Knights of Micro Fiction is a bloghop hosted by Kathy (Imagine Today) and Jessica (Write. Skate. Dream) on the 15th of every month. They came up with it as a way to meet new friends, help build the blogosphere and (hopefully) spark some creativity. So, here's the prompt:
In 300 words or less write a scene where the main character realizes he/she is thankful for something. Include the words "turkey" and "Mayflower" (this could be May flowers too or other creative variations).
I squinted into the bright glare of the sun, the weather sending comfortable warmth all over me after the torrential cold rain of the South. Adjusting my black non-shiny leather jacket, cross checking all papers and ID, I flagged down a cab from right out of the airport.
“Where to, ma’am?” the cabbie questioned through his interior rear-view mirror.
“Minion Street, the Blake Fair entrance”
“Straight away? No hotel?”
Quite hospitable, these Northerners. “No. Straight away.”
An hour to pass. I used the time to pore over the papers the big baboon had stupidly handed over. Best (or worst?) thing about keeping important documents with partners-in-crime who’re natural boasters, they give the secret away soon. Don’t need much effort. A bit of smart talk would do. There was just one nagging thought, a code he didn’t reveal, without which we might just lose the game. It was 18 hours to Monday.
My phone beeped a call from base. Frank.
“Hey. A half hour to target? You remember what he described?”
I couldn’t help smiling, despite the nerves. He’s as smart as one could get. I remembered the baboon talking through a mouthful of turkey leg, “You gotta find ‘im at the fair. Big as a buck, wavy black hair, wheat-skin Asian.”
“Yes” I breathed into the receiver. “But there could be anyone who fits the description.”
Frank smiled. I knew it, because of the pause and his breathing.
“Tell me Frank, what is it?”
“I got the code.”
A gasp escaped me. “What!”
It filled me with happiness. Mostly as I could connect. It was going to be easy. Look for a big guy with a mayflower, easy to spot. Mayflowers don’t grow up here. I’ll find him, show the papers, police ID, my name: Mayflower. Pretty.
That was really fun! If you're interested in participating, follow the links to the hosts' blogs and join in the hop! :)