#FridayFictioneers – Lost in the Pages

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

“It’s you! I’m your biggest fan. I’ve read all your thesis’s and theories. Brilliant! If you wouldn’t mind…”

“Sorry son, didn’t see you there.” Professor Land removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes, before looking the lad, a ball of barely contained energy, up and down. “I was quite lost in an enchanted forest when you found me, and want very much to return.”

The boy stood stunned and wide-eyed, not knowing how to react. At once, pleased to be acknowledged and miffed at being dismissed.

“Take a card and see me tomorrow. Office hours are on there. Goodnight.”

WC : 100


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#FridayFictioneers - Huff & Puff

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields

“Wow, he really meant it,” Stinky squealed.

“Sure did. Got inside just in time too,” Pinkey said peeking out the window. “Hate to think what would have happened…” She shook her head.

Gray stepped out amid the destruction unafraid, spotting the wolf laid by the street recovering from all the huffing and puffing. “Yep, you’d think they’d learn after all these years. This old brick held up for my Great Grandhog, and it’s still strong as anything.” He patted an appreciative hoof on the brick and squealed laughter.

“One day little piggies,” croaked the wolf. “I’ll get you one day.”

WC: 100


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#FridayFictioneers – Run to the Light


PHOTO PROMPT © Ronda Del Boccio

David ran.

Faster than ever, he ran. A thousand thousand scratches oozed blood, leaving his trail on the leaves.

The thumping rhythm of huge paws sounded from the deep wood. The beast followed fast an effortless track. It flew, thorns and limbs sliding harmless off its thick ebony coat. Drool overflowed the maw, leaving streamers behind.

David’s adrenaline spiked at the sound, and he pushed harder still, moving at inhuman speed.

The light looms ahead. One final stretch to the wall. They wait there, faces hopeful, before their eyes focus behind the runner and fill with terror.

David ran.

wc: 99

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#FridayFictioneers – It’s All In The Bread


PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

“Best sandwiches this side of the state. No, the country. Maybe the world.”

“Really?”

“Yep. It’s the bread… That’s right, the bread. Fresh baked every morning, it makes the sandwich.”

“Bread does not make a sandwich.”

“No. And yes. Anybody can stuff fillers between two pieces of bread. Everyone has the same fillers off the same truck. The bread is the difference. People show up for the bread.”

“You are passionate about this bread.”

“Just wait, and you’ll see. Here it is now.”

“Place looks closed.”

“No way! What happened?!”

“Don’t know. Maybe they quit making dough.”

WC: 97


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#FridayFictioneers – The Game

PHOTO PROMPT © Priya Bajpal

Rosie wrung her hands and began reaching before forcing a stop.  She leaned back with a hint of a smile.  Her cheeks bloomed red.

The game was simple.  Everyone writes their wildest fantasies, pops ’em into the jar, and shakes ’em up.  Then the “fun” starts.  The fun was figuring out who matched what fantasy, one at a time, until they were all found out.

Rosie glanced at Ken.  He smiled wide in return, a knowing twinkle in his eye.

This somehow calmed her.

“Everyone ready?” Barb asked before emptying her wine.  “Time to play.”

Rosie’s heart skipped a beat.

WC:  100


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#FridayFictioneers – Fences

PHOTO PROMPT © Russell Gayer

“Wait.”  Randell held up a hand.  “Climb…that?”

“Yeah,” I replied.  “It’ll be fun.  Look at it.”

“I see.  I see a fence and No Trespassing signs just back there.”

I shrugged.  “No signs here.”

“That’s not how that works,” Randell said.

“Oh well, I’m a free spirit.  Ever heard that song, Signs?  ‘Put up a fence to keep me out, or to keep all the nature in,'” I sang.

“Yeah, I know it.”

“Besides, who’s gonna know?  You gonna tell?”

We slipped the fence just before three large, rifle toting patches of grass rose up.

“That’s far enough boys.”

WC:  100


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#FridayFictioneers – The Goat

PHOTO PROMPT © Randy Mazie

Lightning streaked the sky.

Randy woke as the thunder crashed to find himself strapped to the cold concrete of the mausoleum.  He wished he could rub his aching back.  Or just stretch, but rough rope cut into both wrist and ankle.  A scream squeaked past strained vocal chords and trembling lips.

The gathered didn’t notice his struggles, their glazed eyes stared into the distance from within deep hoods.

Eyes he knew.  These people bought his goats.

A smiling, dagger toting man approached the mausoleum.

“Wait!  I’ll give you a goat.  A freebie.”

“Goat?”  He smiled.  “Tonight, you are the goat.”

WC:  100


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