The Wall

Welcome to this week’s edition of Friday Fictioneers. The goal is to write a complete story using 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. This week’s story is a rework of a longer piece I wrote a year ago. I don’t know what is more challenging; writing a completely new story or editing a longer story so it maintains the essence of the original. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this challenge and J Hardy Carroll for this week’s photograph. If you would like to add your own story, or read other stories like this, head to Rochelle’s Friday’s Fictioneers.

Photo Credit: J. Hardy Carroll

Ziggy sat on the edge of the couch, mesmerized by empty space between the steeple clock on the mantel and the ceiling above. Her tail twitched as a guttural growl erupted from deep inside her throat. Ziggy’s odd behavior concerned her owner Charlotte. A recent bee sting had sent her daughter Adeline into anaphylactic shock. Another occurrence could be deadly.

Placing Adeline against her shoulder, Charlotte examined the wall. Relieved to find nothing there, Charlotte turned her back to the clock, facing Ziggy.

“Silly cat. There is nothing….”

Charlotte’s words were cut short by Adeline’s screams of terror.

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Ben Revisited

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 Sandra Crook  for this week’s photo prompt.  

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Ben flattened his body into the corner, desperate to blend into the wall. Before long, the invaders would claw their way into the room.

If only I had killed the first rat that invaded the garden shed, Ben thought. Winter was oddly cold this year and kind-hearted Ben knew the varmint wanted to stay warm. One nest would not matter.

Ben did not take into consideration biology. When the shed could no longer hold the hoard of rats, they looked for a new home.

And food.

Ben begged for madness as he noticed the whiskers chomping on the wooden door.

 

 

Getaway

PHOTO PROMPT © JS Brand

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. 

The Unimaginable (Friday Fictioneers)

Photo Credit: J. Hardy Carroll

My view of the world changed April 19, 1995.

“There’s smoke coming from downtown”, someone yelled.  

A plume of black smoke billowed on the horizon. Rumors flew: a gas leak caused an explosion at the YMCA. Something explainable. Something I could wrap my mind around. We made stupid jokes, not knowing better. We hoped everyone was all right.

Moments later we learned a different truth. 

The truck bomb that exploded in downtown Oklahoma City obliterated the entire front of the building, causing major damage for 16-blocks. 168 deaths, including 19 children.

 I had no basis for imagining such horror. 

Not exactly fiction, this is a snippet from a larger piece I wrote about the Oklahoma City Bombing. My husband and his best friend were  fire fighters who worked the bombing. Neither were unscathed by the experience. 

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 J. Hardy Carroll for this week’s prompt.

Fright Night (Friday Fictioneers)

Photo Credit: Roger Bultot

Lydia, are you sure you know where you are going?

Alice lives on Togas Pond, a five-minute drive from downtown Augusta yet Lydia, my GPS, has directed me into the middle of Nowhere Maine.

Never trust technology with a British accent.

Lydia tells me to turn left onto a dark, gravel road. Near the end, a streetlamp shines on a lone house.

I’ve seen plenty of horror movies and refuse to get out until I know it is the right place.

Alice waves from the front door. I can’t help wondering if there are seed pods hidden in the shed.

 

 

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 Roger Bultot for this week’s prompt.

 

Fear of the Dark (Friday Fictioneers)

Photo Prompt by Rochelle Wisoff–Fields

Kerri stared down the dark, narrow alleyway. What to do?

She left the party on foot, needing to clear her head. Now tired, all she wanted was to sleep off the effects of the alcohol. The alley was a shortcut.

Decision made.

Halfway through, Kerri stopped. Were those footsteps behind her? Overwhelmed by fear, Kerri quicken her pace. The pounding footfall  of her pursuer echoed in her ears. Reaching the exit safely, a defiant Kerri turned around, and saw nothing in the darkness.

That is when she felt the wire across her neck, slowly tightening.

 

This story was inspired by a photo prompt posted on Friday Fictioneer’s June 30, 2017, , a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less. Photo Prompt provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

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Sunday Photo Fiction: Dinner in the Garden

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a short story (200 word max) inspired by a photograph. This week’s photo is provided by John Brand of  a lovely English garden. What could possibly go wrong?  

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@John Brand

“Donavan! Shush! … I hear something.”

