
“Christopher Columbus!” he said, withholding her reward.
“He was a murderer and a thief!” Her tiny fingers flew between them as punctuation, “they were already here!”
She left him red-faced, three nickels clutched in her fist.
I Love Garlic by Anony Mole
“Drop your spoon!”
My grandma’s favorite spoon clacked to the floor, batter spraying her shoes.”
“What in God’s name are you making?”
I popped the tupperware lid and showed her.
“And what are you going to do with those?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Well, I expect the best.”
Arrayed like a fan I delivered them to the table.
Grandma took one bite and spit it out. “These are awful.” Picking up a handful she threw them toward my face.
I ducked and grinned mischievously as the squadron of Lady Fingers flew across the room and exploded against the wall.
Flying Fingers by Irene Waters
The girl giggled. The babysitter’s fingers acted the songs he sang, flying before landing suddenly on the bed beside the child. They tweaked her nose before flying upwards. Rosalind laughed, clapping her hands. Down came the fingers landing on the rabbit adorning her nightdress. They lingered, tracing the bunny’s outline on Rosalind’s chest before flying into the air to dance. Down they came touching her arms lightly before flying up to the sky again. Rosalind shrieked gleefully. Quickly the fingers pounced, on her tummy, walking lower and lower.
“John. We’re home.”
“Next time sweetie.” John promised Rosalind befor