Friday Fictioneers – Growing marigolds

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!

FF - Growing Marigolds 190313

PHOTO PROMPT © Anshu Bhojnagarwala

Growing marigolds

Ferenc’s fingers hammered the final chords of the Polonaise, and the audience roared its approval.

“A new Liszt!” exclaimed one man to his wife.

Ferenc bowed and swept off stage.

Out of the shadows, the heavy hands of the secret police grasped him, forcing him from the building.

“You are an associate of terrorists.” The interrogator was implacable. “Give us their names, and we will let you live.”

One by one, he broke Ferenc’s fingers.

Now those twisted fingers painfully press marigold seedlings into the compost filling his piano case.

The seedlings will bloom prettily – but you can grow marigolds anywhere.

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter


What Pegman Saw – A Street Market in Tehran

“What Pegman saw” is a weekly challenge based on Google Streetview. Using 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. This week’s prompt is Tehran, Iran

WPS - A Street Market in Tehran 180630

Azadi Tower, Tehran, Iran © Avesta Naseri Google Maps

A Street Market in Tehran

The market smells of fruit and earth, onions and car exhaust as the rush of customers begins.

“Hello, Roxine!” I call. “The oranges are sweet today.”

“I want potatoes, Yegane. How much are they?”


“Too much!”

“As you’re a friend, thirty.”

“That’s a price for a friend? Well, okay.”

“Here they are. Would you like me to look after the kids tonight?”

“You’re a good woman. That would give me time to visit mum. Thank you!”

Her mum is very sick. I pat her hand. Already I’m looking at the next customer.

“Baigum! What would you like?”

“Cherries. And pistachios. And – are those strawberries fresh?”

“Are you a millionaire now?”

She just smiles. She’s wearing heavy make-up with her modest head-scarf.

Then it’s back to shouting, selling produce, sweating until two o’clock.

My husband packs up, while I go and tell the secret police everything I’ve observed.