Hardscramble

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 © Lisa Fox

I remember watching my grandfather squatting in front of the black and white television in his bid overalls ranting at all the political candidates .

Together with his brothers they dug a basement and then moved his home over it. My Uncle Luther ran his tractor into the basement wall.

I followed behind him and his tractor picking up rocks so the field could be planted next season. He couldn’t afford the cost of burying of any family member. I heard stories of family members being buried under those rocks.

I’m still superstitious about homes build with rocks.

451

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

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

“What’s going on?” Roger asked. Rarely had he seen so many people crammed into the town’s library. Looking around he noticed people who he knew for a fact had never been a library in their entire life.

“Cindy called a meeting to discuss our current inventory of books,” replied Brenda, the school librarian since 1962. She claims there are books our kids would find offensive.

“What kind of books,” said Roger.

“The ones that talk about gender identify, the LGBTQ books, enslavement, sex and religion.”

Roger looked in horror as Cindy picked up a can of kerosene.

He Started to Smell

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 © Bill Reynolds

That’s why I had to get rid of him. The abandon trailer was soiled and reeked of mold and rotting food. He showed up smelling of booze and cigarettes. I shared what little I had with him. I discovered he had no money. The question than came as to how to get rid of him. The butcher knife needed cleaning anyway. Every day after that I had to step over him to get to my truck. His body fit perfectly in my large tool box on the truck. The desert never gives up its dead. They just rot away.

Table For One

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 © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“How many in your party sir?“

“Just myself tonight.”

“The name on the reservation?”

“I don’t have one. Just arrived in town.”

“Appears to be around a twenty minute wait sir.”

“Perhaps I could have one of those empty tables behind you?

“Sorry sir, those are all reserved.”

While waiting I glanced at my black face in the gold framed mirror in the waiting area and wondered.

Pea Shooter

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

The pea hit me in the back of my neck. Turning around, I always sat in the front, I saw Kent smiling with his hands folded on his desk with an innocent smug smile on his ugly mug. Ignoring him I turned around and tried to focus on what Mr. Baldwin, whose thick black glasses were always sliding down his large nose, was saying about personal hygiene. Almost all of us hated health class.

Another pea whizzed by my ear and landed on the floor in front of Mr. Baldwin. Picking up the pea Mr. Baldwin motioned me forward.

Nevis to Boston

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 © Bradley Harris

He’s come a long way since leaving this picturesque island of Nevis. The horrors of the enslavement of the natives will never entirely fade away. Even in his new country he will be surrounded by an enslaved population. But this time they will be his. This time he will be the master. Little did he realize what a history he would create in his new world. An acceptance into King’s College; a hero of the Revolutionary War; author of the Federalist Papers; involved in a famous dueling battle; and first Secretary of the Treasury.

Easier Said Than Done

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. My story follow the picture prompt below.

PHOTO PROMPT © Brenda Cox

I hawk my father’s precious, but not fully appreciated, art work outside our ridiculous expensive rented space to tourists who have no idea how much talent is involved in their purchase.

I did not want to return to this busy, ugly, dirty city. My father says to try and embrace the city as it is, not some childhood memory that makes you both nostalgic and sick. Embrace it and make its fault your own.

Somewhere a lyric from a song plays in my mind. “Easier said then done.”

Rudy

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.

Claire Fuller (7)
PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Claire Fuller

He was once considered a hero after his actions on September 11, 2001. It was hard to maintain that halo as he rapidly fell from disgrace one misstep after the next. The President had once considered him for his running mate. Now the President needed his help. He needed an endorsement from auto company to seal a foreign relations deal.

“Just get in front of the headquarters of an auto company and have their president say some glowing remarks about how I have turned the auto industry around under my leadership,” the President said.

“I’m on it boss,” said Rudy.

A Transaction

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 below.

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

The street was void of people. The silence of the neighborhood was not normal. This would make the transaction difficult. He depended on chaos to achieve his mission.

He needed to make up his mind to halt or go straight forwards. After a very short consideration he made his way towards the point he had in his mind. He knocked on the old wood door. It was opened by a very odd figure, who upon glancing at him, almost shut the door.

“Walk in if your please Dr. Watson,” a voice calmly called from the back. “Let’s begin.”

Whitefish Bay

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.

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

The sea was deceptively calm. He knew that would change. Memories of his fathers death at the hands of this unforgiving and relentless mistress haunted him.

November was always a bad month to be sailing. As he looked out from his station a chill went through his body as the waves were increasing in size. The static from the onboard radio warned of a storm of the century. He was watching the ship’s radar when the blimp that was the ship in front of them disappeared.

Below him he heard the cargo of the big ship began to move.

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Today marks the 46th anniversary of the sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald. I grew up in Michigan and I still remembered where I was when this came over the news. Much like everyone remembers where they were when JFK was assassinated. Just 17 more miles they would have made Whitefish Bay and safety.

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