Friday Fictioneers – Vive le Quebec libre!

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!


Vive le Quebec libre!

In my youth I travelled to many countries, and in July 1967 chance took me to Montreal. Strolling to my hotel, I was musing on de Gaulle’s inflammatory speech – ‘Vive le Quebec libre’, indeed! – and barely noticed a small group carrying a large and unseasonal Christmas tree.

The group was led by a rather attractive young woman, who asked if I would kindly take a photograph of them. She smiled, I obliged, went on my way and forgot the incident.

Until yesterday, when I received the following email.

‘It’s over fifty years since you took this photograph. Do you remember?’

Inlinkz – click here to join the fun!

What Pegman saw – Literary Fiction

“What Pegman saw” is a weekly challenge based on Google Streetview. Using the 360 degree view of the location provided, you must write a piece of flash fiction of no more than 150 words. You can read the rules here. You can find today’s location on this page,  from where you can also get the Inlinkz code.

WPS Poisson-Blanc Quebec 170901

Literary Fiction

Every mile driven between the trees was a mile further from civilisation, a mile further from the concerts, plays and libraries that Estelle enjoyed so much.

“Never mind,” she thought. “Next year, when I start my postgrad studies, I’ll have a cast-iron excuse not to holiday with the family.” And at least the books in the car’s trunk should last through the fortnight – probably.

The resort was beautiful, the lake deep blue in the evening twilight. Birdsong filled the air, and the fresh breeze carried a scent of pine. Their host proudly told them about the camp sites on the islands dotting the lake. He seemed to feel that the provision of latrines was a cause for celebration.

“And here,” he concluded, “are your canoes.”

Canoes. We paddle there? Really?

Estelle stared at him.

He was tall, well-muscled, attractive – and he had a copy of “Wolf Hall” in his hand.