Fractured Friday: Little Bo Peep

Fractured Friday: Little Bo Peep
October 30, 2015 2 Comments Friday Fiction, Writing Prompts Stephanie Ayers

A couple of summers ago, I had the great fun of collaborating with other writers to produce “Flip Flop Fiction.” Using the Mad Hatter and his hat as the mode of time travel, characters from one story would make an appearance in another story and change it. We had wonderful fun twisting the fairy tales.

When we were coming up with ideas for the writing site, Fractured Fiction came to mind. A.L. Mabry suggested we do it with nursery rhymes instead, so, voila! Our Write Side proudly presents Fractured Fridays: fractured flash fiction, putting new spins on the nursery rhymes we all know and love.

The rules are simple:

  1. Read the nursery rhyme.
  2. Read the challenge.
  3. Write a story 700 words or less answering the challenge.
  4. Share the url to your story in the comments OR, if you don’t have your own blog, share your story in the comments. Either way, it will be seen.
  5. Please keep your stories pg-13 or under since this is a public page. Add trigger warnings where necessary. Keep vulgarity to a minimum.
  6. Have FUN!

Now, are you ready for the prompt?

Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep,
And can’t tell where to find them;
Leave them alone, and they’ll come home,
Bringing their tails behind them.
Little Bo-Peep fell fast asleep,
And dreamt she heard them bleating;
But when she awoke, she found it a joke,
For they were still all fleeting.


Your challenge this week:

Since it’s Halloween, let’s move to the dark side. This week, let’s talk about a new shepherd making off with her sheep. He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

You have until Thursday, November 5, 11:59 pm to find the sheep. Do you dare?

Stephanie Ayers A published author with a knack for twisted tales, Stephanie Ayers is the Executive Creative Director of OWS Ink, LLC, a community for writers and readers alike. She loves a good thriller, fairies, things that go bump in the night, and sappy stories. When she is not writing, she can be found in Creative Cloud designing book covers and promotional graphics for authors.
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  1. 2 Comments


    Little Bo-Peep

    Bo-Peep opened one eye before rolling off her cot onto the floor. Staggering to the coffee table she mixed up a Bloody Mary and inhaled it. Feeling better she opened the other eye; at least she could look out her front window without her eyes feeling like two rough balls bouncing around her head. She looked again, something is not quite right. Scratching her head she concentrated on the base of the apple tree, then it dawned on her. The sheep are gone. The gate, it’s open, dang it, where did they go?
    Bo pulled on rubber sloggins and a knitted cap – Seahawks emblem to the left side – and headed for the apple tree to pick up their tracks, because that’s the only way she will be able to find them. Harlow, she just hired him last week to take care of her 200 sheep – was not around. About then Bo seen the boot prints – sheep dip made it easy to see they were made by soneone wearing a size 12 QVJ rubber boot, all you had to do was read the QVJ backwards. Course she knew who was after those animals, her trusty new hire, Harlow, she bought those boots for him last Monday.
    Well, Bo figured, Harlow will find the sheep and bring them home. During a training session Bo had taught Harlow how to keep the sheep together using a nylon rope -number 2 size- to tie their tails together, sort of like a train. Course you have to give them enough slack or they will end up in a big circle – tails inside – making a big racket.
    Bo grinned, but not to much; that head is sitll hurting, darn gin anyway. The cot called her.
    Eight hours later she came full awake after dreaming all the sheep were right there in the house with her. They were outside, she knew that much, though one look out the window told her otherwise. Dark blue clouds followed her to Harlow’s shack, where she found a note pinned on the door:
    Dear Miss Peep, No need to look for me, or your sheep. Oh yea, thanks for the truck, you were still sleeping when I came back for it. I suppose your eye’s were hurting; that’s because the gin you drank last night had some stuff added to it. Really enjoyed the evening with you. Can’t figure out why you moved from the bed to the cot though.
    The sheep are headed for the processing plant. Me. well I have a fat wallet – thanks again – with a few thousand bucks inside..

    1. 2 Comments

      Stephanie Ayers

      Ah!! What a fabulous twist!! Thanks for playing, Grandpaw!


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