Category Archives: Fiction

Short Fiction

Residue Magic

PHOTO PROMPT © Amanda Forestwood

“It’s a magical stairway to the land of Faerie.”

Those moss-covered stones rising steeply up to destinations unknown did look magical, but she never let me take them.

Although she was bent and walked at a snail’s pace, Nana had a bit of magic of her own behind that twinkle in her eye.  The world took on a different tone when I was around her.

I stood looking up those steps, recognizing the street above.

I closed my eyes and remembered them through Nana’s eyes.

I shook my head.  I wouldn’t take that stairway and ruin her illusion. Not today.

***

word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo by @ © Amanda Forestwood. If you want to join or see other stories, go to the inlinkz linkup.

***

I’ve been ultra busy late, so missed last week. I can’t promise I’ll be able to hit everyone’s story this week :( But I’ll try.

The Magical Book

PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast

“Ack, it’s smoky in here!  Why’d she light a fire in the summer? Where is she?”

“She’s right there, doodling in her journal, as always… Oh.”

“Better writing than talking to that weird old guy, but she isn’t here. Her journal is, though.”

“What are you doing?  That’s her private thoughts!”

“Look at this!  This is just filled with gibberish and senseless scribbles.”

“Hmm, maybe not senseless…”

“This is the last entry. I wonder what it means?”

“Repeat the words the wizard spoke
Grow thin and turn to dusty smoke
Then to their surprise
Up the chimney you will rise”

***

word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo by @ © Jennifer Pendergastn. If you want to join or see other stories, go to the inlinkz linkup.

A World Beyond Realism

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

“I always thought Wile E. Coyote was an underrated artist.”

I laughed.

“No, really.  Not only can the roadrunner enter a tunnel he’s drawn, but a truck can come out.”

I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to laugh at this, so I just studied the mural on the building and nodded.

“Here, look at this one,” she said, pointing to another building.

A deep forest turned into a sky full of geese. 

“Cool painting,” I said.

She smiled, stepped into the mural, and was soon lost in the forest.

That is when I noticed the signature.

“Wile E. Coyote”

***

word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo by @ © Dale Rogerson. If you want to join or see other stories, go to the inlinkz linkup.

…Sailors Take Warning

PHOTO PROMPT © Brenda Cox

The pink clouds of morning were reflected in the millpond smooth water.  An outrigger towed a party boat far out between the islands.

I closed my laptop and moved inland, the conversation flowing through my head.

“All reports are for a major storm.  Satellite shows it will hit soon.”

“You’re crazy, it is a beautiful day.”

“Yes, here and now, but it is coming. This is science.”

He laughed.  “You and your silly Western superstition you call ‘science’. I trust my senses.  Next you’ll say ‘red in the morning…’ Ha!”

The first band moved through, causing the trees to bend.

***

word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo by @ © Brenda Cox. If you want to join or see other stories, go to the inlinkz linkup.

Now I am the Master

PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

It was a place where myth met history.  I was proud to be looking up at the ancient buildings.

I had heard stories of when the place was full of life.  Servants and magistrates scurrying across the brick courtyard, scattering the children at play.

Now it was empty.

Empty, but it was as if they had left a few minutes ago.  I expected to see a person at one of the doorways, offering a treat.

It had only been two years since the great plague.  Seems like a lifetime.

I wagged my tail and barked, so happy to be there.

***

The picture seems to be taken from a dog-eyed point of view, or a very small child. I’m assuming the camera was about two feet off of the ground.

So the story.

***

word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo by @ © David Stewart. If you want to join or see other stories, go to the inlinkz linkup.

When Butterflies Turn to Eagles

PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox

The coffeehouse was crowded for a Wednesday. 

I eyed the empty mic and stool in a corner under the 20-foot-tall windows.

The hot nightspot was in an ancient, converted mill, as was the rest of the pedestrian-only street.  My wife called the music usually heard there “folk for hipsters”.  It had hosted nationally known acts.

The lone stool looked so vulnerable, sitting on its own.  I walked over to it and offered a few words of comfort to the poor piece of furniture.

I sat, picked up my guitar and said, “I wrote a few songs. I hope you enjoy…”

***

word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo by @ © Lisa Fox. If you want to join or see other stories, go to the inlinkz linkup.

Deep Time…

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Imagine, people have been walking these streets for 8000 years!

+ Not these streets.  The city has been built and rebuilt multiple times in those years.

Sure, but there have been people right here during those years.

