Friday Fictioneers – Choices

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

PHOTO PROMPT © DALE ROGERSON

Choices

‘Mom! I’ve finished my homework! Now can I go see the artist?’

‘Tidy your bedroom first…’

It was too late; Dale was gone.

Day by day Dale had watched as the artist conjured beauty from derelict buildings. Where there had been blank walls covered in flaky paint, green and rust, there was now a forest glade in which a log cabin sat, serene in the sunlight. Pink clouds lent a glow of enchantment to the scene.

The artist beckoned.

‘Ya wanna try? I’ll show ya how…’

Crimson with excitement and delight, Dale nodded her head vigorously.

‘Yeah! Oh, yeah!’

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Friday Fictioneers – Nothing Pink

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

PHOTO PROMPT (C) NA’AMA YEHUDA

Nothing pink

It was beautiful.

I wanted it.

It was a toy washing machine, pink and shiny.

I pointed it out to Mom, showing her the battery powered motor that turned the drum, and the laundry baskets for your dolls’ clothes.

‘It would be a lovely Christmas present,’ I hinted.

‘Do you think Catherine would like it?’

I shrugged, ‘I expect so. I meant for…’

‘Oh, look at this, John!’ said Mom, brightly. ‘It’s a proper telescope. You could see the moon and planets and…all sorts of things.’

‘Fascinating,’ I sighed.

Nothing pink for me on Christmas morning.

Just a bloody telescope.

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Friday Fictioneers – Too Far

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

PHOTO PROMPT (C) FLEUR LIND

Too far

“I’m setting off now, Jen. Be with you about ten.”

“I wish you’d stay there overnight, Mike.”

“It’s only three hundred miles, love”

“Yes, but you drove down this morning.”

“I’ll be okay.”

Half an hour later and I’m on the Expressway, cruise control set to seventy; no point in collecting a speeding ticket. The setting sun in my rear view mirror is dazzling.  

I yawn.

The traffic isn’t heavy and I go steadily.

Into the last fifty miles now, on a single carriageway. Soon be home with Jenny!

Headlights dazzle me. What the heck? That lorry’s on the wrong…

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Friday Fictioneers – Beauty

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

PHOTO PROMPT (C) ROGER BULTOT

Beauty

Gerald scavenged breakfast, leaving his sleeping bag at the bottom of the steps. Nobody touched it. Did they pity Gerald? More likely it was the human impulse to avoid contamination.

The café was worth a try, provided he went round the back where the customers couldn’t see him. Today was a good day; he was given a bacon roll with his coffee. Mumbling thanks, he shuffled off.

Down the street between trash cans, an old man coughed until his eyes were bloodshot. Gerald sat down and handed him half the bacon roll.

There’s always someone worse off you can help.

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Friday Fictioneers – A hole in the ground

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

PHOTO PROMPT (C) ROCHELLE WISOFF-FIELDS

A hole in the ground

‘Take cover! Take cover!’ yelled the young man as he rushed between the market-stalls.

Yasmeen sighed. Her stall had only a few basic goods, which she had to sell to feed her children.

‘Ali. Ali!’ she called. Her daughter, Layla tugged at her skirt and pointed. Ali was fifty metres away, playing football. Even as Yasmeen watched, her neighbour emerged, grabbed her own son and Ali, and dragged them into the comparative safety of her house.

Yasmeen scooped up Layla and ran indoors, terrified by the scream of the low flying jet.

One second later, its bomb obliterated the marketplace.

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Friday Fictioneers – Anything’s possible

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

PHOTO PROMPT (C) DALE ROGERSON

Anything’s possible

“Why did you bring that wretched ball along?” grumbled Gerald. “I want to walk hand-in-hand.”

Grinning, Peter kicked the football away. It soared, then plummeted into the half-frozen creek.

Gerald clicked his tongue but said nothing. After all, Peter was holding his hand now.

“I’ll go fetch it,” said Peter.

“You’re barmy! Look at the ice!”

But Peter was already out of his sneakers.

One step, two steps, three steps, pick up the ball and back to shore.

“See? Anything’s possible.”

He kissed Gerald hard on the mouth.

“Now, let’s go tell our families that we’re a couple, huh?

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Friday Fictioneers – Betrayal

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

PHOTO PROMPT (C) DAVID STEWART

BETRAYAL

I stand in the torrential rain, half-concealed by a bush, looking into the hotel. The sky weeps passionate tears, blurring my vision.

Dan sits at the bar; he’s waiting for that girl, I know he is.

And there she is. Sleek hair, perfect smile – and those heels must be four inches!

My hair dangles in rats’ tails, trickling water down my neck.

Dan kisses the girl lightly on the lips, and draws her across to reception.

Right. I’m going to stop this. I square my shoulders and march in. Dan’s hangdog expression tells me all I need to know.

Friday Fictioneers – Wilderness of Passion

I’m sorry to have been more or less missing from Friday Fictioneers. I’m especially sorry for those who kindly read and commented on my story and received no response. Sadly, this was because my mum died at the end of July. The combination of grief and the need to deal with the funeral etc rather pushed out my regular activities. I’m afraid this may continue for a while, but for this week, at least, I’ve written a story, and here it is.

Many thanks, Rochelle, for hosting this challenge. To any newbies, the challenge is to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

PHOTO PROMPT (C) Trish Nankeville

Wilderness of passion

It was a strange place to meet a tiger; Acton High Street is not conducive to tigerish behaviour. I still had most of my lunchbreak, so I followed him into a bar.

He patted the seat next to him. My breath came fast. My heart pounded. How beautiful he was, how passionate; how dangerous.

I went with him to a Premier Inn, my body savannah-warm in his arms. I cried out in triumph.

Finished, he tossed me the room key. ‘I’ve settled the account,’ he said – and left.

My wilderness of passion was, for him, merely a commonplace suburban infidelity.

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Friday Fictioneers – Prince Charming

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

PHOTO PROMPT (C) SANDRA CROOK

Prince Charming

Dillon saw Sally blink with surprise. Her mouth twitched.

‘You’re asking me out?’ she said.

Hot-cheeked, Dillon looked at the ground. ‘If you like,’ he muttered.

Sally laughed. ‘I’d rather date a frog,’ she said, and skipped away.

Desire, despair, mortification, Dillon’s feelings twisted him. He could hardly see; but he could hear.

They were laughing. The girls were laughing. The girls were laughing at him. Anger oozed like crimson blood from the cut of a razor.

‘But I love her,’ he thought. ‘I can’t hurt her.’

He slunk home to his bedroom – and wept.

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Friday Fictioneers – Second-hand romance

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

PHOTO PROMPT (c) JOHN NIXON

Second-hand romance

“I want a bride.”

“Do you mean the dress in the window? I’m afraid it wouldn’t fit you – it’s only a size 10.”

“I don’t want a dress, I want a bride.”

The shop-girl giggled. “Is that a proposal?”

“Of course not; I mean a mail-order bride, a Filipina say. I’ve got plenty of cash, and I’m generous. I’d be a great match.”

“Perhaps Mum could help you.”

The shop-girl led him into a back room, where an old woman held a folder of photographs.

“These are the women currently on our books,” she said. “But remember – we’re a second-hand shop.”

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