Tag Archives: short short

A Hint, Please

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

The apartment building was obviously a pre-Columbian artifact.

Just inside the unlocked door was the row of mailboxes. No buzzers.  How quaint.

Number 4 was Maria Mordella. Perfect.

Just outside Number 4, I held out the single rose, but my left hand, hidden in my jacket, held my 9 mm.

After an age of the Universe, a lady opened the door.

She was older than the building.

“Ms. Mordella?” A nod.  “Complements.” I gave her the rose and left.

It was only after a 34-year-old Maria Mordella met an unfortunate accident that I discovered Cruella Mordella really was my target.

***

Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo © Roger Bultot. Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

A Faded Rose from Days Gone By

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

I remember her clearly, the oversized suitcase, the faded rose on her jacket.

Later, at the diner, I asked a local about her.

For at least 30 years she had gone down to the bus station daily and waited for her lover to come take her away.

Funny thing was that the dark-haired stranger had jilted her long before, back in the 1950s.  She had waited patiently for him until she was 41 and began the crazy ritual.

I saw her the next day, the spring beauty just beneath the snowy old surface.

I wonder if she is still waiting?

***

Some of you (if you are old enough) may recognize this as coming from the song Delta Dawn (or try this if you like Tanya better than Helen), only I set it 30 years later, say 2003, when poor Dawn is in her 70s, not her 40s (the song says 41).

***

Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo © Dale Rogerson. Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

Cold Storage

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

It was not a job I was looking forward to!

Aunt Margret was always more than a bit eccentric, and she had that side to her which, well, let’s just say that more than one family member said they were happy she never had any children.

Her storage unit, which was my responsibility, was not pleasant.

Damn, I’d have to call the county about disposing of hazardous waste. And what was up, did she rob a pharmacy?

So there’s her dog Baxter!

What did that say on the mail package, something about remains?

We always wondered where Uncle Harry went…

***

Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo © Ted Strutz. Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

Escape?

PHOTO PROMPT © Alicia Jamtaas

They are coming!

Shhhh.  Close your eyes.

I can’t sleep with them out there!

This bit of woods is special, a fairy forest.

Their guns are real, not fantasy!

Shhh.  They are fairies of light, of good.  The magic is powerful, but you need to believe.

Believe?  Now?

They have a trail in the trees, one our enemy can’t see, because they are rough and can’t believe. You need to believe.

I hear them!

Close your eyes and see.  We can catch the rail, escape.

But…

Shhh. Close your eyes.  Do you see?

Yes…

“Stop, or we’ll shoot!”

Let’s go.

***

Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo © Alicia Jamtaas. Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

**

Remember – You do have to believe, keep that hope alive, even if you’ve reached the end of the track….

Appointed #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

It seemed that every time I opened the door they were there.  They followed me when I walked and even when I drove.  They were everywhere.  And, no, it wasn’t just my imagination since a few people commented on it.

The wings were beginning to drive me crazy.  Why was I being shadowed so?

We all know what happened next, and the less said, the better.

Yep, lucky me, I was a survivor.  A one in perhaps ten million survivor.

Only it wasn’t luck.

As I explored the new, emptier world, I still had my constant companions. The wings stopped bothering me and became welcome.

The world was not just emptier, it was lonelier and so I tried to communicate with my new “friends”.  I slowly began to understand them.

No, it wasn’t luck.

I discovered that I was the region’s appointed survivor.

They knew it was coming and wanted a representative human to keep around for a while.  You know, as a warning. 

For some reason, they chose me.

Continue reading

Flushing it All Away

PHOTO PROMPT © Trish Nankivell

“It’s cheap, industrial grade sandpaper bought in bulk.”

“Yes, but it is a cost on our budget, and someone is stealing it.”

I shook my head in disbelief.  Why would anybody steal the cheap toilet paper from the office bathroom?  But the evidence was there.

“Ok, lock it up even tighter.  And I thought keeping pens in stock would be hard…”

We found out soon enough that it didn’t matter how secure it was since Mr. Thornbill had access to all of the keys.

He also made over $200,000 a year.

I never figured out why he flushed his career.

***

Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo © Trish Nankivell. Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

**

Years ago someone at work was stealing TP. I don’t think they caught the thief, btu everyone knew the person doing it most likely made 3 times what the average American made. I always wondered why they risked their super high salary and nice career for the nastiest TP on the face of the Earth…. (If you didn’t notice, there is a lock on the roll in the photo…)

Joined

PHOTO PROMPT © Marie Gail Stratford

He set his water bottle down where there should have been wine and bread.  The hymnal in the liturgist’s chair had been untouched for almost a year.

On the other side of the room, across the empty pews, Marge sat at the piano.  Her eyes crinkled in a smile. He nodded and she began to play that traditional song.

He watched the screen as ‘Chelle joined Floyd in one little square.

Bob did a silent countdown with his fingers, 5,4,3…

At “one” he took off his mask, smiled at Bob and his camera.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

***

Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo © Marie Gail Stratford. Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

Return #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

It’s getting cold, very cold.

I look up at the dark ridge where I last saw him silhouetted against the sinking sun.

It continues to scream its emptiness.

I had always heard that he was the type to hold a grudge, so was a little surprised when he called me. After a nice, amicable chat we decided to go hiking in the mountains.  We both loved getting out into the fresh air, though I had to admit that he was a better, stronger hiker.

He drove us out into deep wilderness.  Perfect.  We didn’t see a person all day.

I have no idea what happened.  The day had been long and I was very tired.  Making mistakes. Having a hard time with footing.

Continue reading

Making of the News

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

There they were, just as I’d seen them a thousand times on TV, only now they were right in front of me.

It had been easier to get onto the set than I ever imagined.  Sure, it was a local studio in Podunk, but you’d think it would be tighter.

They were local celebrities, all right.  They went to all of the events and such.  People watched them every night.

And for what?

They called it “news”.  More like mainstream lies and Deep State propaganda.

Tonight, people would get real news.

I took aim and waited for the right moment.

***

Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

Empty Stage

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

It was great!  After many years of struggle and hard work, they were finally an “overnight success”, the unknown band tearing up the charts.  All they had to do was a tour to support their debut album, and all was gold.

“Did you read the news?”

“It’s getting worse.”

“Boston just cancelled.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not a big college town…”

“Ha ha, Mr. Spinal Tap…”

“What are we going to do?”

“We’re no longer on the Billboard top 100.”

“Sorry guys, we’ll have to cancel the tour.”

“And we thought 2020 would be our year to hit the big time?”

***

Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo © Dale Rogerson. Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

**

OK, cliche for the day, but I did want to get that Spinal Tap reference in a FF story for so long, so… ;)

Also, I may not be able to visit in the next few days. Sorry. I’ll try, but ultra-busy at work