• 08:00:22 am on June 5, 2012 | 48
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    Tuesday Tales 43!

    Challenge #43

     By entering, every contestant agrees to shamelessly promote and praise the winner on twitter.

    For all discussions about this challenge use hash tag #TuesdayTales

    Please give a shout out to this week’s Tuesdaytales judge:

    Miranda Kate


    A writer, slowly coming into focus and gaining clarity of mind….

            Netherlands (but from London)

    Our judge is challenging us this week with a awesome sauce word!

    Secret Word:


    to make by combining different ingredients

    to invent; make up; contrive




    Go ahead and check out the archive of all the tuesdaytales or escort you to your tuesdaytales needs HERE



  • Mark Ethridge 12:43 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    It was a rotten day. Her car wouldn’t start. She couldn’t get a ride to work. She’d had to walk. She’d been late. She’d been yelled at by customers from hell, always wanting things their way. He’d called her. Broke up with her. Then, she’d been fired. A strap on one of her shoes broke. Then the rain started. Mom had warned her not to rent on a street named Love. A horrid day. Walking home in the pouring rain. How could life concoct a day like this and drop it on her?

    100 words

    • Robin A 3:11 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

      Nicely done!

  • Nellie 1:23 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    Char gave a small flinch as the rain continued to come down on her. She had concocted this big plan. She was going to show Bud what she was now. She was big, she was going to swat at him like a fly. Only he didn’t show and the shoes she had hurt her feet. And the pretty red purse was ruined.

    She wanted to cry. She thought being human sized was fun but it wasn’t.

    A car pulled up, stopping beside her, the door opening. “Get on in, Char.” Sebastian gave her a crooked grin.

    “Puppy…” She sniffed.

    100 words
    (continued from MenageMonday & Motivational Monday tales)

  • Rakel' Sampson (@SampsonWriter) 1:36 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    He preferred the ones who liked red: lipstick, a dress, or a pair of shoes. There was one who drove a sporty red Ferrari. Oh, she was fast – but worth the pursuit. He sighed at the memory.
    His current lovely thing used the same bag every time they went out. Tonight would be the last time, of course; three weeks and no more. His carefully concocted plan worked like a charm.
    The rain was an unexpected bonus. No one would dare to follow. No last minute heroes to worry about.
    Hours later he raised his glass to #43. Delicious.

    (100 words)


  • superhappyjen 1:40 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    The vision first came after Noah was born. John left and Carolyn cried as she consoled her son. Then she saw the woman, tall blond and thin, with a smile that filled Carolyn with a warmth that saved her life. Now, as she struggles for sleep, Carolyn sees her vividly, barefoot in the rain, wearing a speckled dress, clutching a red purse and a pair of shoes. Carolyn notices the street sign: Love Street, a block away. She slips the snuggly over her nightgown and shoves Noah inside, covering his head with a blanket to protect him from the rain.

    100 words

  • angelicadawson 2:11 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    He smiled, looking at the results he had concocted. A touch of water to the air, a little swirl, and a lovely shower had begun pouring on his prey. She had been surprisingly unperturbed, taking off her shoes and walking in the puddles. She had reached Love Street. If he was going to capture her, it would have to be soon. The water made her dress mold to her body, revealing delicious curves, and he knew he couldn’t let her slip away. He needed this one. Another blast of air, a stinging cold. All he had to do was wait.
    100 words

  • Raiscara Avalon 2:16 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    She had concocted the spell, so she shouldn’t have been surprised at the results. Tom had been getting on her nerves for weeks, but she had promised her mother that she would give it a try. Nina just couldn’t take it anymore. Tom was too nice, though slightly overbearing. They had been at a party all night, Tom’s idea of course, and Nina had stayed with him. Tom was too drunk to drive her home. They fought in the morning and Tom broke up with her. Walking home in the rain Nina smiled slightly. It was good to be free.

