PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier
I arrived in Cebu island, nursing depression and a gin-and-tonic. Through the airplane window, the island was ablaze with city lights.
On the first day, I met Imelda as I struggled to navigate my way through the city’s transport network of Jeepneys.
Imelda. Beautiful and young. She survived by pickpocketing.
We spent many days exploring the island together. Soon the days stretched into warm passionate nights.
One day, I awoke to find her gone. I had been expecting it really. Just, my heart ached at the emptiness when I realised she stole not only my wallet but my heart, too.
So happy to have my photo for this week’s prompt! I took this photo as I wandered Cebu City in the Phillipines at night. Jeepneys are commonly used as cheap transport. These vehicles are converted to seat passengers along the walls of the van instead of in rows. And you simply jump on or off at the back. Hitching a ride in one is a must if you are a tourist.
Hope you enjoyed this story!
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less. Click the frog to submit your flash fiction and read others’.
PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll
Clive dusted his hands. “All done for today. Your entire life in one small unit.”
“A unit with the dimensions of a grave.” Asiya quipped. She forced a smile.
“You know, I have a spare mattress at home, if you ever…”
“Oh! that’s okay. I’m staying with a friend.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, said goodbye and left. She didn’t think he believed her.
She made sure he was gone. Then she unlocked the door to the storage unit, walked through it and locked it behind her.
She hid behind her piano and settled in for the night.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less. Submit your flash fiction to the gods by clicking on the blue frog.
Click the frog to join
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
“I can’t believe you bought this. Are you trying to sink us?”
There was a time when she used to love everything I did.
“It’s seen better days.” Things have not been the same between us since…. “I’m trying to move us forward.”
“Okay, I get it. Roller shutter doors are not conventional coffee shop decor. But that’s what will be so great about it. Think industrial. Like an upmarket New York loft. Nothing a coat of paint won’t fix.
“Some things can’t just be covered up and forgotten about, Elliot. Some things can’t be fixed. ”
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less. Click the blue frog to submit your flash fiction, and read others’.
PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier
Shawn couldn’t remember what he walked into the living room for. Old age was really messing with him. He remembered he was on the phone with Johnny… Oh yes! Now he remembered! Johnny wanted some file. Where did he say it was again? Something about a tabletop.
There it is on the dining table! He grabbed the file and when Johnny’s driver arrived, dutifully handed it over.
Fifteen minutes later Johnny called again, laughing so hard he could barely get the words out. “Pa, I meant a copy of the file on the desktop computer.”
Honestly, Johnny should have known better.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less. Click the blue frog to submit your flash fiction and read others’. I struggled with this prompt, even though it is my own. Blame it on writer’s block 🙂
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz
Pictures are worth a thousand words, thought Henry. Clearly, a thousand words are not enough.
The funeral was just as his mother would have liked it. Simple.
He leafed through her photo album. Many of him and his siblings as children. Some of his parents, laughing, smiling. Caught unawares. Of course, he didn’t find what he was looking for. There were none of her first family. The husband and autistic child she abandoned.
He committed to finding his half-brother. Maybe she couldn’t handle it. He certainly wanted to try. Especially now that his own daughter had received the same diagnosis.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less. Click the frog to submit your flash fiction and to read others’.
I was a sailboat drifting upon your seas.
Navigating towards distant places,
behind the mists of your horizon.
Sun-beat, fresh varnish,
You were the ocean rippling
beneath me, reflecting infinities of overhanging skies.
Bahamas blue, glassy calm and
You became the tumultous waves
crashing on my bow,
ripping apart my sails.
Stinging saltwater seeping into my cracked hull.
Midnight blue, marbled through
You spoke of love.
I hid my fear.
Shared with dVerse Poets Pub in a poetry challenge using metaphors.
photo: my own
Image from pinterest.
PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda
The article stated it was the worst drought in decades, quoting researcher-facts and interspersed with images of wildlife writhing on cracked mud. The last time Lake Ngami dried up was in the eighties.
The sun burned the backs of Kgosi and his men as they dug a hole, deep and wide enough, for underground water to seep into it. A man-made water hole. It wouldn’t last long. Wild animals would travel far in search of water. Next Saturday they would dig another one a few kilometers east of this hole.
Kgosi hoped the rains would come soon.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less, click the frog to share your flash fiction and read what others have written.
Fresh water will one day be the wealth of future nations.
PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll
It was too high up. The colander mocked him from above, dangling from a suspended cord. What was wrong with storing things in cupboards?
The pasta boiled on the stove. Getting too soft.
He was getting too impatient. With his legs, limp and useless, in the wheelchair. With the stupid colander in the dumbest place.
He should have gotten it down before he started cooking. Prepare beforehand. He took a deep breath. All that was needed was some slight adjustments to the way he usually goes about things. That’s all.
Grabbing a broomstick, he gently coaxed it off the hook.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
Click the frog to submit your story or read others’.
PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr
Will you tell me a bedtime story?
Just a little.
From slaying dragons? You have dragon blood on your coat again.
That green shiny stuff there, and there. There’s another spot and here too.
Oh…It must have sprayed onto me when…
You can tell me. I promise I won’t tell anyone. Cross my heart. Hope to die. Oh, don’t worry I won’t really die. It’s just how Jamie and I make promises. So we know for sure.
I was going to say, it must have sprayed onto me when we were making slime.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less. Click the frog to submit your flash fiction or read others’.
PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook
The call came in the dark hours of the morning. Doctor Worthington drove in the pre-dawn winter mist to the abandoned train station.
He found Matthew waiting for him, grumbling as he looked about nervously, “Hurry, we don’t have much time.”
“Sorry. Came as soon as you called.” He tried to match Matthew’s brisk pace as they walked to a discarded carriage. They pried open the rusty doors. Inside, a corpse laid flaccidly on black plastic sheets on the floor. It still looked pink-fresh. Hours old maybe.
“You have ten minutes, doctor. Harvest everything.”
Talk about a side-hustle for this doctor!
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less. Click the frog to submit your story.