Friday Fictioneers for April 22, 2022

Mistress Rochelle, the colorful manager and FF maven of artistic madness, prompts us today, with the aid of a Carole Erdman-Grant photo of an abandoned building with a marvelous paint job.

PHOTO PROMPT © Carole Erdman-Grant Click on the picture to zip on over to Rochelle’s page for all the news and graphic rules.

Genre: Family Fiction
Title: Overheard Gen Art
Word Count: 99

“Mom! Look at that! It’s beautiful. Let’s get dad to buy it.

Julie, that is junk. It’s sad—the worst of gang graffiti. It’s ugly.

Mother, you have no taste. That rocks—it is the fucking bomb. That’s great urban art.

Sweetheart, that is not art. It’s gang turf tagging and watch your language. This was once a nice place to eat. Now look at it: a concrete canvas for bored morons.

It’s metaphorical, Mom. You’re so shallow. If dad doesn’t buy it, I’ll kill myself.

And if he does you won’t have to because I’ll kill you both.”


Look both ways for all that is seen and felt.
Mind gaps and don’t touch the wet paint.

Click on Mels (sic) drive-in from the American Graffiti movie to find more fictioneering.

Friday Fictioneers for April 15th 2022

Once again, the lovely Rochelle, Maven of artistic fact and fiction, and Dale, ingenious photographer to the ethereal and adroit crafter of masterful tales, have conspired to extract mid-April narratives from the noggins and minds of Friday Fictioneer followers.

My song-related reportage maxed out at the 100-word limit and follows Dale’s visual. Click on the chair to write your story if you dare.

Click on the photo to ride on over to Rochelle’s page to read all about it.

Genre: Senior Gonzo Fiction
Title: Concealed Carry
Word Count: 100

***

We limped in. Kris needed his cane. The music sucked, but our old table was available. We sat and waited.

A young man approached.

He said, “You need to leave. We don’t want your kind in here. Now get out.”

I glared at him for a minute. “Two waters, coffee with cream, and menus, please.” His anger was visible as he moved closer. Kris placed his pistol on the table.

“Listen motherfucker, I’m Bobby McGee. We’ve nothing left to lose. You do. Repeat the order, fetch it with a smile or say ‘goodbye.’ We ain’t leaving alive. We’ll await Janis.”


Look both ways but remember the seventies if you can.
Mind the gaps for Glocks and dead grumpy waiters.

Give a Glock Click HERE to find more great stories. And for your happy entertainment, four of the finest good ol’ boys.

Friday Fictioneers for April 8th, 2022

Today the ever lovely and charming Mistress of Mystery and lover of history and animals, Madam Rochelle, teamed up with David Stewart to serve up a delicious challenge which she prompted from her recliner throne surrounded by things important to her.

My 100-story follows the prompt photo. Is yours here?

 

click on red land line (or anywhere) in the PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart to go check out Rochelle’s blog for the latest menu.

Genre: Breakfast Fiction
Title: I Got You, Babe
Word Count: 100

They had told me there was another man. She’d soon be leaving me. I’d catch them in the act and kill them, then myself.

I parked a block away, planning to catch them having breakfast. I cautiously entered Big Al’s Restaurant. I saw two meals without coffee. Did she give it up for him? Probably a Mormon.

Her voice, “Hi Babe. Eggs sunny side up, right? Just like you, bright and sunny. I had to get our coffee. Did you drop the kids off? I’m working on that writing prompt you told me about.”

I decided to delay my plan.


Look both ways for drama in your life.
Mind the gaps for reasons to commit fictional crimes
if you are indeed a writer of such.

Click on the wayward children to read other flash stories.

Friday Fictioneers for April 1st, 2022

Sheriff of the Friday Fictioneer’s photo-prompted story telling tribe, the legendary Mistress Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, dons her purple Converse All Stars, the color of the brave, and leads her army of writing spirits into another battle with our hidden, internal creative imaginations in the face narrative challenges armed with only one hundred words. Today she teams with a Roger Bulot prompt photo of an urban scene for us to draw our pens and to drum on our keyboards as we begin our final March march of extraordinaire flash fictioneering into April.

Click on the PHOTO PROMPT by © Roger Bultot to taxi on over to Rochelle’s fabulous footwear and curly hair care blog to get the straight skinny on how to join up with these crazy cats.

Genre: Funny Fiction
Title: A Big Lie
Word Count: 100

***

“Gregor, why dem kicks up dare?”

“Dem’s cuz last night was second new years eve, Julie. Ya makes a wish and trows up yer J-jays”

“Second new years? Never heard ‘bout dat. Today is second new years day?”

“Oui, bae. Today use’ta was new years till dey changed calendars, yers to myin.”

“We had our own calendars? Cool! Ima gunna trow deez old sneaks up for good luck.”

