PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
New flowers lay by the vase that held wilted predecessors. They, so fresh and vibrant, would fade as well.
Her love, like the flowers, bold and beautiful, faded away.
She the flower; he the soil. Each a part to play. Each needing the other, then no more. Another passed, plucked her up.
Oh, for an unfaded flower. An undiminished love.
He turned the bottle up, made bubbles in the amber. The old revolver’s chamber spun. He slammed it home and squeezed the trigger.
Continue reading “#FridayFictioneers – Unfaded Flower”
PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll
Tommy’s coffee was not enough to stop the shivers.
This winter is ridiculous. How much can I take?
Inside, even shielded from the cutting wind, the cold was there, a living entity, seeping from the brick and mortar into him as he walked to his apartment.
The cold greeted him in his apartment. The radiator sat wrapped in cold against the wall, too stubborn to light. Too cold.
He walked to the window. Slid it open.
Why not? Climbing onto the ledge, the wind cut his dry, chapped skin, but it wasn’t satisfied. It slid around his back and pushed.
Why fight it?
Continue reading “#FridayFictioneers – Entity of Cold”
PHOTO PROMPT © Anshu Bhojnagarwala
The rain was gone, and the kids wanted s’mores.
“No way,” I called back on the drive home. “Wood’s wet.”
“S’mores, s’mores, s’mores,” came the raucous call from the backseat.
Pulling in the drive I said, “go in. Get ready. I’ll start the fire.” I winked at my wife. There was a little dry kindling hid back. Maybe I could get something going. She smiled back.
They cheered. Then I did my Big Bad Wolf impression, huffing and puffing until a tendril of smoke burst to flame. Extremely proud, I called up to the house.
“Quiet. You’ll wake the kids.”
#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.
PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn M. Miller
“Tickets,” the attendant called from down the aisle. The train began to sway as it picked up speed.
Kev held his tickets in easy reach and tried not to look at the scrolling landscape. Train travel. He hated it, and everyone that knew him knew that. He had been sure to drop it casually into conversations over the last few months as the investigation ramped up.
The attendant took and tore Kev’s ticket. “Thank you,” he said handing back the stub.
“No,” Kev smiled. “Thank you.” He relaxed. It would be days, maybe weeks before they even suspected the train.
Continue reading “#FridayFictioneers – Getaway Train”