I told my grandmother, who lived in Michigan, that I was moving to Florida. That was three years ago. Every winter when I saw on the weather map that Michigan was getting hit hard and heavy with cold and snow I would call her and brag about it being seventy degrees outside. She would laugh and say “just you wait.”

My grandmother called today and asked how the weather was where I was in Florida.

She gave me my comeuppance.


This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a complete story with a beginning, middle, and end in 100 words or less. My story follows the picture prompt below.

It is their finished product. It gleams with excitement. Roger had tuned his guitar an hour earlier. John’s trumpet and French horn were waiting. The drums were taking a rest before Keith pounded them into submission. Dave had his piano ready to take directions from his flying fingers.

Now the seats are all empty. The last of the folding chairs are in place. This is the quiet before the storm. The lights will come up to welcome another show. Be it Detroit or Chicago who knows.

Having been some time in preparation a good time is guaranteed for all.

Where’s Carole

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.

PHOTO PROMPT © Trish Nankivell

Someone was knocking at the front door. He rose like a zombie to answer the summons. His feet moved without any direction from him. Until recently Carole would handle any interruptions from their quiet life. Until today.

Her fever had approached dangerous levels two days ago. Then came the lost of her taste buds. That was a devastating blow to her ego. She basked in the comments of her guests after one of her fantastic dinners.

It was their neighbor Mel.

“Where’s Carole”, he asked

The Green Pill

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a short story in 100 words or less with a beginning, middle and end using the picture prompt below.

Looking outside it looks festive, but I can’t really tell from where I stand.

There are twelve of us waiting in line all wearing our white pajamas, hands cuffed in front, to receive our meds from the doctor who is behind a glass partition. He puts two pills inside a small dixie cup. The green one is the magic one. He makes sure you swallow. I have learned to hide the green one under my tongue. I take it before going to bed. It helps me keep what is left of my sanity.

I will get out. Be prepared.


This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a complete story with a beginning, middle, and end using 100 words of less using the picture prompt below.

Photo Credit ===J. Hardy.

He knew he was taking a chance. He needed the money to support his habit.

It was an elite private high school. His parents paid an ungodly amount to send him there. They provided the best of everything. They purchased him a $45,000-dollar Mustang for his sixteenth birthday. He knew how to play the game with them.

The backpack provided the perfect vehicle to transport his drugs. Everyone had a backpack. He made sure his did not draw attention. Plain black but lots of zippered pockets for his inventory.

He heard a whisper behind his back. It wasn’t a customer.  

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