#FF: Alone together

fridays-moon-ted-strutz
© Ted Strutz

Friday Fictioneers (#FF)
This week’s 100-word story is inspired by this photograph provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
A sappy little love story this week.


We took the ferry across Sydney Harbour. The moon shone brightly upon us as we held hands and kissed on the nearly empty deck. We didn’t care who watched. We admired the approaching city lights and talked about old times.

As far as we were concerned, we were the only two people in the world.

We had never been so in love as at that moment.

The fireworks display on the bridge was just for us.

***

At the quay, I purchased my ticket for next time.

I walked to my car and drove home.

God, how I miss him.

~~~ YinYang ~~~

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My heart is a ghost town

Note: This is the first cut of a song I’m working on for acoustic guitar, but I thought I’d stop here and call it a poem for now — Draft 1.


GhostTownStrolling down these dusty streets
Once again I walk alone
I’m taunted by the howling wind
Laughing, saying I told you so.

Even the tumbleweeds drift on by
Taking no notice of my bitter sorrow
Rolling on without a care
Knowing what I can never have.

Saloon doors swing, and welcome me in.
I sit alone at the empty bar
Seeking solace at the bottom of the bottle,
But my thirst for you is never quenched.

My soul wanders in a ghost town
Since you walked away without me
Leaving me here with the tumbleweeds,
A dry reminder of my lonesome heart.

~~~ *Yinyang* *Peace* ~~~

#FF: No pie like it

FridayFictioneers (#FF)

diner-roger-bultot
© Roger Bultot

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


“The first and best apple pie I ever ate was in this diner.”
“Really? I thought Grandma’s was your favorite.”
“It was.”
I scowled in confusion.
“My dear, Lily got her first job here when she was only sixteen. I came every day. She made the apple pies herself from her mother’s recipe.”
“You married her for her pie,” I laughed.
I pretended not to see his eyes mist up.
Grandpa had us, but I knew he was lonely these days. He still comes to the diner every day.
Memories, I suppose.
But now he orders only coconut cream pie.

~~~

#FF: Celebrate

FridayFictioneers (#FF)

horses-in-snow
© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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


“Look at you.” Sara stamped her feet and closed the door behind her, shutting out the icy winter wind. “You look cozy. Nice fire, and what a gorgeous view.”
“Thanks. I love watching the horses. Oh look, there’s deer too. Have some tea and a slice of cake. Here’s a blanket. Curl up here in the other chair beside me.”
“Wow. You’re going all out here. Love all the candles, and those socks. You’re Grandma made those for you, didn’t she?”
“Yes, a few years ago.”
“You’ve certainly created an atmosphere, haven’t you? I love it.”
“Yep. I’m celebrating hygge*.”


* Hygge (pronounced hoo-gah). I hope you all take time to celebrate hygge this holiday season. Best wishes to you all and may luck shine on you in 2017.
http://www.visitdenmark.com/denmark/art-danish-hygge http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-34345791
http://hyggehouse.com/hygge

~~~

#FF: The end (and the beginning)

© David Stewart
© David Stewart

100-word Flash Fiction
#FridayFictioneers

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

This week, I’m offering the final installment to my previous stories of the time-traveling Victoria (Part 1: Faint memories, Part 2: Pourquoi moi? and Part 3: Third time charm). I hope you enjoy it. For those of you who might have been waiting for the final chapter, I apologize (again) for the delay. It has been very a busy summer.


The tall man grasped her tighter still.

“Yes,” she whispered again more softly.

The waltz ended. With no word, he disappeared into the garden.

Her heart pounded. He is gone? No, a voice screamed in her head.

She followed.

At the east gate, a note was tucked under the rusting hinges. The red wax seal. His. Her name. Victoria. Carefully scripted in black ink on the outside.

She trembled as she read his words.

The hinges screeched as she slowly stepped through the gate, to the past, now her present and her future.

Finally. She was his. She was home.

***

Creative Expressions #14: Caribbean island

PCE1Logo

Welcome to the 13th edition of Pen’n’Tonic’s Creative Expressions challenge.

Join the challenge. Everyone is welcome!

Each week on Tuesday (as time permits), I’ll post a word, a phrase, a picture, or an idea that will constitute a prompt from which to submit a poem, a flash fiction piece (preferably not longer than 250 words), an original photograph, an original artwork, or a combination of these things that you think applies to the week’s theme.

Interpret the theme as you see fit. The only rules are that you be creative, be original, and have fun. Post your entry on your own blog and add your link to the InLinkz page (see little blue frog image below). Read more