Graffiti – Friday Fictioneers

It’s Friday Fictioneers time! The challenge is to write a 100-word story in response to a weekly photo prompt chosen by our host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Follow the link to her blog for more information. Thank you to all who take the time to read, like, or comment.

2017 07 28

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Graffiti

Emblazoned across the station’s once beige tiles, a colourful scene was now depicted: A man stood with his trousers around his ankles, arm outstretched to deposit a coin into the public payphone. The artist had positioned the subject in such a way that if someone wanted to make use of the wall’s electrical socket, they would be forced to plug directly into the man’s naked backside. The crowd of onlookers wasted no time in obliging.

“Bloody kids,” the security guard muttered to the grey haired woman beside him.

“Quite,” she replied, smiling.

Her bag jangled softly as she walked away.

The Warlock – Friday Fictioneers

It’s Friday Fictioneers time! The challenge is to write a 100-word story in response to a weekly photo prompt chosen by our host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Follow the link to her blog for more information. Thank you to all who take the time to read, like, or comment.

2017 07 14

PHOTO PROMPT © Janet Webb

The Warlock

“A spell?” The Warlock said. “What does a boy like you want with a spell? Come, let me have a look at you”

He lifted down a heavy glass jar from a shelf. It appeared empty but was sealed with a large cork.

He shook the jar vigorously. A series of high pitched wails emanated from within.

“Pipe down that screaming; you’ll waste your oxygen,” he bellowed. “Now shine you no-good wretches!”

Upon his command, the jar burned briefly with a fierce brightness before settling down to a warm glow. He placed it on the table.

“Fairy lights,” he grinned.

I am – Friday Fictioneers

It’s Friday Fictioneers time! The challenge is to write a 100-word story in response to a weekly photo prompt chosen by our host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Follow the link to her blog for more information. Thank you to all who take the time to read, like, or comment.

HPIM0533.JPG

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

I am

I am insignificant.
I am the only thing I care about.

I am alone
In the company of all.

I have known more pain than many;
Less than most.

I do not know if love exists.
I trust that she does.
I do not know if God exists.
I hope that he doesn’t.

I can’t abide hypocrites.

I am selflessly selfish.
A martyr to my own cause.

I am a grain of sand.
Buried at the bottom of the pile, weeping
“Look at me now.”
I would climb to the top
To shout the same thing.

I am no poet.

Irrevocably Changed – Friday Fictioneers

It’s Friday Fictioneers time! The challenge is to write a 100-word story in response to a weekly photo prompt chosen by our host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Follow the link to her blog for more information. Thank you to all who take the time to read, like, or comment.

2017 06 16

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Irrevocably Changed

He reached for me. I hoped my flinch would be imperceptible. It wasn’t.

“Why won’t you let me get close to you?” He asked.

“You don’t know me,” I said. “I’ve done terrible things.”

He looked at me kindly; not with the scrutinising gaze I expected.

“These things,” he said. “Are you going to do them again?”

“I hope not.”

He pointed towards the full moon.

“Each time we see one of those, the world has irrevocably changed. Become the person you want to be; not the person you were.”

He reached for me again.

I surrendered to his touch.

Landslide – Friday Fictioneers

It’s Friday Fictioneers time! The challenge is to write a 100-word story in response to a weekly photo prompt chosen by our host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Follow the link to her blog for more information. Thank you to all who take the time to read, like, or comment.

2017 06 02.jpg

PHOTO PROMPT © Karuna

Landslide

I found the boy alone and afraid, where I knew he’d be. It was the same place I had been found at his age. Same pyjamas too. All those damn Quacks; what did they know?

He dropped his teddy as we evaded the landslide. That was different: mine had survived.

When we were finally safe, he fixed me with a look of pure adulation.

I slapped him, hard.

“You have to break the cycle,” I screamed. “You have to be better.”

I showed him my prison tattoos.

“Don’t grow into me. And if you do, don’t save the next one.”

Out of business – Friday Fictioneers

I’m playing Friday Fictioneers catch-up! Too late to add it to the link-up but I thought I’d write a story anyway – the photo was too good to let go! The challenge is to write a 100-word story in response to a weekly photo prompt chosen by our host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Follow the link to her blog for more information. Thank you to all who take the time to read, like, or comment.

2017 05 26

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Out of business

“This place is a mess,” I groaned.

“Yeah, the previous tenants got out pretty fast. Then the bailiffs arrived. Never seen a business go under so quickly,” he chuckled. “You’ll do fine though, boss.”

“You’ll clean it up?”

“Sure!” He flashed me a gold-toothed grin. Sign the lease, pay the deposit: it’ll be good as new.”

I nodded towards the old sign.

The Good News

A positive way to start your day!

“Some kind of hippie newspaper,” the landlord said. “Only printed ‘nice’ stories.”

He cleared his nose and spat.

“Gotta know your market.”

Disappearing Act – Friday Fictioneers

It’s Friday Fictioneers time! The challenge is to write a 100-word story in response to a weekly photo prompt chosen by our host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Follow the link to her blog for more information. Thank you to all who take the time to read, like, or comment.

2017 05 19

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Disappearing Act

His legs and lungs were on fire. He’d been running for fifteen minutes and they were still on his tail.

Manhattan was no place for a getaway. So damn busy! He couldn’t ‘port if someone was watching: his power required privacy.

Out of options, he burst through the door of a diner and headed for the restroom.

The cubicles were occupied and the startled man at the sink gawped at him.

Hearing shouts, he ducked behind the door as it was kicked open. It obscured him from view for just long enough. He was gone by the time it closed.