This post is written in response to the Friday Fictioneers Challenge. My story follow the picture prompt. To view other stories just click on the blue frog at the end of this post.
Come on kid and throw me the damn fish. Don’t look at your mother for approval just toss me the treat she put in your hand. Herring, anchovies, flounder, salmon I don’t care. I spent the last few centuries at sea and it was slim pickings I can tell you. I work hard for my food. Even Plesiosaurs’s can fall on bad times you know.
Ok! Ok! I’ll clap my flippers for you ok? I’m starving here kid so give me a break. I’m almost a skeleton right now can’t you see.
Would he really do it? We had been in this room for three days and nights and had one piece of dry bread.
I was the first. His “first lady.” Two others arrived soon after. We were all gagged and hands tied behind our backs.
Each minute I grew more depressed. I didn’t know where we were or why we had been taken captive. We couldn’t tell daylight from dark. It was always dark. The only light was three days ago when the last arrived.
Written for Friday Fictioneers. My story starts after the picture prompt. Other stories can be read by clicking the blue frog at the end of this post.
“Mom! Jason has done it again.”
“What has Jason done now Carole?”
“He’s taken my baton. He just doesn’t want any competition. He says girls can’t be band conductors. I want to be just like him. I can see myself with my arms swinging through the air with the band following my every movement.My speciality will be outdoor concerts under a gazebo in small New England towns.”
“Can’t we both be conductors Mom? I know we can! Some day you will be able to watch both of us conducting our orchestras under the summer evening stars. You just watch Mom!
Written for Friday Fictioneers. My story follows the picture prompt. You can find more stories by clicking on the blue frog at the end of the post.
I was a sixteen year old keyboard player when you walked into the room. The bassist made it very clear you were his. My hands trembled so much during the recording session we could not finish the song.
I came to know you as a free-spirited tall blond beauty.
Only later did I learn you were a noted singer, vocal teacher, and artist on the California coast.
Some people said I choose your name for the song title because the Beatles had used Michelle.
But you know the truth don’t you Renee. You just had to walk away.
Written for Friday Fictioneers. My story begins after the picture prompt. Other stories can be found by clicking on the blue frog at the end of this post.
Demitri carried the small package across the exhibit floor, his hiking boots making no sound on the polished floor. The silver cell phone he held in his gloved hand, when activated, would forever make him a martyr.
The corporate information booth was located just inside the front door. Its presence there assure that everyone would have to pass by it first. He was attired as a delivery person so as not to arouse any suspicion.
“A delivery from the people of Prince William Sound,” he announced to the startled recruiter.
Gina called the dinner off tonight. It was to celebrate our commitment. It took us two years to get to even that point. We talked about our future. We even agreed on two children. Now how old fashion is that? She was in love with the law. I was in love with books and words.
She said she needed more time to consider this change in her life. Thinking about the whole situation I think I have to agree. Love plays funny games.
The lack of children’s merry voices was haunting. It is not because they have not tried. Both David and Sara were under intense pressure. The name must survive. It was his sworn duty to continue his lineage. He would not let his family down.
It could not be done by a stranger. His brother Jack had volunteered. His mission was to be beget a child for them.
“She’s beautiful,” gushed Sara. Jack, looking down on the lovely thing he had created replied, “She looks just like her father. Do you think David will ever be able to find us.”
“Who is the current President of the United States?”
“Grover Cleveland. And it’s his second presidency.”
“What is todays date?”
“June 21st, 1991. It’s the day I am to be married. Chuck’s such a nice man. That’s him over in the corner behind those empty bottles. Looks like he’s made quite a mess. He doesn’t mean to be destructive. He just can’t control his anger sometimes. Like the time he hit me with that big pottery pot.”
She had forgotten her name, but not her feelings. She was feeling sad. They had been mean to her, that she could remember. There had been more than one and they passed her around like a jug of wine each taking a sip. She remembered the hard concrete as her head hit it. They told her that her father would pick her up at the end of the dock. As she looked down the wooden walk she realized it would take all of her will power to reach the end. Then she realized her father passed away five years ago.
Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end. (No one will be ostracized for going a few words over the count.)
His name was Trouble and he lived up to his name. My father bought him from a neighbor for $25. Dad said I was 50% owner. I owned the back half. The half you have to clean up after. Trouble liked to run. He would run and then look back to see if you were following. Trouble would get so excited in the house when we played with him he would pee on the floor. Trouble even ran a squirrel up a tree one time. Trouble went blind at age fifteen. My dad took him to the field out back and shot him.