Friday Fictioneers – Wilted

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!



You gave me a single red rose before you left for the special military operation.

‘I should be back within days,’ you said. ‘The rose won’t even have time to wilt.’

But that was months ago.

You brave men must feel as though you’re fighting all the world, when you see NATO’s weapons used against you by the Ukrainian Nazis. It must be terrifying; I don’t know how you can bear it.

I long for you to be home.

The rose will stand, wilted, in its vase, until I hold you in my arms again.

Inlinkz – click here to join the fun!

What Pegman Saw – Silence is golden

 “What Pegman saw” is a weekly challenge based on Google Streetview. Using the location provided, you must write a piece of flash fiction of no more than 150 words. You can read the rules here. You can find today’s location on this page,  from where you can also get the Inlinkz code. This week’s prompt is Kinshasa, capital of the Democratic Republic of the Congo

WPS - Silence is golden 180728

Béatrice Hotel,  Kinshasa, Democratic Republic of the Congo | © Noé Diakubama, Google Maps

Silence is golden

We lunched in the Beatrice Hotel. The tablecloth was heavy and gleaming white. Cream curtains with a delicate carmine print covered the window and made the dazzling midday glare bearable.

Priscilla, of the International Women’s Media Foundations African Great Lakes Reporting Fellowship, scowled at the gold rim of her plate.

“I hope you realise this is paid for by wealth from conflict minerals?” she said.

“So, tell me about it,” I responded.

“Where do I start? Miners dying of lung cancer? Their children with birth defects? And all so you can have a cheap smartphone.”

“Show me!”

She furtively passed across some photographs. “Come and see,” she urged.

As she left, she said “I’ll pick you up from here tomorrow, six a.m.?”

I nodded.

As soon as she left, I was on my phone.

I didn’t hear her scream as the car hit her, reversed over her, and roared away.