Pansies – Friday Fictioneers

Thank you to everybody who took the time to read, like or comment on my debut Friday Fictioneers story last week. It’s now time for another! The challenge is to write a 100-word story or poem based on a weekly photo prompt chosen by our host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Check out her blog for more information by clicking here if you want to get involved. I wrote two this week and it was really difficult to choose between them. I am sure the one that lost out will have its day in the sun eventually. You can never have too many stories!

25 03 2016

PHOTO PROMPT – © Ted Strutz

Pansies

“Fucking pansy!” He shouted as his fist connected with my stomach, doubling me over. Hands held me in place as I stared into the porcelain abyss . I heard the chain being pulled then nothing but the roar of rushing water and muffled laughter.

“Better get used to being on your knees in a public toilet you fucking pansy.” He taunted, dumping out the contents of my rucksack.

I got home to find dad engrossed in another one of his repurposing projects.

“I thought we could use this old toilet as a planter.” He said excitedly. “What should we grow?”

“Pansies.”

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Ebb and Flow – Friday Fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly flash fiction challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields that inspires writers to create 100-word stories based on a photo prompt. I learned of its existence after reading Claire Fuller’s excellent debut novel Our Endless Numbered Days. This is my first attempt.

16 03 2016

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Ebb and Flow

Sometimes the worst part of watching a life end is your own reaction.

The river had become my only companion. Sometimes calm, other times enraged, but never fully trustworthy: my soulmate.

The lamb never stood a chance. Its hooves could get no purchase on the slick surface of the rock where it had become stranded. A memory appeared uninvited: the time we had to put one of Hannah’s cuddly toys through the washing machine after she had gotten sick.

The lifeless bundle of wool resurfaced and the river carried it off downstream. I took another sip of tea, feeling nothing.