Thanks to Rochelle @Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple for providing another Friday Fictioneers photo prompt. Her weekly challenge is for us to write a story of 100 words or less based on a photo prompt (thanks to Roger Bultot).
Genre: Narrative poetry
Title: Joe’s Plan
Word count: 96
Joe was okay for 96;
a walker, a bag, and caths.
not bad. no cancer.
she was long gone.
he felt guilty and missed her.
Joe had a plan.
one night, after the poker game,
the pain was too much.
at the hospital er, shingles, they said,
was not deadly.
that night in his bathtub
he used his .38 Special
to join with her,
just past the veil.
Joe’s girlfriend found him, cops came,
hazmet cleaned up. some family members
dealt with his stuff. all they ever wanted
was joe’s money. now it’s finished.
Look both ways and wonder why, but death awaits all.
Mind the gaps and keep your powder dry.
Thanks to Rochelle @Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple for another midweek, Friday Fictioneers photo prompt. Her weekly challenge is for us to write a story of 100 words or less based on a photo prompt (this week, hers).
Title: When I Met Sparky
Word Count: 100
Old Sparky was its name. A useless device, except for taking out life 695 times.
I could have been seeing any old gallows, a chopping block, a guillotine, but it was an ugly wooden chair with dried up leather straps and old wires. It was a creative invention to kill in a kinder, gentler way.
I felt a willfulness choke me.
I kept my emotions hidden. When the warden asked if I would like to sit in the chair (against the rules), without moving my eye from what must have been a sight for thousands, I mumbled a muffled, “Nope.”
Look both ways when you kill.
Mind the gaps death cannot be undone.
Thanks to Rochelle @Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple for another Friday Fictioneers inspiring Wednesday photo. Her weekly challenge is to write a story of 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. This week’s inspiration is provided by C.E. Ayr.
Genre: (Autobiographical) Fiction
Title: Some Friends
Word Count: 100
I was to meet Clair, Jack’s wife, on the movie set. We met for coffee during her break. Clair introduced me to Astrid, who left us alone to talk. She got to the point.
“Bill, I’m leaving Jack.”
I said I was not surprised.
She said, “You’re his best friend. How can you say that?”
“Yes, I am. But I have no idea why anyone would want to be married to him.”
“Bill, you don’t understand. I am leaving him for another woman. You just met her.”
“Oh shit, Clair. I wish I could be there when you tell him.”
Look both ways in life and love.
Mind the gaps in close friendships.
Thanks to Rochelle @Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple for another Friday Fictioneers inspirational photo, promulgated on Wednesday. Her weekly challenge is to write a story of 100 words or less based on the photo prompt, provided this week by J Hardy Carroll.
Title: Big Bend Kill Me, Save Me
Genre: Fiction (Texas Outdoors)
Word Count: 100
I was lost at night in the Chihuahuan Desert of southwest Texas. Thunderstorms flooded arroyos with torrents leading to the Rio Grande. Without overnight gear, rain soaked me. I couldn’t see as storms raged and lightning flashed.
A bolt struck near me. I felt an electrical burn run through my body. I was going to die. A nearby cactus caught fire and burned despite the rain. I crawled under a rock outcropping.
Park Rangers rescued me in the morning. Someone had seen my signal. I asked, What signal? They said, a tall pillar of yellow light pointed the way. Strange.
Look both ways and carry the ten essentials of survival.
Mind the gaps for flash floods.
Many thanks to Rochelle @Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple for pointing me to another photo-inspired Friday Fictioneers. The weekly challenge she presents is to write a story based on the photo prompt, provided today by Ted Strutz.
My task is to write a complete story in 100 words or less.
Title: One Last Time
Genre: Fiction (Southern Gothic)
Word count: 100
Abject fear hit me when I saw his house, familiar feelings founded on my childhood nightmares with an abusive father and an enabling mother.
