Friday Fictioneers – The Hero

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!

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PHOTO PROMPT submitted by Courtney Wright. © Photographer prefers to remain anonymous

The Hero

What sort of man wears boots with soles and uppers held together by duct tape?

I tell you, such a man once saved my life.

Warm sunshine had tempted me into the sea, but suddenly, chilled, I realised I was caught in a rip current. I fought desperately, but I was nearly spent.

A calm voice spoke.

“Stop struggling and turn over.”

I obeyed, and felt strong hands support me. My rescuer swam parallel to the beach, then turned to land. Others joined us, and soon we were safe.

I’ll tell you what sort of man that is. A hero.

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Friday Fictioneers – The girl in the night club

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

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PHOTO PROMPT ©Jill Wisoff

The girl in the nightclub

The four-piece combo was playing fit to bust, and a girl with black shingled hair was dancing the Charleston. Her cheeks were pink with excitement, her bee-sting lips cherry-red, and her blue eyes flashed as she moved. Her gold dress flickered in the spotlight.

‘Why not?’ I thought, and joined her on the dance-floor.

A heavy hand fell on my shoulder. I turned, ready to move fast. I looked up – and up – and my gaze had still only reached his Adam’s apple. The deepest bass I’ve ever heard rumbled from his seventy inch chest.

“Dance respectfully, bud. That’s my daughter.”

Friday Fictioneers – Conspiracy

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. This week, I just couldn’t resist having another go!

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PHOTO PROMPT © Karen Rawson

Conspiracy

“Dang this dang dark!”

Despite his torch Jed had stumbled on the flaky, rotten step. He paused, listening. Had his expletives been heard by the occupants of the cabin?

All was still. No light showed but he knew they were in there, waiting.

He rapped four times, da-da-da-dum, and heard the wooden beam lifted, the door creak open.

“Quickly, inside before you’re seen!”

The door was slammed behind him, and the blackout blanket replaced. His three co-conspirators looked stern. He could smell the bourbon on their breath.

They sat down around a small table.

“Texas holdem suit you, Reverend?”

Friday Fictioneers – The Rapist

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!

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PHOTO PROMPT © Karen Rawson

The Rapist

Was he still pursuing her?

Jodie’s legs burned with fatigue and there was a knot of cold fire in her chest. She couldn’t run much further. She splashed through standing water and struggled up rotten wooden steps that flaked under her feet.

The climb all but finished her. She dashed the sweat from her eyes, looking around desperately for a place to hide. A fragment of wall fringed the path. She slipped behind it, willing silence on her gasping breaths, and drew her hunting knife.

There was a heavy thud of footsteps.

Alright.

She would end this the messy way.

Friday Fictioneers – The First 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 (the blue frog) on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

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PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields

The First Time

Gerald marvelled at how strong Peter’s legs were, how supple, how beautiful, as he followed him up the steep path.

At the top, he gazed over the plain and exclaimed, “Great view!”

“Even better wi’ a beer. Get t’ bottles out, lad.”

Gerald smiled at him. Trust Peter to be thinking of beer!

They sat down, side by side, almost touching, and opened the bottles. Yeasty bubbles tickled Gerald’s nose as he drank. The warm sun caressed his skin.

His hand crept onto Peter’s. Peter looked earnestly at him. Suddenly, their hearts sang.

For the first time, they kissed.

Friday Fictioneers – City 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 (the blue frog) on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

Last week I was very busy, and I’m afraid I didn’t manage to read all the stories. If I missed yours, I’m sorry – I shall try to do better this week!

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PHOTO PROMPT © Yarnspinnerr

City Life

Makshirani disembarked from the train. Crowds jostled. The city was very different from home. What would her new life be like?

A young man approached.

“Namaste! I’m Dayasara. Aunt Abhilasha sent me to collect you.”

“Namaste.” Makshirani made the gesture of pranamasana.

“Come. I have a moped.”

Makshirani clung on as Dayasara zigzagged between the heavy traffic. The streets grew narrower, stinking and full of flies.

Dayasara stopped by a dilapidated colonial residence.

“You’re sharing with four girls; I’ll introduce you. Can we meet when you’ve settled in?”

Makshirani looked down modestly.

“Only if Aunt says I may,” she murmured.

Friday Fictioneers – Quartet

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!

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PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Quartet

Six years after their last performance, the Bedrich Quartet was once again to perform.

Charlie strode through the train station, hugging his battered fiddle case with its priceless contents.

“Hang on,” said Graham, the viola player, to second violinist Jeremy, who was juggling their car into a parking space. He swallowed a beta-blocker.

Yvonne, resplendent in silk, swept up in a limousine.

Three of them met in the Green Room.

“Where the hell is Charlie?” demanded Yvonne.

In he tumbled, lip split, and two black eyes.

“Sorry! Been mugged,” he gasped. “But the instrument’s fine. The concert can go ahead!”