+ Here?  The Earth rotates, the sun orbits the galaxy, the galaxy moves, the…

I mean this place on Earth.  It makes you think.  We are just flitting through while people have been here for hundreds of generations.  You seem to have no concept of “Deep Time”.

+ Me?  I talk about billions of years, you talk thousands.

That’s why I hate traveling with an astrophysicist!

***

word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo by @ © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to join or see other stories, go to the inlinkz linkup.

Own Medicine

PHOTO PROMPT © Amanda Forestwood

Edvard had the sound in his head, but how was he to get it onto parchment?  The Norwegian Hardanger fiddle had five resonant strings that gave a sparkle to every note, picking up the harmonics of the melody and amplifying it in a way to create an ethereal fairytale effect.

To ensure he had the sound just right, he invited a group of folk musicians to an early rehearsal of his incidental music for the folktale inspired play.

At the end, a stony-faced man turned to him and said, “It is pretty good, but perhaps a bit fast.”

Edvard smiled.

***

A few comments – the instrument in the photo is a Norwegian Hardanger fiddle. Besides the inlays in the wood, you can see the difference between a violin with all of those tuning pegs – besides the four violin strings, there are four (as in this case) or five resonant strings.

Edvard Grieg was highly influenced by Norwegian folk music. He tried to recreate the sound of traditional instruments, including the Hardanger fiddle. This can really be seen in the incidental music he wrote for the play “Peer Gynt”.

Liszt was a champion of Grieg. One time when they met, Liszt sight played Grieg’s piano concerto, including an on-the-spot transcription of the full orchestra along with the solo piano part! Hint, no other pianist could sight read an orchestral score, and the piano solo on its own was difficult for most pianists. After the applause of Liszt’s small audience died down, Grieg suggested that he had played the first movement a little faster than it should have been…

OK, it took more words to explain the joke than to tell it ;)

***

word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo by @ © Amanda Forestwood. If you want to join or see other stories, go to the inlinkz linkup.

Sympathy for the Joker

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

Life has always dealt me a strange card.  In fact, Since I was a child, I suspected that the deck was stacked against me.

No, doctor, I’m not complaining.

It’s just that, every time things start to go my way, I turn over the next card and it is always, ALWAYS, well, you know.  Hint: it is never aces.

Yeah, he caught me again and that is just my luck.  I should have won, but another trick of the cards.

Yes, doctor, I know the routine.  I’ve been here before.

But despite the winged vigilante, I will be free soon…

***

word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo by @ © Liz Young. If you want to join or see other stories, go to the inlinkz linkup.

**

Yes, the title is a play on that Rolling Stones song… And, yes, the MC is a famous cartoon character turned movie star, played by many people from Jack to Heath to Joaquin (another Jack?) (of course, everyone loves Cesar…)

Chess #writephoto

Photo by KL Caley

Oswald stood at the window, stroking his strawberry blond beard as Eathwing gave the field report.  A casual observer might think he wasn’t paying attention, but Eathwing knew that the king’s mind was taking it all in and planning the next move.  Although known as a hot tempered man, Eathwing knew that this king was perhaps the greatest strategist of his generation.  That was how he, starting as a thane of a small town, now had one of the largest kingdoms on the isles. 

When the report was finished, Oswald swung around, eyes flashing under the flaming red eybrows.

“Gather the knights and let them know we ride at dawn with me at their head.  We will join the siege of Domnall’s sea fortress.  I feel it is about to fall and if I ride there, it will surely topple.  That is the last defence on the sea route, so if it falls, Domnall the White will not be able to withstand our advance.  We will have him yet!”

“A squad of Domnall’s best foot soldiers stand between us and our men on the siege.”

“Those pawns?  My knights will wipe them out!  We will taste victory!”

Eathwing nodded.  “As you wish, sire.”

“Dismissed.”

After talking to general of the king’s knights, Eathwing went down to the deepest dungeon, the one others called “The Wizards Coop”.  Making sure nobody saw, we went into a secret side room.  A giant chessboard was set up, a game in progress.

Eathwing waved his hand.  The red king and one of the red knights lined up against a white castle and three white pawns.

He scanned the board.  Yes, if they took out the pawns and the castle they’d have the white king in check, but could they force a checkmate?

It all depended on how Domnall moved his own men.

Oswald the Red may be on the right track, but this game of chess was not over quite yet.

***

This was written for the writephoto challenge that is hosted by KL Caley. The photo at the top was given by KL, as well as the key word, “Chess”. Hope you enjoyed :)