    100 words

  • Robin A 2:18 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    She smiled as she splashed through puddles barefoot, shoes clutched in one hand and purse in the other, feeling happiness abound. It had been a wonderful day. She didn’t mind that she had to walk home. She didn’t mind that her car had broken down or that it was raining. She didn’t even mind that her new dress was clinging to her or that the blonde hair that she had spent almost forty-five minutes styling now lay limp on her scalp. She happened to glance at the street sign she was passing and began to laugh. Love Street! How perfect.

    100 words

    • Robin A 2:20 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

      Shoot…need to re-post the corrected one.

  • Robin A 2:23 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    She smiled as she splashed through puddles barefoot, shoes clutched in one hand and purse in the other, feeling happiness abound. Her concoction had worked. She didn’t mind that she had to walk home. She didn’t mind that her car had broken down or that it was raining. She didn’t even mind that her new dress was clinging to her or that the blonde hair that she had spent almost forty-five minutes styling now lay limp on her scalp. She happened to glance at up the street sign she was passing and began to laugh softly. Love Street! How perfect.

    100 words

    CORRECTED entry

  • Afsaneh K (@Afsaneh_Dreams) 2:48 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    A Promise

    She looked crazy, shoes and bag in hand as she paced the pavement.
    But it was a promise, and she always kept her promises. Even if they were made years ago.
    Her heart thudded lower and she squinted to see the approaching figure.
    A man, jacket roofing his head.
    There was familiarity in the way they looked at each other, a concoction of memories that stole them into the past again.
    “You’re early,” she smiled.
    “So are you,” he returned.
    I couldn’t wait, they thought.
    With the canopy over their heads they walked down the street in perfect past continued.

    100 words


  • Rebekah Postupak 3:29 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    She never knew what he’d concoct.

    Once he dropped her at the airport at midnight, telling her to meet him in Bali in three days (or else!).

    Another time he arranged a helicopter to plant her deep in the Himalayas, with instructions to meet him in Kathmandu within a week (or else!).

    Today he put her in a cocktail dress and impossibly high heels, handed her an empty red Valentino purse and told her to find him in Paris by Thursday (or else!).

    It was pouring, of course. The street sign read “Love.”

    She laughed out loud. Ahhh, leprechaun romance.

    100 words

  • A.D. Duling 4:05 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    She had concocted every explicit detail of the day, but the one ingredient she hadn’t planned for was the rain. Not just in drops it came, oh no, the heavens heaved upon her, soaking every pore. The every pore that had been meticulously fragranced, made up, shaved and styled. No, she hadn’t planned for this. She had to be there, it was just one block. Eva looked up. Henry stood there, on the corner, smiling at her. His eyes looked upon her as if there was no rain, no disruption to her plan. It seemed God was a better concocter.

    100 words

  • Cara Michaels 4:29 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    Only Florida could concoct such a moment. I approached the corner of Love Street in the pouring rain—a typical summer monsoon—and I smiled. What a picture I had to make in my sparking LBD, strappy heels dangling from one hand, fire engine red purse in the other. The warm downpour soaked me and cooled the scorching pavement beneath my feet. I could think of only one place I’d rather be. The memory of a perfect first kiss still tingled across my lips. I couldn’t wait to hear—my phone chirped with a new message, and my smile grew.

    100 words

  • Ryan Strohman 4:47 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    It had taken far too long for her to recover from her loss. He attempted reasoning with her, although she always rationalized her actions away. And she wasn’t concocting false memories. She had been an Olympic gymnast decades ago.

    When he found her in the storm, nimbly walking the median as if it were a balance beam, soaked through and in danger of being swallowed up by the flooding waters, he knew it was time she received professional care. Luckily her red handbag was easy enough to spot. The rescue crew saved her physically, although true panacea would take time.

    100 words

  • Wakefield Mahon 4:55 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    “I’m telling you Jimbo, I saw her splashing in the rain and I knew it was destination.”
    “You mean destiny? Larry, I swear you concoct the wildest stories.”
    “Don’t make fun of me; I knew it was love at first sight, even the street sign said so.”
    “Good Lord, Larry, you mean Love and First street, down by the bakery? That’s your crazy cousin Clara.”
    “Makes sense, the sign said ‘Fine Cousin’. She was prettiest girl I’d ever seen.”
    “You mean cuisine and stick with the food. Just because you’ve heard of kissing cousins doesn’t make it a good idea.”

