Friday Fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers for March 31st, 2023

To close out March and its fictionally lionized madness, our mysterious and mischievous Mistress Rochelle of the Wisoff Mermaids had synchronized and choreographed with Amanda Forestwood for us to play with a wonderfully musical picture using our own creative bow.

I sat and fiddled with this gem of a photograph before contriving a roguishly prankish story set in the summertime southern US of A.

Click on Amanda’s picture of a violin in a lawn chair to hear how to tune up your own strings and to play your own personal ballad, <101 word story, tale, or fib at Rochelle’s Purple Place of Passion (her blog).

PHOTO PROMPT © Amanda Forestwood

Genre: Christian Fantasy
Title: Summer Confessions
Word Count: A sinful 100

***

Ain’t no hooch at Preacher Hardingfele and his sexy wife, Lorena’s, Annual Southern Baptist July Fourth backyard barbeque, so I toted me a flask of Brother Jack flavored with lots of Old Pot’s THC lemon extract. I spiked Lorena’s punch, and she knew it.

To spank me, we drug a sunchair behind the garage. I was still fiddlin’ with Lor’s bra strap when her Preacher-man seen us. He got his gun, so I took to run and yelled about biblical forgiveness. I knew of his fornicatin’ Sister Betty Berliew, so I got away.

Every year, Hardingfele’s barbeque is more fun.

***

Look both ways if you’re going to play around with Preacher’s peeps.
But mind the gaps and them convoluted hooks on lovely Lorena’s bra straps.
Name your instrument according to how you play with it.

Click on the famous (or infamous) Lorena Bobbitt,
who keeps her knives sharp,
to link up with the squares and read more
masterful Friday Fictioneer stories.
(If you’re not familiar with this story, read all about it here.)

***

I wanted to give you the American Civil War song, Lorena, by Johnny Cash (or any number of singers and groups), but one is my limit. So, this couple playing their fiddles (violins are the same, but different) is too good to pass up.

 

Friday Fictioneers for March 24th, 2023

The queen of Friday Fictioneering and purple lane swimming, the lovely Rochelle, has dealt us a prompt photo from the most awesome Liz Young. With an abundance of humor and joking around, the Queen and her King are chiding us into dealing from our own deck to call or raise a story in fewer than 101 words (beginning, middle, and end).

If you want in on the game, a seat is always open for you. Just shuffle on over to Rochelle’s blog by clicking on Liz’s pic. There you will be cut in on the rules according to her Hoyle-ness, and you may drop your ace story with ours in the inlinkz pot using any ante, wager, or whatever photo pleases you.

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

Genre: Memoir
Title: Funny Dad
Word Count: 100

***

Astrid owned the store. I dropped my stuff on a table then went to order.

Her father walked over and told me an Aggie joke.

I glared at him, “Should I laugh now?”

He spewed more insulting chaff. I scowled, “That’s dumber than the first!”

He paid for my order. I insisted she take my money. She refused. Astrid had no choice.

Then he said, “Student loan forgiveness is buying votes.” I dropped my items in the trash and said, “My vote’s not for sale. Don’t quit your day job.”

I haven’t returned. It wasn’t her fault. Dad’s a dick.

***

Look both ways because none of us choose our parents.
Mind the gaps because our DNA is 99% the same as monkeys.
Sometimes we can tell.

Click on the joke book to find more mad-jokery to read.

Friday Fictioneers for March 17th, 2023

Friday is another fictioneers day and Saint Paddy’s Day. I’m mostly Irish, but I never drink green beer and I seldom eat corned beef and cabbage. Who tells a better story than an old Irishman? Who does a better poem read than a young, attractive Irish actor?

Unable to find a suitable Irish lad or lass, Mistress of her storybook realm of fibs and fables, Rochelle, in her high magnificentness, dove down under to Australia. From there, she has shanghaied the prompt photo from Rowena Curtin to lead us into the temptation of creating a complete story with fewer than 101 words.

Click on Rowena’s pic to get the lowdown from Sydney on Rochelle’s blog page. When you’ve written your scoop, you can post it with all the other glorious wonders on inlinkz dot com (see Tim’s photo at the bottom of this blog).

If you can do this (and you certainly can), we promise to read it and comment (nicely) with hopes of delightful reciprocation.

PHOTO PROMPT © Rowena Curtin

Genre: Biographical Fiction
Title: Decisions Made
Word Count: 100

***

He felt betrayed. Trapped. Cheated. Conflicted. Confused. Rage simmered, but what burned him up most was his own self-pity. He was numb. What could he do?

Escape to Canada was wartime treason. If he joined the Army as a rifleman (eleven bravo), he’d be forced to kill or to die. He wanted neither. Everyone he knew would consider him a coward.

The walls closed in. What to do?

He could fight and die in a just war. This one was unjust.

He relented and lived through it all.

Then he wrote about it. Now they would all know his truth.