Emma sat at the foot of the old brick wall decorating mud pies with the tiny rose-tinted flowers fallen from the cherry tree. Her brother Donavan was laying on his stomach, pushing toy cars along the dirt road constructed out of the loamy soil. His loud ZOOM! ZOOM! annoyed Emma, who had stopped to listen to a peculiar sound. It sounded like a voice, coming from the other side of the wall that separated Auntie’s yard from the Finch’s next door.

Emma thought it odd that just one side of the yard had been walled off. Auntie would not say why, just something about needing to keep things out.

As she placed her ear to the wall, Emma noticed a crevice filled with creeping ivy coming from the Finch’s yard. The voice grew louder. “Gray” it seemed to say.

Donavan, tired of his play and Emma’s bossing, rested his back against a tall, ivy-covered planter.

“Emma, I think I think I hear….

Too late to warn her brother, Emma could only stare in horror as the deadly vine devoured Donavan. No need to guess what the voice was saying. It clearly said, ‘I’m hungry.’”

Memory Unleashed (Sunday Photo Fiction)

A little late for last week but the story has been floating in my head so might as well give it a home.  A little dark and disturbing, so consider yourself warned.

photo credit @Mixed Bag

“Make yourself comfortable,” the doctor says.

I lie down on the overstuffed couch, listening to her soothing voice and the tick-tock of the pendulum clock on the wall. As she speaks, the years of my life pass like a film in reverse.

“How old are you?” the doctor asks?

“Five.”

“And, where are you?”

“At the carnival. Mommy took me and Charlotte because Daddy was mad.”

“What do you see?”

I smile. “The merry-go-round. I climb into the Viking ship and wave at mommy. The music starts and I am going around and around and up and down. Mommy is laughing and waving.

“Where’s Charlotte?”

I frown. “She is in the carriage.”

“What happens next.”

“I yell ‘Mommy, watch me!’ But she is looking at Charlotte, laughing.

“Continue Michael, what happens next?”

“I don’t want to.”

“But you must.”

“Mommy is screaming, Charlotte is not moving; her face is blue and I am crying.”

“Why are you crying Michael?”

“Because mommy loves Charlotte more than me. “

“Michael, what happened to Charlotte?”

I killed her you bitch, what do you think happened.

“Michael?”

I open my eyes and smile.

“Michael is gone. It’s just me now.”

 

Sunday Photo Fiction April 9, 2017

 

 

 

Sunday Photo Fiction: The Empty Space

Siggy sat on the arm of the chair, mesmerized by empty space between the old steeple clock on the mantel and the ceiling above. Her tail switched fiercely and a guttural growl erupted from deep inside her throat.

“What are you looking at Siggy-cat?” Tom and Charlotte loved their foster kitten and secretly hoped she would become a permanent fixture in their home. But at times, her strange behavior was hard to understand. Like seeing the most minuscule bug crawling on the wall and hearing noises no one else heard.

Charlotte sat on the sofa across from the fireplace, feeding her 6-month old daughter, Agnes. Siggy’s odd behavior gave Charlotte pause. A few weeks ago, a bee sting sent Agnes into anaphylactic shock and her pediatrician warned that another occurrence could be deadly. Noticing Tom, as usual, had his nose in a book, Charlotte placed Agnes at her shoulder and walked across the room to look for herself.

Siggy continued to growl but a quick glance at the wall proved nothing was there. Relieved, Charlotte turned her back to the clock. “Siggy, you silly cat. There is nothing….”

Her words were cut short by Agnes’ screams of terror.

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Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a short story (200 word max) inspired by a photograph. This week’s photo is provided by Jade M Wong  and was inspired by my real-life cat, Siggy, who really does seem to see things no one else sees. Maybe those empty spaces are not so empty after all.  

Enjoy!

The Invitation

The invitation to the Brockman twin’s bridal show arrived in a pretty, pink envelope with tiny butterflies stamped in the bottom right corner. Silva did not find it strange that Amber and Amy decided to share a bridal shower on the same day. After all, the twins did everything together. They were like two peas in a pod, enshrined in an invisible bubble that kept everyone out. Still, Silva had known them both her entire life and this shower would surely be one that no one ever forgot.