    100 words

    • Rebekah Postupak 5:29 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

      hahahahahaha! just wrong.

  • Sam Webb 5:04 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    It had all seemed such a simple plan.

    Concoct a little bad weather, stand on Love Street near his office in that smashing little black dress and heels. (The red purse had been a brilliant last minute addition to the outfit.) Braston would see her on his way home and offer a ride. Love and marriage couldn’t help but follow.

    Simple, really. How could it go wrong?

    Nightshade, she’d used to much of it in the potion and whipped up a category 2 hurricane, killing her chances at love.

    89 words

  • Concoct a Tuesday Tale! | samwebb 5:11 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    […] join the fun of Tuesday Tales. You’ve got 100 words, a photo to inpsire you, and a word that must be included.  I’ve […]

  • S Jayanth 5:17 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    by S Jayanth

    I almost forgot about Tuesday tales, until a retweet popped up on my twitter feed.

    The picture prompt was so beautiful, photographically speaking, that, a concoction of emotions reigned over my heart, as an unknown, unwelcome numbness seeped in, capsizing my heart.

    Rain is one of my emotions, I believe, as when things in life were not very encouraging and when I felt lonely, I muse about rain and how it could wash away my woman’s troubles so that she could honestly put up a happy smile again. I wish for rain now. She would never know it was me.

    100 words

  • RR Kovar 5:30 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply


    She was the picture of joyous abandon, soaking wet, barefoot, smiling. She paused under the sign for Love Street. If she’d been anything but human, I would have thought the hesitation contrived for my benefit.

    I stepped out of the alley. Her smile faded. She clutched her red purse, thinking me a thief.

    “I couldn’t have concocted a better scenario,” I said.

    “Me neither.” Her smile returned as she opened her purse to reveal a rosary floating in rainwater.

    The storm hid my steaming flesh, covered ragged screams, allowed her time to dispel me from my host.

    Goddamn nuns anyway.

    • RR Kovar 5:31 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

      Ah heck. – 100 words @rrkovar

  • burntcore 5:49 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    Title: Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair

    The rain was pouring down in a torrent, but she didn’t care. Her hair was plastered to her head, her new dress was soaked, and her shoes were ruined, but she didn’t care. Nothing could remove the smile that was on her face.

    Sandra wished she could concoct a method to bottle how good she felt. She would be a millionaire. It would be the ultimate anti-depressant. A weight had been lifted from her shoulders when she finally disposed of the last of her ex-boyfriend’s junk. Without him to hold her back, she had no where to go but up.

    100 Words

    • Bob Mahone 12:49 am on June 6, 2012 | # | Reply

      I never read the postings before I write. Curiously, we both thought of bottling up what she was feeling. “Great minds” and all that!!!

  • Sheilagh Lee 6:17 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    The rain belted down in waves soaking me and my thin summer dress, but I felt like more alive than I had in years. I loved the rain. Slipping off my high heeled shoes, I kicked in the puddles in my bare feet like a child. I thought of the story I would concoct of how he had dumped me in the middle of nowhere. How they would find his body drained and dumped beside his car in a cornfield .I retracted my teeth and wiped the blood from my lips washing my hands in the rain .Life was good.
    100 words

  • Cindyluewho 6:56 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    100 word Tale:

    Bitter strings of agony struck chord to play a savage note deep and wide in her heart. The irony of all that had proceeded the worst day in Sara’s life was not lost on her, she just didn’t care anymore. How many times had she walked this road, passed this sign, and thought nothing of the day that she knew would come? An ardent concoction of shared experiences and mixed emotions had finally bubbled to the surface of her conscience. Sara laughed to herself in a deluge of cold rain and told herself over-and-over again, he was just a job.

