Tag Archives: #FridayFictioneers

#FF: A dog’s life

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Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

FridayFictioneers (#FF)

This week’s 100-word story is inspired by this photograph provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.


I hate this shower, Duke thought.

I’m clean. I played for three hours in the lake.

Why are they torturing me this way?

How would they like this foamy white stuff all over them? It’s inhumane.

And that smell. It smells like those little purple flowers in the garden. I can’t stand being near those flowers.

Finally, they’re finished. Three wet towels. Heh. Heh. Bet if I shake hard, they’ll let me out of this jail cell.

“Ahh. Duke. Do you have to do that every time?”

Yep, now open that door. I have a lake to conquer.

~~~

#FF: The star still burns

janet-webb-french-still-life
© Janet Webb

FridayFictioneers (#FF)

This week’s 100-word story is inspired by this photograph provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.


I’m the figure on the stone. Naked and exposed, or sleeping my days away.

She takes me from this room only to see Dr. Cullen. She says I’m too frail. She says I must stay here. She says it’s for my own good. She says she doesn’t have time to take me to the garden.

She doesn’t understand. My brain works, but this damned body won’t cooperate with it anymore.

Yesterday, she brought me the jar of fairy lights. She said I could pretend they were stars or fireflies.

I pray for the dark.


~~~YinYang.png~~~

#FF: Saving Grace

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© Sandra Crook

This week’s 100-word story is inspired by this photograph provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.


Brother Ambrose softly hefted the bag of newly ground rye over his shoulder muttering yet another prayer.

Everyone was at Matins, so he was safe. This would make many loaves of bread for the orphan children in the village.

In the seven years he’d been at the monastery, he’d stolen countless bushels of food. If the abbot, discovered his theft he’d be punished for a year, he was sure; but, aye, it would be worth it to see the foundlings eat.

His only justification was that somewhere out there one of those foundling children might be his own.

***

#FF: Nothin’ fancy

sewingmachine_sandracrook
© Sandra Crook

#FridayFictioneers (#FF)

This week’s 100-word story is inspired by this photograph provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.


Don’t know why they called it a Singer, ‘cause it sho’ wouldn’t sing for me. I jumbled up more outfits ‘n I care t’ remember. My fingers still got callouses from jammin’ ’em under the needle or tryin’ to pry out them balls of thread from a messy seam.

Ma could make it sing though. When we was little, she done beautiful clothes at the factory.

Worked long hours, she did, ‘n’ always come home tired. Never had much time for me and Jemmy, but we always had food on the table and, of course, decent clothes. Nothin’ fancy mind you.

~~~

#FF: Something happened

© Vijaya Sundaram
© Vijaya Sundaram

#FridayFictioneers (#FF)

This week’s 100-word story is inspired by this photograph provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

I hope everyone had a great summer!


I’ve always hated fireworks.
Josef knew that, but he insisted I go with him.
“Come here. Hold my hand.”
The first explosion. I flinched.
The second explosion. I cringed and crushed his hand.
The third explosion. I jumped and ran from the oohing and aahing crowd.
Josef followed, yelling for me to come back. “It’s only fireworks.” He yelled after me.
If he only knew. If anyone only knew.
Thirty-three years and I can’t get that sound out of my head. The sight of blood. The screams.
The nightmares still haunt me regularly.
Maybe someday I’ll tell him.
Tell someone.
~~~

#FF: That spring thing

grey-day-with-pigeons-roger-bultot
© Roger Bultot

100-word Flash Fiction
#FridayFictioneers (#FF)

This week’s 100-word story is inspired by this photograph provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.


Everywhere I go there they are. They’ve been following me for days. Why? I have no special colors, and I’m rather shy. I can build a pretty mean nest though and I do sing beautifully.

I admit, they are certainly attractive with their bright colors and kinda funny with all their flaunting and feather fluffing.

Ah, I get it. I’m the only female here.

So, who to choose. This little dude right next to me is pretty hot. Why is he facing that way when the rest of us are all facing this way?

I’ll choose him. I like different.

***

#FF: I don’t even have the dress yet

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© Mary Shipman

100-word Flash Fiction
#FridayFictioneers (#FF)

This week’s 100-word story is inspired by this photograph provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.


Since she was ten, Marissa talked about dressing in Victorian style on her wedding day. “If you’re going to do a period wedding, you’ll have to be authentic,” Mother always said.

Today, in the most exclusive vintage shop Mother could find, they shopped for the costume.

“How much is that?” Marissa excitedly asked the owner pointing to a lovely chemise.

“Three hundred twenty five dollars.”

“And that gorgeous corset?”

“Twelve hundred fifty.”

“I’m thin, I don’t need the corset. The petticoat?”

“Eighteen hundred.”

“Oh.”

Fifteen minutes later, they met Dad at the car. Mom smiled and whispered, “Crisis averted.”

***