PHOTO PROMPT © J.S. Brand
Stacy looked out back and started. Marv crouched there in underpants, chisel in hand, carefully working the huge chunk of wood, making… something?
“Marv? Marv, what are you carving?” Stacy called from the now open rear door. “Come in Marv, you’ll catch cold.”
Marv kept working, ignoring the cold as he ignored his wife. He had no answer. The voices hadn’t said what it was.
“Get in here before the neighbors see!”
“Finish!” the voices screamed. “Finish!”
Marv worked frantically, obeying the voices. Stacy’s cries blew away like wind, drowned by the voices. Only the voices mattered.
“Finish, finish, finish.”
Continue reading “#FridayFictioneers – Voices”
PHOTO PROMPT © Jeff Arnold
Benny sat the chess board on the table and placed the pieces.
Larry had always said that they were playing “The game of kings” as the pieces settled on the board
“Then why are we playing?” Benny always answered back.
The board set, Benny pulled out the ouija, placed his hands on the teardrop shaped pointer and thought of his friend. “You first,” he said.
The pointer moved, letter to letter, allowing Benny to construct the words.
“Queen’s pawn to D4,” the board spelled out.
Benny smiled, knowing that would be his friend’s first move. Same ole Larry, he thought.
Continue reading “#FridayFictioneers – The Game of Kings”
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
The cleric stood atop the dais, speaking softly to the assembled circling the alter.
“Tonight!,” he exclaimed. Fire erupted from torches bathing the assembled in fierce heat. They pulled away, then leaned in as soft words accompanied the flames dwindling. “Go forth. What has been taken will be reclaimed.”
“Yes,” they shouted. “Yes, we will reclaim!”
“Bring fire upon the unbelievers. Rise up, strong and fierce,” he elongated fierce, accenting it with another gout of flame.
With destruction in their hearts, they poured from the assembly.
The cleric, his work done, retired atop the tower to watch the world burn.
Continue reading “#FridayFictioneers – Reclaimers”
PHOTO PROMPT © Jilly Funell
Jake smiled as he read the text.
coffee shop. mall. 5–
Excited for his first job since the Army, he showered, dressed, and set out early. It would be nice to get back to what he knew.
She sat alone sipping from a white paper cup. The over-sized sunglasses fell short of covering her swollen black eye.
She nodded, pulled a bulging envelope from a small pink purse, and slid it over.
Jake compared the picture to the black haired man held in the cross-hairs. It was him. His breathing slowed melting the nerves away, exhaled and pulled the trigger.
Continue reading “#FridayFictioneers – First Job”
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Billy sat stunned in the grass watching Sally climb. She was half monkey. More than half. She scaled the shear wall, finding invisible holds, ascending the ancient stone with ease.
“Come on up,” Sally called from from her perch atop the wall, receiving a doubtful look in return. “I’ll guide you.”
Wanting to be like his big sis, Billy placed hesitant hands to stone. Then he was climbing under Sally’s direction, finding invisible holds until he was too high to fall and too low to reach Sally.
Walking away, Sally called back, “Help? But getting down is so easy.”
Continue reading “#FridayFictioneers – Getting Down”
PHOTO PROMPT © Yvette Prior
“Hallelujah,” Bob exclaimed as the elevator door opened. He unslung his pack as he stepped into the lobby, computer booting before reaching the table.
It had been a long night driving. Traffic was horrible. The kids were wound tight, but were down now with his wife, fast asleep.
He should sleep too, but the story came to him driving, and wouldn’t wait. Bloodshot eyes locked onto the coffee table. Just what he needed.
Cold black syrup filled the cup. The first sip went down with a grimace. The second was better, not good but needed.
Time to get to work.
#FridayFictioneers is a weekly blog link up hosted by Rochelle over at
RochelleWisoff.com. You should totally check it out and perhaps try your hand at writing a 100 word story.
Kennesaw toweled off, stepped from the shower and into the small living space of the apartment. Mother Moon, brighter tonight than he had seen in centuries called to him.
Soon, her powers would pour once more into him and his kind. The prophecy was at hand. His aged, weak, wrinkled body would be reborn strong in the night again.
Pushing the glass door to the balcony wide, he stepped out, arms raised high, pale skin aglow in her glorious light.
“Put some clothes on freak!”
Kennesaw covered himself and scurried back inside. They laugh now, but soon they will pay.
Continue reading “#FridayFictioneers – Moon Bathing”