Friday Fictioneers 4-17-2019

PHOTO PROMPT Dale Rogerson

He approached the black garbage bag. Police officers weren’t supposed to be afraid, but the recent murders went beyond his understanding.

It was a small bag, so a child.

Stepping across the street and into the snow bank beyond, he slit the plastic, turning his eyes away from the gore bound to spill across his sturdy black shoes. Please, please, please don’t let the child be disemboweled, but he didn’t believe in God, not after all these years.

He looked back, plastic plates and cups scattered around his feet.

He began to cry.


Friday Fictioneers 4-17-2019

PHOTO PROMPT Ronda Del Boccio

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The fires were burning now, popping up in various places in the valley below. Soon her prey would be flushed and it would be over. And yet, nothing came and nothing came and nothing came.

She moved into the valley, determined for this to end. The fires, no longer hers, flashed to life, surrounding her in an instant. And beyond, nothing’s eyes, and nothing’s eyes and nothing’s eyes.

Friday Fictioneers 3-29-2019

PHOTO PROMPT ©Sandra Crook

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Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly…..and an interesting parlor it was, thick with the smells of machines and dyes, the loud clacking of a thousand and one spools running in synchronicity.

“I was sad to hear of your father’s troubles with the law.”

“See the intricate way the threads interweave,” said the son, motioning the man closer.




With one touch, Mr King fell into the machine, spun into a web of a thousand and one spools.



Friday Fictioneers 3-22-2019

PHOTO PROMPT ©Dale Rogerson

Chris stood beneath the Ferris Wheel, watching his kids go up, up; unable to see them in the dark, but knowing they were there, somewhere, moving away.
He’d not been a good father. Away playing concerts, in the studio, interviews and promotions.
His kids had paid the price with missed birthdays and school plays, Easter egg hunts and skinned knees. He’d always promised to do better, but hadn’t. A lie to make himself feel better.
They tumbled out of the car, running towards him. “Daddy, Daddy, did you see us up in the sky?”

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Friday Fictioneers 3-18-2019

PHOTO PROMPT © Anshu Bhojnagarwala

He walked into the run-down store. “Evening. Nice planter.”

“You want that piano, son? Ain’t worth nothing.”

He frowned. “Did I say that?”

“Gonna take a while to fix that one.”

He nodded distracted. “Not much chance of that.”

“You know who played that piano? Fats Waller.”

“Really?” He glanced back out the window at the piano, seeing it through different eyes “How much?”

“Son., you make that piano play again, you can have it for free.”

“Thanks,” he said, holding out his hand.

They shook and music history was reborn.



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Friday Fictioneers 2-28-2019


“Thoreau? Wasn’t he in Maine or something?”

“Massachusetts, actually.”

“So he didn’t have a thing in New Mexico?”

“No thing.”

“No Deli?”


“So what did he have?”

“Walden’s Pond.”

“He sold Coors from a pond?”

“No. He was a writer and philosopher learning to live a simpler life. It’s a famous book.”

“Red Mountain Market and Deli?”


“The book.”

“No. Walden’s Pond.”

“So New Mexico must have been really different for him.”

“He didn’t……. yes, I’m sure New Mexico was a shock after Walden’s Pond.”

“Cool. I didn’t know Grant had a tire store….”


Friday Fictioneers 2-22-2019

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“Don’t you think the gold-edged rose are a bit much?”

“She likes gold.”

“In necklaces. earring, bars, yes, but not roses.”

“You think?”


 “Okay.” Dan rubbed his nose. “Damn, guess I have to run back to the flower store.”

“Might be wise.”

He pulled out his keys. “Think I can take them back?”

“Flowers, no.”

Dan looked at Matt. “Thanks.”

“Just trying to help.”

With a frown, Dan headed out to his truck and drove away.

Matt looked at the roses for a moment, then picked up the vase. He walked next door and knocked. Sally answered.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.”

Friday Fictioneers 2-14-2019

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

The building looked like a castle from the very first moment he looked up, up, up.

“Do kings and queens live here?”

“I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“Don’t they live in castles?”

A pause which meant she was getting tired of  questions.

“Don’t they?”

“All the Kings and Queens are dead.”


“Because they all died in battles with swords and spears… and old age.”

“But why would they die of old age in a battle?”

“Michael, please!”

He looked up, up, up. A castle. Kings and Queens.

Was that a face in a window?

Friday Fictioneers 1-31-2019

PHOTO PROMPT © Renee Heath
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The colored-blanket sky stretched out around him, weighting him down and back to earth. He liked the soft plushness of it; the tingling hint of chill creeping around the edges of the horizon. Out here he was so totally alone he was alien. Nothing else existed.

The hills reminded him of the Blue Ridge he’d left so long ago, back when he could barely remember. His cell lay on another chair, ever silent. No cell signal. No calls.

His ‘fuck-you’ to  the world.

Tomorrow it would fuck him back.

Friday Fictioneers 7-2-2018

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

He sat frowning, frustrated, staring at the small workstation stuck in the corner of the room. It wasn’t like he couldn’t write here, but the lack of space, and freedom, irked his sense of creativity.

Picking up a guitar, he stepped onto the balcony and settled into a chair, strumming softly. Singing softer, words for his ears only.

The sky was bright blue, fluffed with clouds. A breeze nuzzled his hair and, for the first time in days, he was content.

Music rolled off his fingers, words from his tongue. Angels bending down around him, whispering in his ear.