She had been planning this “little” get together with friends for the last month. I finally got her to pare her little list down to eight people including Iris. I always liked to invite Iris to one of our party’s because she always has an opinion on every subject. And what I really like about Iris is that she has no filter on her mouth. She’s not a shy one and you better be ready to cover your ears if you are easily offended. She will be the ideal person to try your new juicy pineapple desert.
This post is in response to Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a complete story with a beginning, middle and end using the picture prompt below.
Sometimes you need a new perspective on your life. Every day you go about your daily activities with little thought of how things change around you. Or do they? If you take a selfie (Oxford Dictionaries chose that word as its Word of the Year in 2013) today and stood in the same place a year from now, how much would change. Same pictures on the wall? Your favorite recliner? The super soft blanket that even Linus from Peanuts would envy?
Would you even be here in a year to take the picture. Yes? No?
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.
“Sorry for your loss.” He hates that statement. They don’t understand the world he now faces without her. She was always the one that was there for you when you needed her. Where were you when she needed you in her last months? She was always growing, expanding her energies for all the things she held close to her heart. He garden was her escape. A place to escape her crazy world.
She left specific instructions of how she wanted to be remembered. Fine to think she can go on being socially useful even after she’s dead. Making plants grow.
It was a little after 7:30 am. We were about a half hour late. She always liked to get started early on her twice daily walk. I told her the radar indicated that the rain would be here shortly. I could tell by the look she gave me that she couldn’t wait. So off we went. Sure enough the rain started about five minutes into our walk. Ten minutes later it was a delude. She wasn’t happy.
It was late afternoon Monday June 8, 1953. As we drive to my grandmother’s I remember seeing a refrigerator in a tree. For an seven year old that didn’t make sense. Her street of old two story homes was now what looked like a messy lumber yard.
There were a few people, some walking, some sitting on the ground, with a daze look in their eyes, rummaging among their damaged possessions looking like the walking dead. The amazing thing was that there was total silence. There was no wind. It was a time when the world stood STILL.
This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a story using 100 words or less that has a beginning, middle and end using the picture prompt below.
We were in the heart of a long abandoned area of the park. The greenness of the area hid the desperation of the inhabitants below. Come nightfall the squatters would come back from their days journey in hell. Dirty backpacks, trash bags containing refundable containers, broken grocery carts filled with their worldly possessions. The daily migration never ended. Each day a few crazed zombies added to the population. The poorest of the poor lived right here, underneath the walking path. Some people who had lost their self-respect called this place home.
This post is in response to 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.
I met Sara at the last meeting. I liked her sad story. She is homeless and sleeps on the grassy area under the highway overpass. We mumble “thanks for sharing” and let our minds wander back to our own pathetic world.
When my turn comes I rattle on about my recent good fortune. Faces turn as I describe my new digs. Suddenly Sara shouts that she is tired of sleeping on the streets and asks if I need a roommate. I give her my address.
This post is written for Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a short story, 100 words or less, with a beginning, middle and end using the picture prompt provided. My story follows that picture prompt below.
Living far from her parents was rough enough in normal times. And this definitely was not close to normal. She regretted now, more than ever before, leaving home. Leaving them so depended on others.
He did not even get the opportunity to see his latest grandchild. Even her mother was not able to be at his bedside when he died. Only the nurse. A nurse who nothing about the wonderful person that lay before her suffering his last suffocating painful breaths.
She received the dreaded last night at 3 a.m.
“Send me something to remember him,” she asked the nurse.
This story 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. My story follows the picture prompt.
His mind wandered in and out of the real world. His twenty eight years working on Amtrak trains occupied his decaying mind at the moment. He had a nightmare that would not go away.
He had to throw a switch.
The switch that would allow his train to enter the siding and allow the Amtrak California Zephyr to pass on the main line on its way to its final destination in Emeryville. He didn’t realize how much the heavy snow would slow him down.
The headline in the San Francisco Examiner read: “Brakeman only survivor in Amtrak train disaster.”