I love South Carolina’s low country but have few good memories, a good place with fine people. But not him.
I walked the three steps to front door. A gunshot stunned me. I ducked, looked around, then carefully opened the door.
He put the WWII .45 on the table and said, “Safety’s broke. I ain’t goin’ to no death house.”
“Well, Dad, you cannot live here. And you damn sure ain’t livin’ with me. Now pack!”
Look both ways for the life you’ve lived.
Mind the gap like a bad dream.
Many thanks to Rochelle @Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple for guiding us through Friday Fictioneers. The challenge she presents is to write a story based upon a photo prompt, provided today by the same lovely Rochelle herself.
The challenge was to write a complete story (beginning, middle, and end) in 100 words or less.
Title: Downtown Ice Cream
Word count: 100
Elizabeth and Jacob—so much in love. Next week, they’d be off to France for their honeymoon.
The dark-skinned man finished his ice cream, wiped his lips on a napkin, then walked to the restroom. Coming out he walked past them and toward the door.
Jacob yelled, “Sir, you forgot your valise.” The man turned to see Jacob grab the case. He yelled, “God no!”
The explosion killed 22 in the store and seriously injured 15 in the street.
The officer dropped the engagement ring into a plastic bag saying, “I hope we don’t find the finger to fit this.”
Look both ways for awareness of surroundings.
Mind the gaps in the frozen hearts of terrorists.
Click the blue frogs for the link to read other stories offered for today’s challenge.
Many thanks to Rochelle @Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple for again distance-herding us through another Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a story based upon a photo prompt, today by Jennifer Pendergast.
My challenge was to write a complete story (beginning, middle, and end) in 100 words or less. The photo prompt led me to the American West. That triggered an old TV show (western genre). I then found some inspiration in songs by Eric Clapton and Willie Nelson.
I added videos at the end in case you want to see what I’m talking about. The complete TV show is there. It’s too long to watch it all, but the intro is informative.
Many thanks to Rochelle @Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple for herding us through Friday Fictioneers, even while on a vacation visit. The challenge is to write a story based upon a photo prompt, today by Jean L. Hays.
With fewer than 101 words we are challenged to contrive a beginning, middle, and an end.
Title: Whisperer Bay
Genre: Animal Fiction (Allegory)
Word count: 100
I rowed my skiff into the bay and leaned against the seat to vegetate under the stars.
There was a nearby splash. Something bumped the boat. Then again.
Then a voice. “Relax. Don’t talk. Just make sounds.”
I could barely see the head of a dolphin looking at me.
I spoke. “You can talk?”
Again, “Don’t talk. Make sounds. I don’t understand speech. I cannot talk.”
I thought, I must be dreaming.
“No. Some humans understand echolocation sounds. You do.”
I thought, I understand you and you me.
“Come back this time tomorrow. Plan to stay longer. I’ll explain then.”
Relaxed attention sees both ways and perceives concealed secrets.
Mind mental gaps.
Many thanks to Rochelle @Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple for orchestrating Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a story based upon a photo prompt (today she gets extra credit for providing the photo, as well). With fewer than 101 words we are challenged to contrive a beginning, middle, and an end.
Title: Pleasure Palettes
Genre: Romance (autobiographical) Fiction
Word count: 99
I was at my easel trying for a loose, semiabstract, colorful urban cityscape.
Conjetti walked in.
“Did I hear you talking to someone?”
“It was your boyfriend. He’ll call back later.”
She cleared her throat.
“Okay. It was Julie. We discussed art. She said watercolor is a metaphor for letting go.”
“And you said?”
“I told her it was like herding wet, angry cats of different colors that don’t mix well.”
She reached around and grabbed me, biting my neck.
“Follow me,” she said with a sultry gaze.
I smiled, “At your service m’lady.”
“You’d better be.”
Look both ways as
“Life imitates art far more than art imitates Life” (Oscar Wilde).
Mind the gaps of romantic truth.