***

Look both ways because “the bad stuff never stops happening: it lives in its own dimension, replaying itself over and over.”
Mind the gaps because “you’re never more alive than when you’re almost dead.”
(Quotes are from The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien)

 

Click on Tim O’Brien to read more micro-fiction stories drawn from Rowena’s photo.

Friday Fictioneers for March 10th, 2023

For International Women’s Day, Rochelle has invited us to receive inspiration from a yummy photo by Jennifer Pendergast. To save your seat at the FF table, click on Jennifer’s inviting dinner pic for a savory trip over to Rochelle’ place for writer’s just desserts. Be sure to thoroughly peruse all the menu has to offer.

For the record, today is also National Organize Your Home Office Day. Since I kind of stay organized, today I will begin changing my office décor. I could probably finish in one day, but Amazon delivers the goods tomorrow. Today is undo. Tomorrow is do-over.

PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast

Genre: Historical Fiction
Title: Talk To Me
Word Count: 100

***

My invitation to the séance arrived via overnight delivery. It was addressed only to Reynolds. My street address had obviously been added by a different hand. I decided to go. My first.

I arrived before the appointed time of 5:00 AM. The door was ajar, so I walked in. The table had only a crystal ball and twelve empty chairs.

I waited. I double checked the invitation. I had the date right, October 7th. But the year said 1849.

As I waited longer, I felt a chill. Then I heard his voice, “Reynolds, Reynolds, Reynolds. Lord. Help my poor soul.”

***

Look both ways when reading Poe.
Mind the gaps for an elusive truth in his biographical history.

Give Edgar a click to mosey on over to where all the other stories are neatly linked up.

Friday Fictioneers for March 3rd, 2023

To christen March, twenty-twenty-three, and to mark this Rosh Chodesh, our own Friday Fictioneer’s fabulous femme de mystère, Rochelle (aka, the lapping lady on the pool deck), drew upon a Miles Rost a photo to motivate our 100 (or fewer)-word story.

If you want to join us in this clean weekly fun cycle, tumble over to Rochelle’s blog and dry your eyes with the bright colors (esp. purple) and get rinsed and dried for a cleverly pressed story of your own. Just touch the start button on Miles’s photo below. We can iron things out later as we fold in our finest fibs.

PHOTO PROMPT © Miles Rost

Genre: Clean Gonzo Fiction
Title: Loaded Laundry
Word Count: 100
***

I was doing laundry and writing when I heard a door slam.

A lady stormed in carrying a full laundry basket. I tried not to stare. She tossed clothes into a dryer and put something else in with them. Then she stormed out, never looking at me or speaking.

Again, a door slammed. I heard several louder noises, like gun shots.

I smelled something. The dryer she used was billowing smoke. Then it exploded.

I woke up with a firefighter leaning over me asking me what happened. There was more to the story, but I only told what I saw.

Look both ways, even doing normal household chores.
Mind the gaps in silent storming ladies.

Click on the firefighters to link-up with more micro-fiction (or non-) stories.

Friday Fictioneers for February 24th, 2023

Our own Kansas City, major league Girl, pronounced Rochelle, who is in a league of her own, has sent us up to the nosebleed section of Royals stadium for inspiration. It’s her pic, but it’s still football (not baseball) season, for which KC will be smiling and thanking Lubbock, Texas, for sending them the likes of Patrick M. (Superbowl Champs) for many moons. May the Royals be so blessed.

This game is all about telling a complete story in fewer than 101 words (more and you strike out). Click on the stadium pic to hit a home run over at Rochelle’s blog to get her pitch. There you can be umpired on the balls and strikes of Friday Fictioneers. Let the baseball metaphors fly!

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Genre: Baseball History
Title: First Base
Word Count: 100

***

Billy and I bummed on cheap wooden bleachers watching the Rangers. Seven bucks covered everything, including Cowtown to Arlington gas and parking.

“Dad, that lady behind me is blowing on me.”

It was hot. I looked back. A lovely young lady was fanning his neck. She smiled. I mouthed thank you.

He punched his glove, but it would take a homer to get us a ball.

“She’s trying to keep you cool. Some day you’ll appreciate such attention.”

He asked, “Do you think she likes baseball?” I looked again. She winked.

“Yep. She and your mother are both big fans.”

Look both ways when life seems like a dreary competition.
Mind the gaps. At those heights, let the ball come to you.

 

Click on Charlie Sheen checking his package (autographed) to get tossed over to inlinkz where you may read more wonderous stories inspired by Rochelle.

Friday Fictioneers for February 10th, 2023

The Mistress of Friday Fictioneer micro-fiction (and non-fiction), Rochelle, has floated us a Roger Bulot picture with a bench, a bridge, a fence, a river, and a cityscape to inspire us to write our best story in fewer than 101 words. I shoot for a hundred. Some do less. Never more.

Take the risk and click on Roger’s pic to be shipped over to Rochelle’s blog where it all begins.

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Genre: Historical Fiction
Title: Green River Gary
Word Count: 100

***

Gary Ridgway, a middle-aged man, sat on the bench next to her. He asked her name.

“I’m Jane Sue, wanna party? Twenty-five and you get it all.”

