Friday Fictioneers – Oh Danny Boy!

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.

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.

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.

//////////////////////////////////////////////

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.

Plan B

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

He had everything figured out to the smallest detail. Her bag was packed and stood by the doorway. Gas tank was full. He had made three practice drives to the hospital. The drive was anywhere from six to nine minutes depending on traffic. This would be a piece of cake. All she had to to was tell him it was time.

The expected time arrived . But as they rounded the curve they saw the stalled tractor.

“Plan B. Get out of the car and come over to my side and get ready to deliver your new baby boy,” she cried.

John Browdie

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.

It was just like him to be late. They were to meet here and then ride to the museum. He saw him on the bench out front.

“I thought you were riding your bike here,” said Harold.

“Had a little accident,” said Browdie. “Need to buy a new one.”

“Do you know how far the museum is from here?”

“No I do not,” said Browdie; “but is of no great consequence to me, for I attend walking.”

“Perhaps you should buy a off road bike this time.”

That’s My Bike

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

His prognosis had been a devastating blow. The concussions Ben had received during the bombing had left him without any memory. The doctors had tried just about every treatment to recover even a tiny portion of his life before the war. So far nothing had worked.

His brother had an idea. He did a goggle search and found it. Working with the museum curator they wheeled the piece of art to his bedside.

Ben’s eyes suddenly went wide. “That’s my bike!” Ben yelled.

Hardscrabble

Winds whipped across the frozen pond. The worst of the winter was yet to come. The journey they had all agreed to had been more difficult then they ever thought possible. Their meager food supply would only last them a few more weeks. Eric wondered if they should turn back. The group decided to stay where they were. Over the next few days nine of the original thirteen either froze or starved to death. Eric looked over his shoulder at Trevek and wondered who was stronger. The ice cracked under his snowshoes as he approached his prey.

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

See How Her Garden Grows

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.

A Refrigerator in a Tree

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.

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.

Flint, Michigan

Welcome to Florida

This post is written for Friday Fictioneers.

Enjoy your retirement. Those were his thoughts driving to his new “number one rated” over 55 community. After twenty-eight years working in a big city he looked forward to a little peace and comfort.

Turning on the car radio he heard the announcer matter of fact deliver the “breaking news” (wasn’t everything nowadays breaking news?)…”a gunman opened fire on students and staff at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, killing 17 people and injuring 17 others.” Looking up he noticed the highway sign said “Welcome to Florida”.

Another War Lost

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.

For some this was another war that they had lost.

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this: