Once more into the bleach, as we fire off this week’s writing prompt…
Yes, that’s me. Circa 1968.
Yes, that’s my oldest sister, the one who would eventually accuse me of hurling her body into a cactus in about six years or so. (Story link here.)
I believe we are in the backyard of our house on Sixth Street in Tulsa, the dwelling from which I made my infamous nocturnal quest for Emancipation. (Story link here.)
Your mission, should you accept: What am I thinking in this photo? What is my sister thinking? What am I clutching/hiding in the grass? And, most importantly, where are my trademark sunglasses? Obviously, malfeasance was afoot, and I need your help getting to the bottom of this.
Trivia: “Once more into the bleach” is a twist on Shakespeare’s Henry V quote “once more unto the breach”. The twist was used as the title of a Blondie/Debby Harry remix album in 1988, which I found rather clever, and now I’m stealing it, as a tribute to the whiteout quality of this ancient photo, which I had to scan a hundred times to get any clarity. Oh, the sacrifices we make for our art…
Categories: Flash Fiction