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Friday Fictioneers – Rob’s Chair

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!

Rob’s chair

‘I shan’t be needing that again,’ said Rob, as we watched the first snow cover his garden chair on the terrace. I gave his arm a squeeze; there was nothing I could say.

He died mid-winter, and I got on with life, but even when spring came I left the chair where it was. It was Rob’s chair, to help me remember him, his laugh, his joie de vivre.

Eventually, I met someone else I could love and winter gave place to spring. We’re quietly happy together.

I haven’t told him about Rob’s chair – but I think he’s guessed.

Inlinkz – Click here to join the fun!

Friday Fictioneers – Time out of mind

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.

Inlinkz – click here to join the fun!

Friday Fictioneers – After the Deluge

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PHOTO PROMPT (C) Jeff Arnold

After the deluge

The deluge had been intense but brief, hammering the earth until the road ran red with mud.

In the succeeding calm, Mary sat down at her piano. Her touch on the keys was gentle, loving even, as she played her favourite hymn. She’d learned it, oh, fifty years ago, just before her fiancé, John, had left for Vietnam. Her fingers hesitated as she remembered how he had come back.

She wouldn’t have been able to cope with that, surely?

Her eyes strayed to the window.

A rainbow glowed and her husband, Donald, smiled at her as he gathered roses.

Inlinkz – click to join in the fun!

Friday Fictioneers – Shuttered

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Photo Prompt © Roger Bultot

Shuttered

After that first time, Binyamin knew better than to tell his father how he felt about Asher. He shuttered his face and kept his tears for the dark hours of night, alone in his bedroom. Besides, what good would tears do? His father had moved the family across the continent to give them a chance of a better life. How could he argue against that? If only he could speak to Asher occasionally, or even just speak about him to his family…

Day by day his face grew harder.

Day by day his joy diminished.

The shutters rusted solid.

Inklinkz – click here

Friday Fictioneers – In Memoriam

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Copyright – Adam Ickes

In Memoriam

The time for fighting was past.

The time for prayers was past.

Words of love and consolation had been spoken; a painful balm for an atrocious parting.

A breeze through the open window softened the summer heat in the sickroom, where she lay breathing gently, unconscious and free of pain. Her husband held her hand. Her two, grown-up daughters sat by the bed. Her sisters were close. She was so peaceful that none of those she loved could tell when the end came.

Wife, mother, teacher.

Sister, feminist, friend.

Who will fill her shoes now?

FFfAW – Two Tides

This is a story for the flash fiction challenge, Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. We are given a photo prompt that is kindly photographed by our participants and approximately 75-175 words with which to create our stories. It’s fun and everyone is invited to participate. For more information, click here.

To read all the stories submitted for this challenge, click on the blue froggy button below.

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This week’s photo prompt is provided by Footy and Foodie. Thank you for our prompt!

Two tides

The estuary was wide, and the far shore was half-hidden by the molten gold of the setting sun. Heidi gazed across the water; such a beautiful place; so many happy memories; such heartache. Alan’s absence throbbed like an abscessed tooth. How could he have just walked out on her?

“Bastard,” she typed into her phone, thought a moment, then clicked ‘Send’.

She spent a restless night, missing his warmth, his smell, his gentle snoring. She was distracted the next day, missing his laugh, his strength, his irritating way of interrupting what she was saying.

He didn’t reply to her text.

Somehow, she drifted to the estuary again that evening. She was so wrapped up in memories that she didn’t notice his approach.

He faced her, dark-rimmed eyes apprehensive.

“I am so sorry,” he said.

Word count: 134

That day

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This is a poem by a friend of mine, Alison Simmons, and the photograph that inspired it, taken by kenaz24photography. I enjoyed words and image, so I thought I’d share them. Thank you to both Alison and Dylan!

“That Day”

Where did the sun go on that day, the cloud hung deep and low
Your lone figure on the hill, I watched you walk away.
Where did the joy go on that day, the trees and air were still
My heart screamed loud, my tears fell hushed, I could not speak or pray.

The birds flew south and winter came, you left me, now I know
I asked your friends, I said I’m fine, I saw them nod to say,
I held my breath and stopped the time, I felt the clock go slow,
Your friends they gently smiled and moved, the shadows came to play

But now the spring is coming, the winter’s rest has slipped,
The day the birds return is near, the sun will burn the mist.
My strength to look, to calm my heart, another day renewed,
The shadow of you on that path an autumn memory,
But still I wont forget my love,
That hill, that cloud that day..

Autumn Leaves