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’.
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.
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.
Ameeruddin didn’t like movies. Newspapers, religious and political chatter entertained him enough. For Aisha, wash day blues took on a jealousy-fueled meaning when she discovered the ticket stubs in his jean’s pocket. Double tickets.
At dinner she suggested they go to watch the very same movie. He declined, feigning distinterest in superhero nonsense. “Besides, I’d rather take you to a romantic dinner at The Moghul.”
She smiled. Received his kiss. And later, cocooned in his post-coital embrace, willingly cast aside the mysterious movie companion in favour of hope and affection that was far easier for her tired heart to grasp.
Written for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by the inspiring Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less. Submit to the link below and join this fun community of writers.
Cole didn’t know why he thought it was a good idea to escape the group, climb a palm tree and take his client’s call there. He could have gone to the men’s toilet or some other place behind closed doors.
Doubling as a secret private investigator was becoming difficult to manage. When he returned to the group, his friend (and business partner) was convinced he was securing some secret deal without his knowledge. And his suspicious wife demanded to see his phone. He smiled inwardly in resignation as they berated him. Who said it would be easy?
I’m a huge fan of the new Magnum PI series. In this case, my MC has just started his new secondary career and decided to do it in secret.
As soon as Amy Leigh saw the blindfold, she panicked. Voices collided around her and those tiny bells reverberated in her ear. Yet she allowed her teenage children to tie it around her head. They didn’t mean any harm. She tried focusing on the celebratory voices around her. But all she could hear was his voice. Husky. With bruised lust. Her jaw ached from gritting her teeth against the blood rushing through her body.
Finally, it loosened. Bright sunlight pierced her eyes. She blinked hard and found herself sat in front of a homemade chocolate cake.
“Happy Birthday, Mum!”
I have not been on the blogging scene for a few weeks. One of those times where life takes you for a spin in its new G-force machine. Looking forward to reconnecting with you all this week!
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less. Submit to the link below and join in the literary fun.