Posts Tagged ‘cheater’

The Thief

Posted: September 16, 2017 in What Pegman Saw
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Today What Pegman Saw took us to St. Petersburg, Russia. After strolling the streets I found the church of Our Savior on Spilled Blood – per our fearless leader’s suggestion. The exterior reminded me of a woman dressed in her finest clothes. Here is her story in 150-words.


The mirror reflects:
1) dress made of midnight blue silk
2) six gold chains; three turquoise rings
3) shoes made of the softest leather
4) elaborate curls the color of an autumn sunset
5) peach-pink cheeks; garnet-colored eyes
Oksana is ready

Oksana sees:
1) a liar – not her
2) a cheat – not her either
3) a thief – this almost applies

What Evgeny reads in the Sovetsky Sakhalin newspaper dated October 23rd, 1925:
Oksana Petrov found floating in Grboyedov Canal at 3:00 am this morning, had this note along with five heavy stones in the pocket of her ermine cape.

None can live inside the shadow of a man who serves words meant to cover the truth. Neither can they live wondering who has been cheated so that same man may be surrounded by wealth beyond all imagining. To this man, I say, “I am taking my life back.” You will consider it stealing. On the contrary – you never owned me.

False Handicap

Posted: December 19, 2016 in What Pegman Saw
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What Pegman Saw is a new Flash Fiction challenge utilizing Google Maps by K Rawson. The assignment is to write a story –150 words or less– based upon the location provided. Use the photo or follow the Google Maps link and take your own street view tour. My story weighs in at 149 words.


It took Dexter four months to get one of them blue plastic cards declaring him handicapped.
Dang! Wasn’t one leg shorter than the t’ other?
Wasn’t he missin’ a hand?
Those fellows down at the DMV were dumber than clots of mud.
That’s what his mama had always said.
And his daddy.
Now, Dexter repeated the words often as he could while holding
up his end of the bar and ogling Sally Anne’s toosh.
At closing time he’d gimp to his battered VW
smelling of beer, cigarettes, and mold
and climb in. Back in his bedroom Dexter removed his shoes,
one with a sole much thicker than the other, and the hook that served
as a hand. He’d stand and stretch his legs, both the same length
just as they were the day he was born
and wiggle all ten fingers.
“Yep,” he’d say, “dumber than clots of mud.”