Friday Fictioneers 8-18-2017

If she hadn’t been able to see past the door, she might have imagined there another world in there. A deep forest or an endless horizon of sand. Might have imagined a dark knight on a white horse, a cackling witch or a castle looming in the distance.

She could, however, see beyond to the shower curtain and her purple poof. Just her boring bathroom. Her boring life.

A thump sounded in the bathroom.

She stilled.

Another.

“Hello?”

No reply.

Took two steps.

“Hello?”

Thump.

Two more steps.

A peek inside.

Darkness.

The scent of wet leaves…….

 

Friday Fictioneers 8-12-2017

PHOTO PROMPT© CEAyr


He balanced on the flat rock, looking into the uppermost round hole.

“What?” Becky asked, pulling on the tattered hem of his shirt. “What?” Anxious. Excited.

“Fairies.”

“What! Let me see!” She pulled his shirt again.

“They’re wearing pink tutus.”

“I don’t believe you.” Hands on hips.

He stepped down.  “Look for yourself.”

Becky scrambled up onto the rock, standing on tip-toes to peer into the hole.

“I don’t see anything,” she complained.

“Look closer.”

She squinted her eyes. Squealed. “I see them!  I see them!”

“What?” He pushed up beside her. “Where!”

Laughing, she jumped down and ran away.

 

 

Friday Fictioneer’s 7-26-2017



The Phone Call

He stood in the large tiled room, nervously watching the phone on the wall as if it might attack. Would it ring? Would it not?

His fingers twisted nervously before him, knuckles white. Ring, damn it!

Oh god, please don’t ring! Please!

Jumped at the sound of footsteps outside. They faded away.

Ring! Please!

The phone hung silent, cruelly refusing his pleas.

Ring, damn it! Ring!

His hands covered his eyes, willing the phone to obey. Willing it silent.

What if it rang? What if it didn’t?

He sat terrified, knuckles white as snow.

 

 

Friday Fictioneers 7-1-2017

I’d greatly appreciate some feedback on this one.

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Home

The street was cobbled, narrow, splashed with sun and shadow. I heard the distant tolling of St. Andrews ricocheting through blood and bone and marrow, sea songs deep where I had no control.

It was death I heard calling.

I stepped into the shadows, walking to the land of bones. Sun. Shadow. Sun. Shadow. Sun. Sea salt and brine. Nowhere else to run.

Drowning in air.

I felt the pain before I heard the shot.

Sand. Fish-rough hands. A hand grasping my shoulder.

The sea always calls home its own.

Pappa.

Falling, drifting, far out beyond land. The land of bones.

 

Friday Fictioneers 6-23-2017

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz


“Are we ever going to get on the damned ferry?” John asked.

“Not if you keep swearing.”

“What? Swearing stops traffic?”

“Maybe,” Joe sighed, staring out the windshield at the tail lights ahead, grey sky above. Wishing…. nothing.

They crept closer and closer, finally pulling on and into their designated parking spot.

“I’m going up for a hot dog. Want anything?”

Joe shook his head. There was nothing on board he wanted. Not anymore. Luc was gone. There was no home left.

Following John onto the deck, he stood at the rail, fantasizing about leaping overboard.

Friday Fictioneers 6-12-2017


PHOTO PROMPT © Karuna

Better Late Than Never

Daniel knelt,  arms folded across his knees, staring at the charred toys. When he closed his eyes, the images from Rwanda overwhelmed him.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

A hand touched his shoulder. If he’d come home earlier would this have happened?

He rose slowly, turned to his wife.

“You are not there anymore.”

“I know.”

“Houses can be replaced.”

“I know.” His eyes trailed over her shoulder, to the policeman by his cop car. He couldn’t see into the car.

Entwining fingers, they turned away from the rubble, walking towards the policeman, two children spilling out of the car towards them. Scopping them up, the family walked on, away from the past, into the future.


 

Friday Fictioneers 5-25-2017

sunrise-ff-bannerPHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

j-hardy-rubble
They stood in the doorway, looking at the ruins of the classroom. Just yesterday it had been filled with the shriek and laughter of a dozen children.

“Damn arsonist!”

“For sure?”

“Pretty. Have to wait for the site to cool.”

The Detective scowled. “Least it happened at night. “

The Arson Investigator nodded.

Their eyes met. It was decided.

Tomorrow they would start collecting supplies for the new classroom.