Hello, mes amies!
It is time to do something fun. We’re setting up a writing competition.
Rules:
Due by May 4th
To be posted in the comment section of this message
No more than 1500 words
Based on this picture:
Photo Credit: Wojciech Marciniak
Winner will receive the Quarantine Quill May 2020 Award. *winks* Sent to your snail mail address.
BitterSuites 
“This ‘il get ’em, those nasty buggers!” Ian screamed as he ran across the field behind our house. The dusk was thick with billowing fog rolling in off the lake. “You’re going to hurt yourself, you dumbass!” I shouted after him as he disappeared only to momentarily reappear, now with the bug bombs he had been wildly spraying into the night air aflame and sparkling brightly. “Did you light those? What is wrong with you?” I started on him, only to be interrupted by a great flash and explosion, followed by a light sprinkling of the warm, sticky bits of what was left of my now former husband. Those damn mosquitoes had won this round….
LOL
Mark ran through the night, flames and smoke erupting from his thumbs behind him. Right after the genie had granted his wish to have a “hella cool explosive thumbs up”, he’d tried it out with a cool, two-handed gesture to Elaine. Her amusement quickly turned to fear as her hair was set on fire by the burning thumbs and Mark found himself unable to put them out. The genie appeared at his side as he ran.
“I could put those out for you with another wish, you know,” the genie smirked. Mark responded by continuing to scream and shoving his flame geysers into the genie’s eyes, causing the being to recoil in pain and disappear.
Mark ran from his folly for the rest of his life. The events of that night persisted as local legends even 50 years later as headlines “Local Cryptid: Burning Man” occasionally dotted certain corners of the internet.
*snickers*