Friday Fictioneers – When Dad gets home

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 © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

When Dad gets home

I walked into Mom and Dad’s room without knocking. Dad choked as he swigged from a flask. When he’d caught his breath, he said, “Must dash. Don’t tell Mom, will you?” He winked at me, ran downstairs, and into the car.

I went to breakfast and sneaked myself an extra spoonful of sugar.

“No more sugar! said Mom.

As she left the room. I dug into the sugar bowl for some more – but it slipped and shattered on the floor. Horror!

Mom was back in a flash.

“You just wait till your Dad gets home,” she said.

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Friday Fictioneers – Boat for Sale

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!

smart

PHOTO PROMPT © C E AYR

Boat for sale

It’s an immaculate vessel. The fishing tackle in the bow looks brand-new. The engine fires at the first attempt. The paintwork is almost unmarked. It’s also pink. Hmm.

I ask the agent who is handling the sale how long it has been on the market. He shrugs.

“A few months, maybe.”

“Who owned it?” I ask, curious.

“A lady.”

“Did she ever use it?”

The agent shrugs again.

“She took it out every day, monsieur, sometimes more than once.”

“Did she catch many fish?”

He grins.

“Not fish, monsieur. She had a large, pink bed in the hold!”

Vive l’amour!

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Friday Fictioneers – I let them be

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

I let them be

The sun dropped towards the sea. Its glare dazzled me as I looked out from my apartment.

A couple of lads were lounging on the rocks below. Every so often they would crumple an empty can of cider and toss it onto my balcony; I heard a girl giggling.

I let them be.

It was dark when I heard shouting and went onto the balcony.

“What’s the matter?”

“My mates went for a swim and I can’t see them.”

The girl burst into tears.

I called the emergency services but it was no good. They didn’t even find the bodies.

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Friday Fictioneers – The Fan

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 © ROWENA CURTIN

The Fan

Wu Chang lounged against the lacquered cabinet, which was decorated with intricate marquetry and held the finest of linens and silks. He was a bold rascal, black hair held in serpents’ tails by silver clips. His armour gleamed.  

Zhang Chynna, attendant to the Empress, flicked her fan.

“Come no further,” she said.

“That wasn’t your song last night!”

Leering, he stepped forward a pace. “I wonder what your mistress would say about that?”

Zhang Chynna stared directly into his eyes. She gestured minutely with her fan.

Five arrows pierced Wu Chang. Regrettably, the sixth chipped the lacquer of the cabinet.

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Friday Fictioneers – Time out of mind

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

Time out of mind

I trace my finger across the rough tiles of the oven, moulded from the red mud of the Dnieper. My grandmother’s grandmother baked bread in this oven. Probably her grandmother did the same, but family tradition doesn’t extend so far, and there are no written records. We have lived in the house time out of mind.

I hang garlic in front of the oven to protect the house. It smells fresh and strong. I have scrubbed every room, sold every stick of furniture.

I wish I could stay, but I have no daughters and I am old; too old.

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Friday Fictioneers – New Life

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 © ROGER BULTOT

New Life

It was out the front of the Chinese restaurant in a pile of furniture. Sally stopped, just as the owner staggered out with more trash.

Sally pointed.

“Would it be okay for me to have that?”

“Take it. I hope you can put it to good use.”

“Oh, I shall! God bless you!”

For the first time in months Mr Chan’s spirits lifted.

It was tough lugging it home. It took an hour to clean it properly.

Sally was just finished when Colin came in.

He saw the baby chair immediately.

“Does this mean…?”

Sally’s radiant smile was answer enough.

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Friday Fictioneers – At first sight

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 © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

At first sight

Standing at the grave-side with my children, I remember a shop on Down Island.

The window held an intriguing mixture of objects; stained glass fairies; crystals; natural remedies; and some brightly patterned kaftans.

Inside, the place smelled euphoric. The man behind the counter was smiling and humming.

“I like those kaftans. Could I try one, please?”

He glanced at his watch.

“Heavens! It’s quarter past one. Sorry, we’re closed. Open again tomorrow morning. It’s Beltane, you see.”

My face fell.

“Come with me,” he suddenly said. “There’ll be some great vegetarian food!”

Forty years we were together.

Goodbye, my love.

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Friday Fictioneers – Film Noir

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!

FF - Film Noir 200902

PHOTO PROMPT © C E Ayr

Film noir

The helicopter’s engine stammered.

“Guys, there’s something wrong. We’re losing power.”

*       *       *

Meanwhile, in the film studio:

“Action!”

“Good morning, MacDonald…”

“Cut! For goodness sake beef up the accent, David. This is Glasgow, not Edinburgh.”

The famous star nodded acquiescence.

*       *       *

“I can’t find anything wrong, but the engine is misfiring.”

*       *       *

“Action!”

David spoke. What he spoke was unintelligible apart from the words MacDonald and Barlinnie.

“Cut! Alright, you’ve had your fun. Let’s shoot some decent footage, shall we?”

*       *       *

“We’re going down!”

With a roar like an avalanche the helicopter smashed through the roof of the film studio.

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Friday Fictioneers – Not an Option

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!

FF - Not an Option 200826

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Not an option

Pain flickers, then flares.

The sound of my pulse is loud and swift.

I can smell blood; my own blood.

My eyes open on an unfocused world.

Forty feet below me lie the shards of my mobile phone. Ten feet above me is the canyon’s rim. Unless I climb those ten feet, I have no hope of rescue.

I nearly faint as I take the first step on my shattered left ankle.

I clutch a rock. Failure is not an option.

I struggle out as the sun is setting. There is a Jeep. I wave – and it turns towards me.

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Friday Fictioneers – The Music of Time

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!

FF - The music of time

PHOTO PROMPT © TED STRUTZ

The Music of Time

Strangers walking past the house sometimes pause and listen. Sometimes they smile; sometimes they weep.

If you ask them why, they say, “Why, it’s the music, of course!”

I heard it myself once. It was soft and gentle; tranquil; joyful; resigned; a piano played with no virtuosity but great art.

I walked around the house, all the way around. The windows were shuttered. There were no lights despite the dull, grey evening.

The garden was untended, lawns merging with flower beds and ivy strangling the trees.

By the front gate, a shabby sign creaked.

“For Sale”, it said.

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