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!

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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!

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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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Friday Fictioneers – One Tide

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!

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PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

One Tide

Linda and Mark watched the waves pounding the sea-wall, hurling shingle across the promenade.

“I must go back,” sighed Linda.

Charlie, lying in his sick-bed, coughed. For a moment he was lucid. Linda could do better than Mark, he thought. Then the surging ocean carried him back sixty years to his first voyage in a three-master.

Linda looked at Charlie’s chest. Still breathing.

The sound of the surf faded. Charlie’s breathing became shallow.

Linda phoned Mark.

“I think he’s going. Will you come round?”

The couple sat hand in hand as Charlie’s tide ebbed.

“We can marry now,” said Linda.

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Friday Fictioneers – Happy Birthday

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!

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PHOTO PROMPT © RONDA DEL BOCCIO

Happy Birthday

“What are we going to give Mum for her birthday?” asked Sandra.

James shrugged.

“A brooch?”

“What good is that? She never wears a jacket.”

“I dunno. Helen’s your mum not mine.”

“We’ve got to think of something special. It’s her seventieth after all.”

“A track day in a supercar?” James ducked. “No! Only joking!”

By eight o’clock on her birthday Helen was looking down at Buckfast Abbey, all sharp-angled shadows in the sunshine. The hot air balloon carrying her drifted serenely over the Devon countryside. She sipped vintage champagne whose bubbles prickled her nose.

“What a birthday!” she murmured.

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Friday Fictioneers – Two Hander

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!

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PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Two Hander

“Fancy mixing up Pinter and Pirandello,” sneered Lucas.

Susan cringed.

“Look! Even the chip shop knows which of us is the intellectual!” Lucas flaunted the Times wrapping his fish dinner. Susan fumbled her Daily Mirror package, spilling chips onto the pavement. “Oh, I’m sorry. How stupid of me,” she wailed.

“An excellent newspaper the Times, with the good taste to employ me to supply them with chess puzzles!”

Susan pointed to Lucas’s parcel. “That’s the paper from March 21st, isn’t it? Wasn’t that the issue where you made a mistake and they had to print a correction?”

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Friday Fictioneers – Taboo

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!

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PHOTO PROMPT © DAVID STEWART

Taboo

Stephanie sat outside the cafe, enjoying the evening and yet grieving for what had been lost during lockdown – spontaneous embraces, laughter for no reason other than joie de vivre.

She saw Michel, and waved. It was such a shame that lockdown came just as they were getting to know each other. He smiled, walked across, and sat down.

“Aren’t we supposed…?”

“You don’t mind…?”

They spoke simultaneously, and smiled.

“Sorry…”

“I beg your…”

This time they laughed.

“Would you have dinner with me?” asked Michel, taking Stephanie’s hand.

Her smile said yes. Her breath came fast at his forbidden touch.

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