Friday Fictioneers is a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this challenge and Jill Wiscoff for this week’s prompt. My story this week is a bit dark, much like the night sky in the photograph.
Photo Credit: Jill Wiscoff
April no longer knew what to do, so she did nothing but watch the empty darkness of the Manhattan skyline from her apartment window.
How can they go on as if nothing is wrong, she thought?
Don’t they know the world is not a safe place?
Gun violence.
Gang violence.
Terrorism.
She had not always felt this way.
Once she was like them.
Bold. A free spirit.
Unaware of the dangers one faced when walking out their front door.
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this challenge and Karen Rawson for this week’s prompt.
They called him Mr. Lucky, a hackneyed moniker granted Ray for wriggling out of tight spots. Ray credited the rabbit’s foot he carried for his good fortune.
Once, Ray almost stopped believing in luck. For days, he had tromped through the mucky Louisiana bayou, in search of civilization. On the verge of hopelessness, Ray discovered crude stairs leading up the hill to a house. A human silhouette stood in front of the window.
Mr. Lucky smiled. What’s another dead body when you have two life sentences hanging over your head?
He never noticed dropping his rabbit’s foot in the muck.
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this challenge and Jan Wayne Fields for this week’s prompt. I was beginning to think I couldn’t come up with anything this week but then a small spark of inspiration led to exchange below.
“Remember that old TV show Fantasy Island?”
“The one with the little guy that yelled out ‘da plane, da plane when the guests arrived?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. I thought we could binge watch it this weekend.”
“Nah., I think I would rather watch Twin Peaks.”
“Is that the one about the homecoming queen being murdered in a small town? I’m down for that.”
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this challenge and Douglas M. MacIlroy for this week’s prompt.
Everyone in the small Texas town loved J.D. McCaskill.
J.D. was what you’d call a good-old boy. Whenever a neighbor needed a hand, J.D. was first to offer his. Once he loaned his brand-new truck to a stranger who needed to haul some hay. And if you ever crossed one of his friends; well, you’d better watch out.
J. D’s life was an open book. Married 30 years to wife Elaine, father of five fine boys. No surprises.
Yep, everyone loved J.D. Everyone except that 17-year old girl chained up in his cellar. She might have different story to tell.
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this challenge and Yarnspinner for this week’s prompt.
I froze, eyes fixed on the ramshackle yellow house in front of me. Fifth-graders sniggered, calling us sissies, but fourth-graders knew the Boogeyman lived in that house. My eyes shifted downward, to the papers and books splattered on the sidewalk, dropped in my haste to race past the house. As I squatted to gather my belonging, I heard a car engine. Looking up, I saw the open garage door, brake lights flashing red as blood. Slowly, the car inched toward me.
I was never so glad to be in fourth grade. A third-grader would have peed herself.
This tale is based loosely on a an experience I had in elementary school. There was an old house that I passed on my way to-and-from school, and there was a mysterious rumor about the old man living there. One day, on my way home, I dropped my papers in front of his house (full disclosure; I was on the opposite side of the street and there were four lanes of traffic between him and me). When I saw his car backing out of the driveway, I hastily picked up my belongings and rushed home. Dry as a whistle, I might add.
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this challenge and Björn Rudberg for this week’s prompt.
Looking back, all the signs were there; the last-minute cancellations and unanswered phone calls. The hint of lavender on his collar after working late.
After discovering the truth, I knew I must step carefully, and choose my path wisely.
There is an old proverb, opportunity knocks only once.
The news his car swerved off a mountain road left us in shock. How could such a good driver lose control?
At his funeral, I held his mother’s hand and cried.
Inside I smirked with the realization that I chose well when I picked auto-mechanics as an elective in high school.
Friday Fictioneer is a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this challenge and J.Hardy Carroll for this week’s prompt.
‘So, your Dad was a boxer?’ Mark turned to see Cecilia wiping away a tear.
‘Nah, he never boxed. Said he was too slow. But he loved the sport. Mantequilla was his idol.”
Across the street stood the old building owned by her father. It was his American dream-come-true. Then ICE came, banishing him from his home of 30 years.
‘Do you think you will be able to carry on his legacy? What do you know about running a business?”
Cecilia squeezed her husband Mark’s hand.
“I know enough,” said Cecilia. “I am my father’s daughter.”
Friday Fictioneer’s is a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this challenge and Dale Rogerson for this week’s prompt.
“Maggie, did I ever tell you about the time my son…”
Danny tuned his mother out. Another awkward childhood story meant to embarrass him in front of his date.
And her name was Margaret, not Maggie.
Outside the snow accumulated. He could blame the weather for cutting the evening short.
Noticing the sudden silence, Danny realized his mother was gone.
“She said something about bathtub baby pictures.” Margaret smiled in response to his horrified look.
Across the table, his sister laughed.
“You’d best hope she forgot where she put your circumcision ring.”
Danny sighed, wishing he was anywhere but here.
This story was inspired by my son and the mother I hope I will never be.
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this challenge and J.S. Brand for this week’s prompt.
GETAWAY
¿Cuántas habitaciones?
Marion strained to remember her high school Spanish.
“No comprendo. English, please.”
The young clerk’s leer sent chills up Marion’s spine.
“How many rooms?” His English was not good.
“Just one, just one night.” The boat captain’s recommendation for accommodations left Marion cold. She would see what else Guatemala had to offer tomorrow.
“900 pesos. $50 American”.
Marion turned her back. Inside her bag was $40,000.00 American cash. Dirty money.
“I put you next to the office, in case you need something.” The clerk leered again.
This was not the private island Marion had in mind.
Hitchcock fans may recognize this as a take on the classic movie Psycho. Marion Crane’s alternate universe takes her to Guatemala ( where the Hotel Henry Berrisford can be found.) No Norman Bates, but maybe someone just as evil. Or maybe its just her overactive imagination from guilt. I’ll let you decide.
Redbuds and Roserocks 