Friday Fictioneers – A winter carriage ride

First, an apology. I am working very hard to edit my novel, “The Owl on the Pergola”. I couldn’t resist the temptation of writing a Friday Fictioneers story, but I shall only be reading a handful of others. I’m afraid I shan’t be writing many comments.

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 © NA’AMA YEHUDA

A Winter Carriage Ride

The carriage was gloss black with purple upholstery. The horse was black with a purple plume adorning its head.

Guy’s family piled blankets around him. Maureen, his wife, snuggled close and held his hand. She felt him shaking. ‘Is this trip a good idea?’ she wondered.

The horse leaned into the traces, and suddenly they were moving, rumbling sedately through the almost deserted paths of Central Park. The black, skeletal trees were traced in a silver frosting of snow like hope – or solace.

Guy stared at them, his eyes moist.

“Thank you. I’ve always wanted to do this,” he said.

Inlinkz – click here to join the fun!

Friday Fictioneers – The Wonky Wand

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!

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

The wonky wand

The fairy’s name was Gwendolen. She was dumpy, her iridescent wings looked clumsy, and the star on her wand flickered.

“Oh bugger!” she said, “I’m stuck.” She glared at me. “As long as you’re watching, I can’t leave.”

I looked away.

“And I must recharge my wand. Please wish for something you want really badly.”

I wished, and felt a surge of energy, tingling like intense pins and needles.

“Wow!” I exclaimed.

Gwendolen had gone. I strolled to the hotel bar.

“Hi! Are you Fiona?”

He was tall, with a warm smile.

“Good luck!” Gwendolen’s voice whispered faintly in my imagination.

Friday Fictioneers – The offering

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!

Photoprompt (c) Roger Bulltot

The Offering

“Dad, may I go into the ruin?”

Russell smiled at his eight-year-old son, John.

“OK. No climbing, mind.”

In the cool shadows, John could feel the holiness of the place. There was a special silence that was full of voices chanting. He took out a trowel from his backpack, and the silver teaspoon that his mum had bought him at the seaside because he had wanted it so much. There, amid the echo of centuries of prayer, he buried the spoon, and wished with all his might.

In her hospital bed, John’s mum peacefully abandoned her struggle against cancer.