    100 words

  • JonathonVolkmer 7:00 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    A Recipe For Rainy Days

    Umbrellas are overrated, I’ve always found;
    Why should they have all the fun?
    Don’t huddle in that dry shadow;
    Concoct your own defense instead.

    Turn your imagination on ahead of time –
    Passion is best when thoroughly pre-heated.
    Warm it slowly with the memory of a lover’s touch,
    Slowly add whispered promises,
    A secret smile,
    And butterfly wings.

    Stir it up by dancing barefoot in a puddle,
    Then open your mouth to taste the rain.
    Flavor to your taste with an exhilarated shout at the stormy sky,
    Or two. Serve drenched.

    Nothing keeps the rain off like love.

    99 Words

    • JonathonVolkmer 7:02 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

      This one, by the by, is dedicated to my wonderful fiancee.

  • siobhanmuir 7:30 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    Aislynn stepped from beneath the patio cover into the driving rain and closed her eyes, allowing the water to soak her dress to her skin. The rain washed away her worries and stresses for a moment, reminding her of the few times she’d walked along deserted roads in a downpour. Shoes in hand, soaked to the bone, looking for love.

    Many people came to Vegas looking for love or something like it. She’d concocted a plan to give them what they wanted.

    Eve’s Paradise, her BDSM club, catered to all forms of love.

    And kept her inner succubus fed.

    99 #WIP500 words

  • David A Ludwig 7:34 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    She requested a Romantic Comedy. The computer concocted a 1990s Earth environment and made her figure and hair way better than they’d ever been. The sign marking Love Street struck her as a little blatant, but overall it seemed a good start.

    But after ten minutes in the city she realized the computer neglected to simulate people to interact with. Then she saw the Love Street sign following her.

    Removing her heels she sprinted away from the city, only to hit a blizzard.

    With a giddy laugh she realized the sign had caught up with her.

    She loved that sign.

    100 words

  • Saajida Gora (@MADINA_SG) 7:45 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    Sprinkles of nature’s tears rolled down her subtle skin as she skipped down memory lane. She smiled as a jolt of memories flashed by, overwhelming her with joy. Bursting with emotion, she danced in the puddles wishing he was here with her as the joyfullness turned into sadness. She missed him but now he will never return. Concocting his image, she screamed a scream and called out his name. With aching hope in her heart, she wished he would hear her cry. Although what seems an eternity of pain and increased cognizance of her future which seemed bleak, she must move on.

    102 words

  • Wende G 8:30 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply


    Avery’s terrible day brightened upon returning home, when met by a mysterious red overnight bag at the door. Already packed.

    Attached note stated, “you know where… meet me.”

    What cockamamie plan had Jarred concocted?

    Face beaming, heart flipping, feet still hurting from scurrying around all morning, pain somehow hardly noticed. There was no time to reflect now.

    Satchel in hand.

    Darting back outside.

    Running barefoot toward their rendezvous point.

    It started raining.

    Did her admirer arrange this too? He knew how much his goddess loved cool drops falling on warm skin.

    She smiled, and waited.

    Word count = 100.
    Unique words = 100.

  • Bernice Midgett 8:40 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    As I head away from Love St., I am still wearing a smile.
    I am trying to concoct a good cover story when the rain starts; a downpour really!
    Off with the shoes, I can hardly walk in them anyway and now they’re wet.
    How will I explain my absence? In this dress, its obvious I’ve been working.
    Well, I could say I took a extended break and wasn’t there.
    Will they guess that I WAS there when they find his body?
    I have never bitten so close to home before, but it felt right.

    And his blood tasted wonderful!

    100 words

  • Charles W Jones (@ChuckWesJ) 9:04 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    She concocted many things throughout the years but this had to be the best; invisibility. She did not consider that it was not infallible. She couldn’t resist the shoes and bag; they were perfect. No one saw her slip them under her blouse. She waited for someone to open the door; it would look suspicious if she did it. She smiled as big as the sky when she stepped onto the street and to the corner as the rain began to plummet down. That’s when she noticed the flaw. The water falling from the sky made her visible.

