"Forgetfulness. Camera lens cover. Bad photography."
Written for the #SixWordStoryChallenge
"Forgetfulness. Camera lens cover. Bad photography."
Written for the #SixWordStoryChallenge
PHOTO PROMPT © J.S. Brand
Hector had trouble concentrating.
“Stop eyeing the busty boss, and get to it!” Alan, commanded him, mouth twisting around a chewed up twig.
“I wasn’t even looking at her bust – quick, she’s coming! Look busy!”
“I have been busy.”
A white summer dress breezed towards them, skimming slim calves. She tapped on the carved wood, sighed and cocked her head. “Boys, this is no good. It needs to be more… interesting. More depth. It’s too shallow.” The wind carried her off.
“I think she’s talking about you.” Hector grinned. Then, “You think she was flirting with me?’
“Work!” growled Alan.
Well, one can always wish, Hector.
Hope you enjoyed this week’s flash fiction. Thanks To J.S Brand for this week’s intriguing prompt.
Written for Friday Fictoneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less.
Click the blue frog for more stories by awesome writers / friends.
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
The painting caught her eye on her first day of work at the museum. Art always spoke to some part of her, but this was different. The sinking ship was vivid and disturbingly familiar, although it was hundreds of years old.
That sense of familiarity stayed with her long after she left work at closing time. Following her into her dreams, where people beside her leapt off the sides of the sinking ship into icy waters. A little boy cried as she tried to soothe him in a language she shouldn’t have known, while icy fear turned her skin pale.
I’m not a believer in past lives or reincarnation. They make for interesting stories though, don’t they?
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less.
Click the blue frog to read more flash fiction by other authors, or to submit you own.
When I made my quiet return to my passion of writing, I began with a course in creative writing, and short story writing. Part of this course was to read and read and read. And read some more.
During this course I discovered the grandfathers of science fiction, Jules Verne and HG Wells. And then I stumbled upon The Star by Arthur C. Clarke.
“The joys of life are often in those moments of stumbling when expectation is at its lowest so that the impact of the discovery is at its greatest.”
(Yes, feel free to quote me on that.)
This story written in the 1950s about space exploration towards a star that – oh, wait. I’ll let this description from Kings Alumni Community tell it for me.
“The Star” is the story of a group of space explorers from Earth returning from an expedition to a remote star system, where they discovered the remnants of an advanced civilization destroyed when their sun went supernova. Their chief astrophysicist, a Jesuit priest, is suffering from a deep crisis of faith, triggered by some undisclosed event during the journey. This story appeared in the magazine Infinity Science Fiction in 1955 and won the Hugo award in 1956. It later appeared in Arthur C Clarke’s book of short stories, The Other Side of the Sky.
Something about ‘crisis of faith‘ and ‘advanced civilisation destroyed‘ and ‘supernova‘ pulled me in. Tickling my own questions on religion and humanity. On universal love and connection beyond human contemplation let alone understanding. And also, what was a Jesuit priest doing leading a space expedition?!
This marked the beginning of a hidden love for sic-fi and fantasy that I wasn’t even aware of. The way it was able to explore humanity and question deeply between right and wrong, even redefining ideas completely, appealed to my inner philosopher.
And by the end of this short trip to space, I was forever changed.
New dimensions opening.
Ending with a question, it triggered many of my own questions.
You can read Arthur C. Clarke’s short story The Star, here.
“It is three thousand light-years to the Vatican. Once, I believed that space could have no power over faith, just as I believed the heavens declared the glory of God’s handiwork. Now I have seen that handiwork, and my faith is sorely troubled. I stare at the crucifix that hangs on the cabin wall above the Mark VI Computer, and for the first time in my life I wonder if it is no more than an empty symbol.” click to read on
PHOTO PROMPT © Jilly Funell
In the old days, we had magic mirrors, crystal balls and reflection pools. Today we have Facebook. Fairy God Mother was eager to see what her princesses were up to.
An image popped up of a yellow-haired beauty, locks trailing the floors of a refurbished circular room. Guten Tag! Renovations completed! Hashtag new life begins.
FGM smiled, then grimaced at the next image.
Another blonde pouted, in that awful duck face. Date night with my prince! In the comments a brunette posted, Enjoy the honeymoon phase while it lasts, Cindy. Once a beast always a beast.
Oh Belle, sighed FGM.
I hope you enjoyed my modern take on fairytale princesses. I quite enjoyed writing this too.
Thought I would add this much needed update: The abbreviated form of Fairy God Mother to FGM was definitely intended for humour. However I did not have enough words to add a tidy quip that it didn’t have any references to genital mutilation of any kind.
And the three princesses are in sequential order: Rapunzel, Cinderella and Belle from Beauty and the Beast.
Is anyone here participating in NaNoWriMo? I plan on doing it this year. Properly this time. 😉
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less. Go!
Click the blue frog icon to read more flash fiction or to add yours to the list.
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Scuffling at the entrance caught little Paul’s attention. Through the wide church entrance he saw the priest, and some church elders, arguing with her.
She caught his eye then, watery blue. Then she looked at her adversaries and turned around, down the steps away from the church. The elders watching after her, ensuring her retreat.