He pulled out a Bible and started reading aloud. She rolled her eyes.

Gary said, “Let’s go to Cody’s Camp near the river. We can moonlight dance.”

Jane said, “Dancing’s extra. Time’s money. Let’s go.”

They got in his truck and drove off.

Her real name wasn’t Jane. To this day she is known as one of several Jane Doe’s. Gary sits out his life plea deal. Did he ever reach 100 murders?

***

Look both ways and look again and again.
Mind the gaps, it’s a dangerous world out there.

Note: Gary Leon Ridgway is The Green River Killer. He confessed to the murders of more than 70 women, and it may have been over 90. He is still alive (age 73 now), in prison in Walla Walla, Washington.

Click on the photo of the killer to float over to inlinkz and more thrilling stories.

 

There is more than one Green River, as the CCR band can testify.

Friday Fictioneers for February 3rd, 2023

We’re iced-in over (down) here in Texas, which means it is our bi-annual week of winter.

While Rochelle is recovering from strokin’ too hard, she has rattled our senses with an Alicia Jamtaas photo taken on a lovely romantic day. Our gig now is to write fewer than 101 words telling the stories that our muses whisper to us as we look at Alicia’s pic.

If your muse is tugging at your mind and makin’ you wanna play, click Ms. Jamtaas pic to dance on over to Rochelle’s blog page where you’ll get to read all about it.

PHOTO PROMPT © Alicia Jamtaas

Genre: Dream-dancing Fiction
Title: There She Was
Word Count: 100

***

It was a hot one. I was minding my business, walkin’ down the street, snappin’ my fingers, shufflin’ my feet, feelin’ the beat.

I saw her sitting there. My heart stopped. We waved. It was love. Music played. We danced. We started callin’ out round the world. Everybody was dancing in the street.

If this is a dream, may I never awaken. I called to her, “Baby, let’s make it real.”

We did with all the music playing, we were all singin’ and dancin’ and hot , hot, hot. She yelled, “Carlos, I love you. “I said, “my name’s Bill.”

***

Look both ways but love may be sitting up above on yonder windowsill.
Mind the gaps but (flash mob) dance when you can.

Click on the salsa dancers to flash on over to the inlinkz page for more hot stories.

AND, A little Smooth guitar from the great Carlos Santana to better tell the whole story.

Friday Fictioneers for January 27th, 2023

For the final full week of January, our guide to telling stories based on a picture, Rochelle, has tossed up a J Hardy Carroll pic to inspire us. It took a while but my muse, obviously an older woman, set my mind to an inappropriate tale, but not an uncommon one.

To find the how-to of this story telling challenge, click on the J Hardy photo and you’ll be shuffled over to Rochelle’s blog where the situation is made clear. Can you tell a complete story in one-hundred or fewer words?

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Genre: Erotic Fiction
Title: Pinch Me, Maggie
Word Count: 100

***

She, much older, married and Julia’s mother. I loved her and suspected she knew. I never expected this.

At her daughter’s birthday party, she told me to meet her in the old abandon building north of the football field. I was to be there about eleven. I was early.

I asked, “Mrs. Robinson, why?”

She smiled, “I can tell what you want. Call me Maggie May here, but Mrs. Robinson in public. If you tell anyone about us, I’ll make your life miserable. It’s your move, young man.”

My heart pounded. I held her. “May I kiss you, Maggie May?”

***

Look both ways because love is ageless and where you find it.
Mind the gaps between May and September.

 

Click on the scene from ‘The Graduate’ movie to read more awesome stories.

And, of course, the story as told by Sir Roderick David Stewart.

 

Friday Fictioneers for January 20th, 2023

As we slip into the final third of January in the year twenty twenty-three, the queen of Wednesdays’ Rhapsody and Friday Fictioneering, Rochelle, has joined forces with one of New York’s finest writers, Na’ama Yehuda, to challenge my (and your) muse’s imagination.

They say the average speaking pace is about one-hundred words per minute. So…

Therefore, you can do this today in a New York minute by composing your own story of no more than 100 words, but as few as you like. Hang out here, but then scoot on over to Rochelle’s place, just past the pink laundromat, to clean up on all the how’s and whatnots. Just click on Na’ama’s pic and BAM! You’re there.

PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

Genre: Bohemian Fiction
Title: Sundown Ecstasy
Word Count: 100

***

There was a secret room hidden behind the clothes hanging in her closet. It’s where she went to do things she would never confess—her happy place, an escape from reality. She hid things there: old toys, memories, and sad things. Some day they would find more in her room.

One day, caught in a landslide, she’d had enough of his abuse.

She told them he had washed his clothes, packed, and then left with his gun and girlfriend in his old pick-up truck.

She was happy to know that he was now in a better place. So was she.

***

Look both ways for thunderbolts and lightning—very, very frightening.
Mind the gaps and ask, “Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?”

Click on Freddy’s pic to read more outstanding Friday Fiction.

 

And if you have not figure it out —- but this is a cute family (The Petersens) with a different vibe.