Time again for ‘Friday Fictioneers’. A 100 words of fiction (or there abouts) based on the weekly photo prompt provided. This weeks inspiration offered by our ever fabulous host, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
In the darkened hotel room, clammy fingers teased a gap in the curtains.
They’d found him.
He couldn’t breathe. His chest tightened.
For the last four nights; 7.40pm on the dot, same car, same routine.
Enter car park… One circuit… Stop… No one gets in… No one gets out…
It must be them!
The loot, still in the holdall, like a beacon. His eyes back and forth between the car and the bag.
He dropped to the floor, stone dead!
Mumbling, Sally threw the Sat Nav onto the back seat. Four nights this week she’d ended up in this car park instead of the new offices.
“I thought these things were supposed to be DEADLY accurate”!
It’s the first Wednesday of the week, so time again for Friday Fictioneers. The hottest joint this side of the equator, pull up a chair, grab a drink and join in the party. A 100 words of fiction around a weekly changing photo. Enjoy..
Photo Copyright : Ted Strutz
It was the memory that gave off the smell. So much fear, it clung to her; to her hair, to her skin. With every breath, she could still taste the shame.
“Go on, it’s only a swing” they’d said,
“We’ll sit next to you” they’d said,
She’d seen them at the rail, pointing, laughing. The lonely girl who thought she’d finally been accepted, soaring alone, 60 feet above.
She’d peed her pants!
20 years later, laughing seagulls circled above. A single tear pooled.
Chiding herself, she got back into the car.
After all, seagulls don’t laugh and big girls don’t cry…
Original Photo : www.morguefile.com/creative/sarakellyspeaking
Text & Adaption : Helen Midgley
Photo Copyright : http://www.morguefile.com/creative/MarcusL
I lose myself in memories,
Surround myself in thought,
Surrendering to the ricochets,
Of dreams that came to nought,
I drown myself in apathy,
Immerse myself in languor,
Submitting to the uncertainty,
Of choices made in anger,
I shade myself in monochrome,
Portray myself in neutral,
Concealing the imperfections,
Of my colours, far too truthful.
Another Wednesday another ‘Friday Fictioneers’. A 100 words of fiction based around the photo prompt provided. If you haven’t tried it yet, you’re missing a treat. Follow the link and join its merry band of participants.
Photo Copyright : Marie Gail Stratford
She looked at the clock, to the windows, to the chairs. Everything looked the same. But it wasn’t. The hands of the clock seemed faster, the lights a little darker and a melancholy scent hung in the air.
“Meet me in the library” he’d typed. “I have something to ask you” he’d typed. Of course she’d agreed. She’d been invisible for so long, a faceless shadow amidst the heat.
Three months of solitary seduction.
Entirely by email.
He’d apologised for disturbing her. Said his appointment was late. Left the door ajar when he left.
Sally got up, straightened her skirt and closed another door!