“It is a shame.” muttered Mama. “Her father built this very church. And now she cannot enter.”
“She believes in things the elders do not.”
“People say she is a witch.”
Paul remembered her eyes. “I think she’s more of a fairy.”
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge should you wish to accept it, is to write a story in 100 words or less.
Thanks to group leader Rochelle for this week’s intriguing image that led me to thoughts of cathedrals, witches, outcasts and fairies.
Click the blue frog to read more flash fiction or to upload your own story.
PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook
“I can’t believe you just ate it, Sheldon!” Betty sighed on the other end of the phone line.
“What else does one do with cupcakes?”
“Never mind. Did you at least look at the clue?”
“On the icing. I drew it on with icing.”
“Betty, you can’t even draw with a pencil. Look, it was on my table on top of my notes, I thought you left me a sweet birthday surprise.”
“It was a surprise. A treasure hunt surprise.”
“By the way it was a tad too sweet.”
“You are literally clueless.”
“Wha – hello? Betty, you there? Hello?”
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less. Thanks to Sandra for this week’s prompt.
Click the blue frog to add your flash fiction and read what others have written.
I’ve joined in a bit late this week. But better late than never.
I’m in the middle of a glorious drug withdrawal. Prescription drugs. All legal – but no less debilitating than if I was a recovering heroin junkie. On the bright side, it means autoimmune disease is under control with less medication.
Back on the dark side, it means my sarcasm is at dangerously high levels.
PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
“If you come back now, Mordow will forgive everything.” Samson called to her, his subordinates blocking the alley entrance behind him.
Reya’s heart squeezed at the sight of him. “You don’t know who they really are. Come with me, Sam.”
She thought she saw a flash in his eyes. Of love. “I’m not a traitor.”
“Your choice.” She scrambled over the slippery wall, landing in the piazza, crowded with tourists braving the rain. A sea of umbrellas spilled before her. She ran to the thickest part and looked back to see Samson standing on top of the wall. Searching hopelessly.
Trying to squeeze in my flash fiction for this week. Hope you all enjoy it. My story reflects my enduring search for Truth and Love. Which to me are the same thing. Truth exists despite lies, denial. So does Love. More than that, I’m learning that love shines a light on the truth.
Thanks to Dale Rogerson for this week’s prompt. Such an awesome image, that I was struck with writer’s block for once.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields where the challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less.
Looks like we’re in Europe this week for my story. I experienced those crowded piazzas on a solo trip to Italy a few years ago. Awesome vibe. Amazing sights.
PHOTO PROMPT © Gah Learner
Mishka pulled the curtain aside, hoping to see a window. Her heart sank when she saw it was boarded up shut with wooden planks. Her breath came in sobs, heart thudding faster in her chest. Was her mother looking for her? Thoughts of her mother brought fresh tears.
A woman entered the room. She wasn’t in the car when those men pulled her into it on her way to school. Hope rose like a red balloon in her chest.
“Please ma’am. I want to go to my mommy.”
She eyed her up and down. And shut the door.
Not one of my favourite stories, but only because of the topic. This was extremely difficult to write. Usually I have no issues connecting with my dark side to conjure up all sorts of evil and crime. But to try to empathise with a child, kidnapped from her safe world, not knowing what will happen to her, or if she’ll see her family, friends and school again, was heart-breaking for me.
Child trafficking is on the rise. At ridiculous levels. I find it intolerable that elected governments are so quick to initiate changes to taxes, fuel prices, land appropriation or other laws that line their pockets. But horrendously slow to put a stop to crime. Rather it feels as if they create a safe haven for such syndicates to operate in. I can bet anything, that due to the rapid increase in child trafficking, it points to politicians or other high-level officials lining their pockets from this modern day slavery.
In South Africa, children cannot walk to school without running a high risk of being kidnapped and disappearing into thin air. They’re taking children from outside the school gates. Last week, they smashed the rear window of a car, to try to steal a baby from his car seat. This is the level of desperation and enticingly lucrative nature of child trafficking. Luckily, the mother managed to drive away and they failed to unbuckle him in time.
The culprits should be given a life sentence or the death penalty. A child kidnapped and sold into slavery has had her life taken from her.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less. Click the blue frog icon to read more flash fiction.
PHOTO PROMPT © Nathan Sowers (courtesy of Dawn M. Miller)
Ruby Johnson hung the mirror near the front door. A special mirror that showed man’s true nature. But only on the first reflection. After that it showed up meaningless different colours like a mood ring.
Her husband’s image had glowed a brilliant white. So she married him. Her friend Nina, a dull purplish-gray. That friendship didn’t last. Now its latest revelation perplexed her.
Her son, who had till now been too short to be reflected in the mirror, turned it to a chalky black speckled with red. She did what any mother would do. She smashed the mirror to smithereens.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who is the fairest of us all?” What an awesome image this week. Thanks to Nathan Sowers courtesy of Dawn Miller.
I wish I had this mirror. Wonder if it would make navigating through life easier? Unless it tells you a truth you’d rather not believe in.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less.
Click the blue frog icon for more flash fiction or to add your own.