“Dems yer all-stars, Jules.”

Barefoot Julie hung her shoes, first try. “Now, we have lots-a luck. Happy new years.”

“Yeppers, bae. Same. Taday also been April fool’s day fer near five-hundred years.”


Look both ways and practice wise skepticism this Friday.
Mind the gaps for a joke or a hoax.

Click on the Cabernet Sauvignon infused Jordan to read other fine fiction.

Gloss: (if you need it) April Fools’ Day goes back to 1582. France switched from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar, ala the Council of Trent in 1563. People slow to get the news or failed to start a new year on 1 January and continued to celebrate it during the last week of March through April 1 became the butt of jokes and hoaxes. Pranks included having paper fish placed on their backs and being referred to as poisson d’avril (April fish), said to symbolize a young, easily hooked fish and a gullible person.

Friday Fictioneers for March 25th, 2022

Our Friday Fictioneers Mistress Rochelle has conjured up an inspirational prompt photo of her own, which sent my muse back to the beginning of it all. My story follows Rochelle’s picture.

Click on the photo prompt (© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields) for a magic carpet ride to Rochelle’s purple palace.

 


Genre: Travel Fiction
Title: You Again?
Word Count: 100

***

I saw the snake, backed away, and warned Sarff.

“Is it poisonous?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

A feminine voice said, “I’m not poisonous.”

Sarff said, “A talking snake. How cool. What’s your name?”

“I’m Petra. You’ll be okay. Just watch your step.”

I said, “Snakes can’t talk. It’s a trick.”

“You’re such a skeptic, Ormr. Read the Bible,” said Sarff.

Petra said, “The pomegranates at the top of the hill are yummy this time of year.”

As we climbed up. Sarff said, “Thanks. I love pomegranates.”

I said, “It’s forbidden to eat the fruit here.” They laughed at me.


Look both ways when reading fact or fiction.
Mind the gaps for hidden serpents.

Click on the pomegranate bush to read more inspired stories.

Friday Fictioneers for March 18th, 2022

Throughout history, Anonymous has produced some of the best known and loved poetry, art, crime, and mystery. Also, cadavers (aka, John Doe) and AA members.

I’ve considered publishing my next book (also my first) under the Anonymous nom de plume to benefit from his/her/their great success and notoriety. Sometimes, events in my life made me want to be that person: Anonymous.

Today, Her Royal Craftiness, The Princess of Prevarication, Mistress of History, and Duchess of the Storied Squares, Madame Rochelle Wisoff-Fields has teamed with the formerly unknown, but now revealed, Brenda Cox, photo contributor to tempt us into the gated domain of Friday Fictioneers story telling.

Click the pic for a fantasy ride to Rochelle’s castle to learn how to play by her rules. Can you tell your story in one hundred words or fewer? Try it if you dare.

Prompt photo by Brenda Cox. One click away from the Rochelle’s purple world.

Genre: Dark Fiction
Title: My New Home
Word Count: 100

***

Vlad was my goth-looking guide into the witness protection program. As we approached the old ramshackle house I asked, “What is that horrible smell?”

“That’s cadaverine. We spray the perimeter with the ptomaine to keep people away. Only harpies and vampire groupies like it. The death odor attracts buzzards but keeps cartel soldiers, nosey lawmen, and reporters away. You’ll get used to it.”

When I opened the gate, I was struck by the sweet odors of hyacinth and incense. I saw the casket and glared at Vlad.

“Appearances. Protecting people like you is dangerous. Living quarters are underground. Welcome home.”


Look both ways.
Be alert doing good or evil.
Mind the gaps for major life changes.

***

The vampire mansion is a hotlink to inlinkz and more mico-fiction stories.

Friday Fictioneers for March 11, 2022

Star aquatic endurance athlete and mistress of the micro-fiction, flash-splash, Friday on Wednesday, the magnifico Rochelle has paired with Lisa Fox to push a prompt for our creative muses to produce 100 words or fewer, from a genre of our choosing, and to write a story for the world to read.

Click on Lisa’s photo to fly over to Rochelle’s Purple Maze and get read-in on the top-secret life of global fictioneers. My story follows the prompt pic.

PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox (click for Rochelle’s blog page)

Genre: Spy Fiction
Title: It’s a Living
Word Count: 100

***

“That’s it, Ted. The ad said five hundred a month.”

Bill pointed toward the house, “Interesting antennas. The owners are either aliens or spies. Nice metal roof though. The wooden one burned when the old lab exploded. They’ve added electrical and plumbing.”

“It needs to look like the lab’s back. We’ll piggyback with the comm towers on the house. Nobody suspects a counter intel op in an old garage slash meth kitchen.”

