Leon’s Farm Market

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.

The challenge is to write a story with a beginning, middle and end in 100 words or less using the picture prompt below.

He spent his teenage summers working at his father’s farm market: “Leon’s Farm Market.” He worked seven days a week while his buddies enjoyed their summers just hanging around the neighborhood. He was responsible for rolling up the chain link fence that surrounded the market at 9 a.m. He was giving exactly $40 (one ten-dollar bill, three five-dollar bills and fifteen one-dollar bills) to open the old crank style National cash register.

He knew his first customer today. Mrs. Rosenburg was always looking for anything on sale. Looking over his shoulder she said, “How much are those garlics today Danny Boy?”

It’s Starting to Rain

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 using the picture prompt below.

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

On that fateful morning of his thirtieth birthday, in a room bare of everything except their sleeping bags, he finally realized that they would be homeless. Their landlord had dumped everything on the street the night before. Even the child’s highchair they had bought for their expected child.

He had always though that the jobs they both had were recession proof. He had always dismissed his wife’s nagging to “save for a rainy day.”

Beside him his wife rubbed her bulging stomach. “Honey, it’s starting to rain,” she said in a sad voice that could not hide her fear.

Bangers and Mash

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

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

The movie set looked realistic. Small boutiques lined the winding narrow cobblestone streets. Mannequins replaced actual customers in the store fronts. The old blue roadster parked at the curb beneath the gas streetlights added a finishing touch to the set.

After my mother died I remember my dad taking me to dinner at Finnieston’s, a diminutive blue building on Argyle Street.  We would take the Argyle Line and get off at the Exhibition Centre railway station. He would order his Bangers and mash. It was an experience a little lad like me will never forget.

“Action,” cried the director.

Other stories can be found by clicking here.

Tiny Dancer

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

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

The winters were harsh in St. Petersburg.

“It’s because you were born early Anna. You will learn to live with imperfections. The cold will always make it hard on you. Your legs and thin ankles will never support your small body. You will learn to live a humble life.”

“Please Grandma, take me to see Sleeping Beauty at the Maryinsky. Let me see the grace of the ballerina’s, the perfect flow of their arms and legs that make them look like white swans moving through the quiet pond.”

“Anna, you will never be a ballerina.”

FineArtAmerica

Anna Pavlova

Buried Treasure

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

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

My grandmother kept a meticulous record of every family member in her large white bible. Each child’s birthday was recorded in her beautiful handwriting. She lived long enough to record some of their deaths.

Near her death I was sitting beside her as she remembered each one with a special story.

I noticed one entry labeled James that had the same birth and death date. I asked my grandmother about it.

“That was your uncle Jim,” she said crying.

I never knew I had an uncle. “What happened to him,” I asked.

“Your father buried him in the backyard.”

Norma Jeane

This post is submitted to 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.

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Before she was an orphan she was just a normal little girl. She hated the orphanage. Every day was the same. She felt robbed, vulnerable, and utterly alone, even abandoned.

“Get up Norma Jeane,” Sister Mary said. “Breakfast is at 7 in the main dining room and your first class is at seven forty-five.”

 “Someday I’ll leave here and become a famous movie star. I’ll live in Hollywood in a big mansion with a famous husband. You just wait and see.”

“You have great dreams Norma Jeane but they will vanish just like a candle in the wind.”

Like a candle in the wind.

Edwina Justice

This post is submitted to Friday Fictioneers where the challenge is to write a complete story with a beginning, middle and end in 100 words or less.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
PHOTO PROMPT – © Jennifer Pendergast

The train whistled two long blasts, a short one and another long blast indicating it was approaching a highway intersection.

The engineer had experiences on shorter trips. Trips from Chicago to St. Louis carrying hogs, cattle, and sugar beets. On these trips there were no toilets. The men didn’t care if they missed the pot. This engineer had to sometimes wait twelve hours unless there was a stop. Air conditioning was an open window.

Along these trips she got to know hobos and some other “unauthorized passengers.” Often these homeless were surprised to see a black woman as an engineer.

 

Edwina Justus

train

RDP Homeless

 

Lend Me Your Ear

This post is submitted to Friday Fictioneers

Write a complete story with a beginning, middle and end using 100 words or less. My story begins after the photo below.

palettes
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

It was a warm and, thanks to the blooming bougainvillea’s, a pleasingly fragrant night in Arles France. He saw Paul sitting at their favorite table drinking his glass of absinthe. Paul’s wife was, of course, not there.

He approached the table. He was holding the bloody blade. He appeared to be in a trance. He pressed a towel to his head to staunch the gushing blood. Taking the red soaked towel from his head he turned this head toward Paul.

“What have you done?” asked Paul.

“I gave it to her as a keepsake.”

“I mean really Vincent, your ear?”

Leave It Outside The Gate

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. 

The rules are simple: write a complete story with a beginning, middle and end in 100 words or less. My story follows the picture prompt.

the-gate
PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

He would make him regret firing him. He didn’t waste his degree in Chemical Engineering working for a dummer than dirt uneducated manager who made vague racial comments about him.

His weapon was perfect: a colorless, odorless liquid that even in very low concentrations would cause death to occur within one to ten minutes after inhalation.

Everything was wiped clean so there would be no finger prints to trace. He wiped the sweat from his brow and pulling his latex gloves off he smiled.

He even had the perfect delivery system. Just leave it outside the gate.

Why Can’t We Talk About This

This post is submitted to Friday Fictioneers.

The rules are simple. Write a COMPLETE STORY in 100 words or less with a beginning, middle and end.

anonymous-kitchen-photo
PHOTO PROMPT @ A. Noni Mouse

“I beginning to hate these people,” said Helen. “I just about lost my temper at dinner. Are we so afraid of Erick that we can’t talk about current events without the fear of offending him? How long can we talk about ocean cruises?  Neighborhood gossip? I would like to talk about the necessity of wearing masks. Vote by mail? Racial equality? Black Lives Matter? The feeling that this nation is being divided by the very one who should be uniting us? Let’s not have another Civil War!”

“So that’s why you spent the final thirty minutes doing dishes?” said Tom.