Friday Fictioneers – Short Growing Season

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 © JENNIFER PENDERGAST

Short Growing Season

Jo sighed as Ruth finished helping with her cystic fibrosis exercises.

“Mom, I’d so love a garden.”

Ruth snorted.

“Jo, this is Alaska.”

But Jo and her dad, Mike, looked through catalogues and ordered some bulbs. As soon as the bulbs arrived, they planted them in the front yard.

“The snow will protect them from freezing,” explained Mike.

It wasn’t long before the ground was covered with one hundred inches of snow, and when the late spring came, the snow melted and the bulbs bloomed gloriously.

Even with a short growing season you can enjoy life and colour – and beauty.

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Friday Fictioneers – The End

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

The End

It was bound to happen sooner or later.

The street below my apartment is choked with police cars, blue lights strobing, sirens howling, deafening and disorientating me.

I shall not take the coward’s way out; I shall die as I have always lived, with zest. I hope, though, that someone will find these jottings I have made. I would like to feel that my actions might be understood if not condoned. Perhaps this text will be a mirror for my intentions.

In a few minutes I shall exit onto the roof and run along the terrace.

My narrative will end.

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Friday Fictioneers – A Warm Deed

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!

A special thank you to Na’ama for the photo and Rochelle for choosing it. It’s a marvellous prompt!

PHOTO PROMPT © NA’AMA YEHUDA

A warm deed

Jack strode beside the security fence, kicking up snow. He wasn’t frightened, but he slowed when he saw a figure on the far side.

The boy was as tall as Jack, but skinny and shivering.

“You look freezing.”

The boy nodded.

“I have no coat.”

“Not even at home?”

“No.”

Jack stripped off his new duffel-coat and threw it up the fence. It didn’t even reach halfway. He tried again. No better.

“I know,” he said, and climbed a tree almost overhanging the fence. He threw, and the coat sailed over the fence.

The boy put it on, and smiled.

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Friday Fictioneers – Steel Town

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 © J HARDY CARROLL

Steel Town

When I was a kid, there were eight taverns in our town – nine, if you counted the Temperance. There’s only one now, and that’s closing soon – put out of business by the discount liquor store.

The houses used to be neat, lawns and white-painted picket fences. Now, every third house has broken windows. You can tell someone’s doing well if they have a working pick-up on the driveway; doesn’t matter if it’s a rust-bucket, just as long as it runs.

Bethlehem Steel closed and it knocked the heart out of the town.

I’m glad I got out when I did.

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Friday Fictioneers – Life and Death

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 © Sandra Crook

Life and Death

I have walked many days through the primeval forest to reach this tree. Red bark, dark leaves, it stretches into the sky, a monarch. As I lay my hand along that red bark, I feel the sharp rebuke of the tree:

Pay some respect.

I step away and make namaste; I honour the spirit within.

I hear the life of the forest, its growing and its dying; I feel the shelter it gives to small creatures and to large; I share their reverence for the trees. The forest is alive, conscious.

In the distance, a chainsaw snarls.

InLinkz – click here to join the fun!

Friday Fictioneers – Legitimate cause for pride

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 © RUSSELL GAYER

Legitimate Cause for Pride

“Honey, why are we stopping?”

“That!” said Jack, pointing.

There, on the driveway of an abandoned clapboard house, mouldered a pickup with an extended passenger section.

“Sure. It’s a truck. Can we please get going? We told Mary we’d be with her by 4 o’clock.”

“I just want a quick look. No more than ten minutes.”

Helen pouted.

“Honey, it’s a truck and it’s covered in mildew. And look – there’s ivy coiling round the wheels!”

“Ah, it’s not just any truck, it’s a Vandura. Back in ’62 I worked in Chevrolet’s design department. See that door mirror? I designed that!”

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Friday Fictioneers – The end of an era?

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 © BRENDA COX

The end of an era?

The café lay under a mighty plane tree in a marble-paved square. It was always busy, from dawn until well after midnight.

Giorgios gazed over the café he’d started. He thought of his sons and grandsons working the tables. He thought of his unmarried daughter Katerina, so shrewd. His other daughters were happily married with children. Giorgios smiled briefly.

His heart laboured as he wondered to whom he should leave the business.

That night, lightning felled the plane tree. The deafening crash woke Giorgios. His chest tightened until he couldn’t breathe. Hastily he scrawled, “The café is Katerina’s.”

And died.

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Note – I’m planning to write a longer version of this story and post it on Sunday or Monday. Just sayin’!

Friday Fictioneers – 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 © ALICIA JAMTAAS

Home

“Hello, Dad.”

Who’s speaking? Who’s this man so tall and strong, crowding my room? I don’t like him. 

“Dad, it’s Colin.”

I stare at him.

“My son was called Colin. Do you know him?” Somehow the words come out jumbled.

Why am I here? Am I in prison? I want to be home. I want to be home in my cabin, nothing but trees for miles.

I knew the forest. I knew the trees, from sapling to maturity. In summer the dry ground was springy; in winter, the mud clamped my boots.

“Dad!”

Who’s speaking? I don’t like him.

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Friday Fictioneers – Dare!

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 © ALICIA JAMTAAS

Dare!

Tom and James crept closer to the shack in the woods.

“The door’s shut.”

“Bet it’s not locked.”

“Try it!”

“Somebody might be inside.”

“Dare you!”

Tom swallowed. He looked back down the path.

“Chicken!” jeered James.

Hesitant, Tom grasped the door handle and tugged. The door scraped against the ground.

“Coo! Bet we’re the first people in years been inside,” he said.

There was a cupboard, a table, a ratty old chair.

“Look, there’s a drawer in the table,” exclaimed James. Excitedly, he yanked it open. Heavy, metallic, deadly, the revolver gleamed in the drawer.

Outside, footsteps crunched.

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Friday Fictioneers – Solar Storm

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

Solar Storm

Demetrios could have wept at the sight of Miseon, shaking with fatigue after her second six-hour spacewalk in twenty-four hours. Sixty was too old for such brutal labour, but everyone on Space Station L1 was working double shifts. Extra protection against radiation was essential.

All pregnant women had been flown to the Lunar Base; the rest of the colonists would have to endure the biggest solar storm ever.

Demetrios held Miseon gently.

“We’ve done all we can,” he murmured.

Miseon pushed him. “Go in the command area. It’s safer. It’s your duty!”

“No. My place is with you,” he said.

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