“I’ll go sign the lease. You call in and arrange equipment delivery for tomorrow night. Forecast thunderstorms will provide cover. Spies spying on spies. Hell, it’s a living.”


Look both ways with skeptical eyes.
Mind the gaps in all intelligence.

Click on the CIA floor logo to link up with more fun stories.

***

I need to watch this movie, don’t cha think?

Friday Fictioneers for March 4th, 2022

Mistress Rochelle is on a twisted tantrum with tilted photos and pictures of leaning towers in the swamplands of Italy. If this photo, supplied by Anne Higa, inspires you to write a story on the straight and vertical, click on the Pisa Plaza picture to gondola over to the Maven of Purple (Rochelle) for the rules and regulations and how to post your square right over there.

My unholy semi-fib follows the photo.

Click the PHOTO PROMPT © Anne Higa to open Rochelle’s blog page.

 


Genre: Historical Fiction
Title: Holy Land for Pisa
Word Count: 100

***

“Drudo, tomorrow we sail for the Holy Land.”

“Good, Gotto. I’m sick of this damn tower. The world isn’t impressed. Every tower in town leans. Merda!”

“We’ll return with holy cargo from Calvary in Jerusalem for this Square of Miracles. Pisa will be famous. The excursion is funded with riches we took from Sicily.”

“We’ll never be known for our towers, Gotto. What bounty shall make us heroes?”

Gotto grinned. “Fifty-three shiploads of dirt.”

Drudo whines, “We battle for riches. We spend blood-won bounty on shiploads of dirt for a cemetery in a swamp. The tower is a better idea.”


Look both ways.
Historical truth need not make sense.
Mind the gaps in the foundations of towers.
Fame comes as much from failure as from success.
(It could have happened like that.)

Click on Superman straightening the tower to read other creative stories.

About one year after his birth, Galileo was baptized in the Pisa Baptistry of the Square of Miracles in 1565. And yes, it is historical fact. 53 shiploads of dirt from the Hill at Calvary in Jerusalem for the cemetery.

Friday Fictioneers for February 25th, 2022

Our own Wednesday morning moonbeam, Rochelle, in conjunction with Roger Bulot has set the street carnival stage for the final February Friday Fictioneers frolic with ethnic food, fun, and dancing in the street. Click on Roger’s contributed picture for a magic carpet ride over to play where growing older does not require growing up and purple is plentiful.

My mundane mindless myth meanders about the crowd in the 100 worried words below the prompt photo.

Click on the PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot for a taxi over to Rochelle’s page.

 


Genre: Bazaar Fiction
Title: American Men
Word Count: 100

***

“There. Blue baseball cap, Ray-Bans, running shoes. Passing the Greek Jewish food. Go!”

She approached. “Hello, mark. Remember me?”

He lowered his shades and made eye contact, then noticing her cleavage, “Ah, I’m afraid I, um, ah…”

She touched his bare arm. “I’m, Chloé. Last June in Paris?”

Embarrassed, he felt blood and sense drop from his brain to his groin. He felt a nudge from behind. He turned to look. When he turned back, she was gone, as was his wallet, watch, and even his sunglasses.

He thought, I should have known at the lower-case mark. My name’s Bill.


Look both ways on crowded streets.
Mind the gaps of décolletage and keep your eye on the ball.

Click anywhere you like to find the other wonderful worldly contributions to read and comment.

Friday Fictioneers for February 18th, 2022

Yet again, two of our favorite jolies femmes have teamed up to conspire with a cat, to inspire me to find fewer than 101 words of micro-fiction for Friday Fictioneers. Dale delights us with her cute and clever bookshelf cat photo. Rochelle, Madame cat herder extraordinaire, challenges us and guides our stories. I thank them both.

Click on Dale’s cat-that-reads photo to prance on over to Rochelle’s page for all the latest ‘nip.

Genre: Feline Fiction
Title: The Prints of Paws
Word Count: 100

I’m telling you, Francesco, we’re the greatest predators, evah. We can kill them. Everything becomes ours. Look around. Cameras, computers, food, catnip galore. All ours.

Gabriella, stop. If she finds out you’ve been peeing on her books, she’ll blame me. What if she tosses us outside? I know how you love the cold. And that’s not ‘nip. It’s pot. Let’s hold off until Spring.

I can pee wherever, my chicken-feline-friend. How many cat books do you see? None. Let’s get into her account and order cat books.

Here she comes. Look cute. She’s got her camera. Stardom beckons.


Look both ways if you love animals, especially cats.
No shelf is too high, no corner too dark.

Inspired by I could Pee on This: And Other Poems by Cats by Francesco Marciuliano (and other cat books soon to be showing up on Dale’s account and TBRs).

Click on the sweet le félin to read more stories inspired by the cat on a shelf.