Friday Fictioneers – Spring

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

Spring

In this place, this tranquil place, this sun-warmed niche of brilliant colour and delicate fragrance, I can start to forget his coldness, his fault-finding, his vicious silences.

I can believe once again that a man might smile at me for pleasure, with laughter and delight; that he might hold me with tenderness. I can hope, perhaps, for truthfulness and openness – even, dare I wonder? – for love.

In this place, this tranquil place, this place of gentle birdsong and sweet, moist earth, I feel the dry seed of my spirit swell and quicken to meet the spring.  

Inlinkz – click here to join the fun

Friday Fictioneers – Love’s Fragrance

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 (the blue frog) 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

Love’s fragrance

“Those are pretty flowers, Mommy!” Helen leaned across the table and stroked one of the petals very gently.

“Daddy gave them to me,” smiled Imogen. “Today is a special day – we’ve been married for ten years! They’re made of glass and metal, and the shiny yellow is real gold.”

“Do they smell nice?” asked Helen, doubtfully, leaning close to them and wrinkling her nose.

“I’m afraid not, honey, but they’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

While Imogen busied herself preparing supper, Helen ‘borrowed’ her mommy’s favourite perfume.

“Why, these roses smell just like you, darling!” exclaimed Mark when he returned that evening.