Category Archives: Friday Fictioneers

A Slight Delay

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This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. 

ben-gurion-airport-2

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Dear Ginger:

Sorry my love but I be slightly delayed for our marriage ceremonies. Weather here is dreadful. Not sure when the next flight to Detroit is but you can bet I will be on it. Thanks again for allowing me some time to get myself together. I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to commit to a lifetime together.

Wait! They are announcing my flight. Wonderful news!

Heading toward the gate I hear my salvation. “Announcing the boarding of flight 656 non-stop to London will begin in five minutes.”

 

 

The Last Lap

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This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.

belton-lap-pool

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Light was fading fast outside when the terrible thing happened.

“How long was he in the water before you found him.”

“Not more than 15 minutes inspector” answered Erick. “I saw him on my last round.“

“No witnesses I assume?”

“He always swam late at night and always alone. Except last night.”

“Except last night Erick? Who was with him last night.”

“It was a lady. There were lots of laughs and horseplay. Then I heard angry shouts and then silence.”

“Erick, do you think he was having an argument with his wife.”

“Inspector, I know one thing. It wasn’t his wife.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Waiting For The End

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This post is submitted to Friday Fictioneers.

on-route-66-jean-l-hays

PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

It was a cold March day. Patches of snow still remained from the harsh winter. That was nothing new here in the desolate southwest desert. Living conditions were hostile for plant and animal life. The lack of vegetation had exposed the the ground to extreme denudation.

Dirk had made this his home for the past three years. Existing on trash thrown from passing vehicles on the nearby highway or occasional forays four miles away at the interstate exit where the giant green dumpsters were like dining at five star restaurants for him. The end was near and he knew it.

 

 

 

Guten Morgen

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This post is submitted to Friday Fictioneers. 

cloister-roger-b

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

German class started at 8 a.m. I hated it! The old building seemed an appropriate place to learn this old European guttural language. Even the architecture suggested a dark and troubled time.

It took two years of German classes to receive my degree.  It was that or take the equivalent number of hours in mathematics. My instructor for the entire two years was Herr Blumenthal. He stood an unimpressive five foot one, always smoked a pipe, and wore had the same tweed jacket for the entire two years.

My days started with the same words “Guten Morgen Herr James!”


					

		
		
	


				
					
	

		

						
A Naughty Dog

			
						

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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. Other stories can be read by clicking HERE.


trees-ronda-del-boccio
PHOTO PROMPT © Ronda Del Boccio


I know my my time is coming to an end. I can hear him shouting in the distance. Once I escaped I kept quiet as I ran through the tall grass enjoying my first taste of freedom. But nightfall is going to be my downfall. I’ve never been outside after the sun has set. I see the headlights of his car closing in on me. I am ready to return. There he is! I know I have caused a great deal of trouble.


He should have thought about that when he took my leash off.

					

		
		
	


				
					
	

		

						
Harry

			
						

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This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.


piano-anshu
PHOTO PROMPT © Anshu Bhojnagarwala


Harry comes in around nine. The regular crowd has been there since eight. Been that way since ’96. Taking his seat at the piano he turns and surveys the crowd. He knows they all have to be back in their coffins by sunrise.


There’s Sara dressed in her finest white gauze and her head topped by a red bandana. Over in the corner is Old John still trying to pick up Sadie. She told him to drop dead ten hears ago. And he did!


The keys on the piano have turned to decayed wood. The sound doesn’t have to carry far.


 


 


 


 

					

		
		
	


				
					
	

		

						
Bath Robe in the Window

			
						

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This post is submitted to Friday Fictioneers.


ce3
PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr


I park my motorcycle outside Maria’s  small apartment. I thought to myself: you really think she will forgive you?


I had run away. Commitment was not in my vocabulary. I need time to think I told her. “I think you are making a huge mistake,” she had shouted at my departing trail of stones my bike kicked up.


Ten lonely months on the road had convinced me she was right. Time to suck it in and make amends.


Looking up at her widow I see the shadow of a man in a bath robe looking down at me.