    100 Words

  • Michael A. Kozlowski 10:19 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    The final argument; that one when you know it’s over for good. He kicked her out of the car and left her standing in the rain, ironically, on a street called “Love.” Funny how life concocts these things.
    She didn’t need to see the sign of the cross street to know its name. The “King” had sung about it; she knew what waited at the end. Sometimes you have to take your heels in your hand, hunch your shoulders against the weather and move on; checking in for what you hope will be a brief stay in that famous hotel.

    100 Words

  • Kat 10:26 pm on June 5, 2012 | # | Reply

    Why did I get myself into these situations? Why did I let myself concoct these romantic notions? I always end up in the rain without an umbrella, carrying my shoes. He was no different than the rest of them, tossing me cab fare, pushing me out the door, hoping we were done before anyone else could catch us.
    One day it would be different, wouldn’t it?
    I could get myself out of this pattern of mistakes, right?
    Nothing in the world said I had to keep making the same mistakes right?
    He would call, I would go, nothing would change.

    100 Words

  • Bob Mahone 12:43 am on June 6, 2012 | # | Reply

    It might be impossible to conceal this feeling. What could I concoct that would hide this emotion. Such satisfaction is rooted in reality, and no imagined tale would fool, even the most daft. I have witnessed, no, I have experienced love, okay lovemaking, in the way most have only dreamt. This will stay with me long after his attention has faded into oblivion. Yet choose the second or most miniscule moment of my future, and an uncloakable smile will immediately surface. If I could bottle it up, the sales would be phenomenal. But, as my secret, I’ll have joy forever.

    100 words.

  • Phoenix Lavan 12:48 am on June 6, 2012 | # | Reply

    I try to concoct a story when I see her. Coming down the street with shoes and purse in hand, she wears a magnificent smile. The rain distorts the world behind her as she strolls through the puddles, barely caring that she is soaked.

    I try to imagine that she is heralding a magic I’ve never felt before. Dream lane? Divine avenue? Love street? Yes, that’s it. She’s in love. That’s how she can ignore the world disappearing behind her. She knows that her soul is entwined with her significant other.

    I close my eyes, imagining, and the world disappears.

    100 words

  • Bob Mahone 1:11 am on June 6, 2012 | # | Reply

    Changed the ending to incorporate the picture prompt:

    It might be impossible to conceal this feeling. What could I concoct that would hide this emotion. Such satisfaction is rooted in reality, and no imagined tale would fool, even the most daft. I have witnessed, no, I have experienced love, okay lovemaking, in the way most have only dreamt. This will stay with me long after his attention has faded into oblivion. Yet choose the second or most miniscule moment of my future, and an uncloakable smile will immediately surface. Oh my god, I’m drenched, when did it start to rain? I just pray that this memory lasts forever.

    100 words.

  • Chris DeBoe 2:00 am on June 6, 2012 | # | Reply

    Alexandra’s head was bowed under the cold water dropping from rough grey clouds. She had arrived, wearing a dress made of the starry heavens, at a place called Love, only to find no one was waiting there for her. Disappointed, yes, but then she decided: “why not?” and splashed along the gutter in bare feet like a child. In her hand, elegant heels and an exuberant red purse proclaimed a sophistication that she had, at least for the moment, happily forgotten. What had happened, since the age when she had concocted any excuse to run and play in the rain?
    100 words

    • glitterlady 5:16 pm on June 6, 2012 | # | Reply

      do you have a twitter handle, my friend?

  • TuesdayTales 43 WINNER – June 5th 2012 « glitter word 4:03 pm on June 6, 2012 | # | Reply

    […] You can check out all the rest of the entries of Tuesdaytales week 43 HERE […]

  • Flash Fiction- It’s Like Taking a Pop Quiz | | Grub Street ReadsGrub Street Reads 5:24 pm on June 13, 2012 | # | Reply

    […] Monday Tuesday Tales Thursday Threads Friday Picture Show This entry was posted in For Writers. Bookmark the […]

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