Tag Archives: friday fictioneers

No Dancing For Me

door

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

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Jeffrey stood at the bottom of the steps confronted by a barrier and closed doors.

“The bloody thing’s closed. Dodged that one,” he said aloud.

He was turning to leave when he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard her say, “Where do you think you’re going?”

He gritted his teeth behind his lips, then choked out, “It’s closed, Marcia”

“Keeps folks from sleeping on the landing. I can unlatch it and have a key.” She pulled him up the steps.

“I don’t want to dance,” he complained.

“Come on. It’s fun.” The gleam in her eye was evil.

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Visiting Mom

roger

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

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Every morning, she opens the window and walks out onto her small balcony. Her apartment is the only one like it.

Every morning, I wait for her to come out and I watch her. I keep my curtains shut so she doesn’t know she’s being spied on. I’m still deciding what to do.

Nineteen years ago, she went to have an abortion. The baby survived and was born, but she was told it wouldn’t live long. She left without another thought.

Should I confront her, tell her I’m the son she abandoned, or use my rifle and kill her now?

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So This Is Romantic?

beach

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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“Come on, Scott. What’s the point of renting a beach house for a week if we don’t walk along the beach?” Jeannie tugged at her husband’s arm, coaxing him along.

“What’s the point of freezing my ass off? It’s March, not July. What possesses those nuts to bundle up under some tent just to watch the waves?”

“Spoilsport. This is supposed to be romantic.”

“Watching the ocean through the window with a roaring blaze in the fireplace is romantic.”

“Some romance. You just want to be writing that story of yours. I should never have let you bring your laptop.”

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Death by Incense

gas

PHOTO PROMPT © Rowena Curtin

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Henry only needed to turn the gas back on for a little while. He’d arranged for the stove to have a significant leak. Rachel would smell it, but he would tell her she’s imagining things. Then he’d go outside pretending to tend to the garden.

When she came out complaining of a headache or dizziness, he’d suggest she stay with her sister Jeannie for the weekend. Anything to get rid of her and her damned nagging. Then he’d fix the leak, air out the house, and finally be able to relax.

He didn’t count on her lighting an incense stick.

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Of Stuff and Muses

fleur

PHOTO PROMPT © Fleur Lind

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“Well, write something about it,” Muse demanded. In such an ordinary setting, her ephemeral existence, blond hair flowing as water-like as her sheer gown, she was so out of place.

I answered in dismay, “Write what? It’s just someone’s family room. I have no idea what the image on the TV screen is supposed to mean except in the literal sense.”

“Hurry up, James. You do this every week. I have a 10 o’clock with another client.”

“It reminds me of…” I looked around my home office. “Everyone keeps stuff no one else understands.”

She vanished in an impatient puff.

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Baffel’s Last Day

wagon

PHOTO PROMPT © Alicia Jamtaas

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Baffel cautiously walked toward the now antique Conestoga wagon as if it might vanish. He perfectly remembered the wagon train’s journey along the Oregon Trail in 1824.

The families had suffered such hardships. He did the best he could, but he was there to observe and encourage, not to change things.

Nearly a third died of disease and regrettably the hostility of the others whose land upon which they were encroaching. He was ordered not to change that either.

Today, his span was at an end. After 200 years, mankind would have to find their path without the alien android.

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One Pale Blue Dot on Ice, Please

freezing

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

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Another Valentine’s Day alone. Cassandra considered turning the heat up in her small apartment but her rental agreement said she paid for heating and cooling. She pulled the blanket higher around her while watching TV. The big news was that Voyager 1 had sent back what would be the “Pale Blue Dot” photo of Earth.

“Whoopie.” She tucked her freezing feet under her butt. It was no use. The streets were paved with ice so she wasn’t going out. “Screw it.” Cass got up and opened the chest. “Now where did I put those global warming potions?” thought the witch.

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Counting Down From Seven

boardwalk

PHOTO PROMPT © Peter Abbey

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How did I get to be so old? No, don’t answer that. Maybe I’ll just sit on a bench here on the pier. That’s better. Only us retirees out on a Wednesday. What time is it? Says nearly 9:15 a.m. on this funky handheld the alien gave me.

Well, he said he was an alien. Looked human to me when he accosted me in the Safeway parking lot last week. Countdown says seven minutes as of now. I wonder if I should have warned someone like he said? Too late now. Asteroid’s going to hit dead center of this pier.

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The Word

room

PHOTO PROMPT © Susan Rouchard

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Griffith had been searching for the last syllable, the last few letters of The Word for twenty centuries. It was rather anti-climactic that he should find it on a cheap bookshelf in this hovel.

He ran a grateful finger over the binding of the black tome on the lower shelf. The spine contained a letter only he could read. Once he assembled The Word and spoke it, a peace beyond all understanding would encompass the globe.

A sound from the doorway. “You have led Legion on a merry chase, Griffith. Or is it that we let you bring us here?”

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Dinnertime

farm

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Sam grasped the fence post as nausea doubled him over. The throb on this right side spread around to his back. He wondered just how long seventy years of debauchery would take to kill him.

“Can’t be.” He tried to shake off his headache and clear his vision. “It is. But it can’t be. They’ve been dead for over 50 years. The old farm was sold at auction. It’s a damned subdivision now.”

Grandma stepped out of the barn and waved at him. “Sammy. Dinner’s about ready. Come on home.”

The twelve-year old boy scrambled down the path toward Heaven.

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