Friday Fictioneers 1-3-2020

Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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The house was dark, empty of the long forgotten sounds of life. Had it been dark when the family lived there or had it been filled with light and love and laughter?

He touched the yellow crayon with a finger-tip; lifted up the fragile photograph of the man. Had he ever seen him before? Face all angles; body skin over bones; the living dead?

What if the phone rang, calling for somebody who no longer existed?

Outside the thump of boots, the “Alles Klar?”

He let go of the picture. It fluttered to the floor, a bird with broken wings.

“Alles Klar.”


Please excuse my translated German if it is grammatically incorrect. The phrase is “All Clear?”

It’s Never Too Early For Halloween.

ready-for-halloween-quotes-2

Linus: [writing] Dear Great Pumpkin, I am looking forward to your arrival on Halloween night. I hope you will bring me lots of presents.

Linus: Each year, the Great Pumpkin rises out of the pumpkin patch that he thinks is the most sincere. He’s gotta pick this one. He’s got to. I don’t see how a pumpkin patch can be more sincere than this one. You can look around and there’s not a sign of hypocrisy. Nothing but sincerity as far as the eye can see.

It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown is my favorite Halloween book of all times. Having kids meant we got all sorts of Halloween books – Pumpkin books, ghost books, witches book, monster books. All cute and funny, but not the Great Pumpkin. If you have never read the book or seen the TV show, you needs to attend to that loss right now.

You wouldn’t want to miss the Great Pumpkin now, would you?

Linus is my favorite Charlie Brown character.  Most times, he is a wise man in a child’s body. Other times, as with the Great Pumpkin, he is a little boy clinging to his belief even in the face of his friends laughter and teasing. That, after all, is what faith is, right? The inner knowledge which allows one to believe in something magical or religious even in the face of laughter and/or guns.  Or both.

I know the Great Pumpkin isn’t real. We all know that. I think even Linus knows that truth but he still keeps the faith each year, sitting in the Pumpkin Patch waiting – believing – this time the Great Pumpkin will come.

I like the thought that somewhere a little boy is waiting in a dark pumpkin patch every Halloween, waiting for this miracle to rise up before him and reward his faith. How many of us could do that year after year when the miracle never arrives?

If, by chance, in your holiday travels, you come across a small boy with a blanket sitting in a pumpkin patch on Halloween, say hello for me. Tell him, if he keeps the faith, –  if we all keep the faith – something magical just might happen.

And who’s to say there isn’t a Great Pumpkin after all?

Friday Fictioneers 5-7-2019

PHOTO by Roger Bultot

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“We’re going to be late for the funeral,” Susan nagged, pulling her coat tighter around her body.

His forebrain heard ‘blah,blah, blah, blah,’ but somewhere in the back of his mind, in the small primitive reptile brain, she was heard.

“I don’t know if that is how they do it,” it said because the primitive brain knew how to protect.

‘Who?”

“Do Jews have funerals?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.”

“Wouldn’t it be Allah’s sake?”

Rolling her eyes, she stormed away.

“What,” he asked, bewildered.

 

 

 

 

 

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.

“Yes….”

Closer.

“Hummmm…”

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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