Friday Fictioneers

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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?”

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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.

 

 

 

 

 

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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.

 

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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.

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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.

 

 

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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

PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

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

“Massachusetts, actually.”

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

“No thing.”

“No Deli?”

“No.”

“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?”

‘What?”

“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….”

 

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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?”

“Yeah.”

 “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.”

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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.”

“Why?”

“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?