Sunday lunch

 

She leaned back in the chair, the cold wrought iron pressing into her back. Through her grief a smile rose to her mouth. Countless Sunday lunches, warm garlic breads and ice cold lemonades. She could almost hear the chatter, the laughter ringing around the table. Young and old.

A hand touched her shoulder, she didn’t have to look to know it was her brother, Barry.

“C’mon sis, I’ll make you some tea. Let’s go inside.”

She stood up and took one last look at the chair where Dad always sat. Sunday lunch would not be the same without him.

99 words

Hooray! My picture was chosen for this week’s flash fiction, and I couldn’t be more thrilled! Thank you, group leader, Rochelle!!!!I took this picture while on holiday, and the lodge I was staying at had a sombre air about it. Later I heard from hotel the hotel staff that the father of the family-run business had just passed away. So naturally their story came to mind.

I apologise for not commenting  much on last week’s flash fiction. Life has thrown me major life changes which has given me the most confusing mix of incredible joy and sadness at the same time. I promise to double my efforts this week and read as many of this week’s posts as I can.

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by the most talented artist and writer, Rochelle Wiesoff-Fields. The challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less. Click the blue frog icon to read more awesome flash fiction by more great writers. Make coffee, sit back and enjoy 30 second stories.

 

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Unholy racket

PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg

 

This was his place. A sanctum of peace, serenity and love like no other. On top of a mountain overlooking the fields. Cloudless days allowed the horizon to kiss the earth. Today, the clouds rolled at his feet below the mountain peak. Glowing pink and yellow. He extended one foot to dip into it when a loud banging noise stopped him.

His eyes flew open. Noddy, his labrador jumped excitedly towards him and licked his face. Behind him tottered his toddler, squealing and snatching at the dog’s wagging tail.

He sighed. Five minutes of meditation would have to do.

99 words

Hope you enjoyed this attempt at flash fiction humour. Those with small children and hyperactive pets suffering from separation anxiety may relate to this somewhat.

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle-Wiesoff Fields. The challenge is to write a full story in 100 words or less.

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Sweet Karma

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

After a few hours of tracking wild spoor, he saw them. Guns raised at their shoulders, aimed at the feeding rhinos. Kruger raised his camera and then stopped. Shouldn’t he do something?  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

His camera clicked softly, capturing the perils of life as a rhino. Then through the lens, he saw a monstrous lion lunging at the two poachers, claws and teeth sinking into shoulders and backs. Guns dropped to the ground. Kruger snapped away capturing the perils of being a poacher in the territory of the savannah’s most fearsome lion.

100 words

Rhinos are nearing extinction and Southern African countries have taken up a mission to protect our indigenous wildlife. I’m proud to say that Botswana has a zero tolerance attitude to poaching and have even committed its security forces to protect our wildlife. The current president Lieutenant General Seretse Khama Ian Khama is a champion of this cause. And Prince Harry is a patron of Botswana’s conservation project: Rhino Conservation Botswana.

Another organisation is the Save The Rhino Project based in the UK.

Please do click on the links, especially the Rhino Conservation Botswana project . And see what is being done to save this incredible animal, why they’re important and what you can do to help.

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wiesoff-Fields where the challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less.

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Meet me in the land of dreams

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

We sat in the gardens of an ancient ruins, side by side. Laughing with the ghost of my mother. She looked young like me, but felt older.  Behind us the shrubbery crawled over an abandoned castle, most of it gone. What stood was crumbling.  Above us thick green canopies shaded us.

“When will we meet again?” I asked her, taking note how black her hair was, without the strands of grey that sprouted when she was still with us.

She offered me only a knowing smile as her answer.

Of course. I wasn’t permitted to the knowledge of the unseen.

100 words

My mother passed away two years ago. Yet I never feel as if she is gone. I still feel her overbearing, sometimes annoying, presence with me. (This was really how our relationship was! No angelic talk here 🙂 )

And when I dream of her, it feels as if I’m really seeing her, and in the dream I’m aware she has passed on.

There have been many dreams of her. The year she died, she came into one of my dreams on the eve of my birthday and I hugged her in delight, knowing she was not with us.

The above story is part of one of the dreams I had of her, where there was an abandoned castle behind us.

Proudly written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by our leading writer, Rochelle Wiesoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less! Click the frog icon to read more flash fiction by other awesome writers.

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The magic within

get the InLinkz codeImage by GOROYBOY

They were coming! He tripped over roots and rocks and sliced his hands and knees.

In his mind he saw only his daughter. Would Little Ayla understand? He spent a lifetime locked in his cramped room writing books by oil lamps. And now those books were burned to ash, by the orders of the government who sought to punish him for disobedience and disruption. What did he know of disruption? He was a teacher not a warrior.

All he did was show his students their inner power. Revolution had sprung.

Panting, he thought it odd that even in this moment, he had inspiration. He would write and teach till his last breath. Dipping his finger in the blood that trickled from his slivered palm, he wrote on the sleeve of his robe.

A sharp pain pierced his shoulder, and when he reached towards it he pulled out an arrow. He could barely hear the sounds of horsemen approaching and as he fell his eyes rested on his own script on his sleeve, Love yourself.

174 words

The image was so evocative of magic and I’ve been reading about true self love as opposed to regular TLC. True self love is more difficult and life changing. And it is our own inner magic in a way. So this is where my mind took me when I saw this image. Thank you to Goroyboy for providing it for this week’s prompt!

Written for FFfAW (Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers).

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Fine lines of the heart

PHOTO PROMPT © Marie Gail Stratford

 

Zahra leaned towards the mirror, dabbing eye cream around her eyes hoping to see those dreaded fine lines vanish. She turned her face in the dim light, trying to catch a glimpse of the smooth-faced beauty that once won her pageant titles.

Her husband appeared behind her reflection. “Still as beautiful as ever!”

She smiled softly. She never noticed just how grey his hair had become. Were those wrinkles on his face from years of laughter, or from sadness? Guilt pinched her heart.

She took his face in her hands and planted a kiss on his eager lips.

98 words

The image made me think of a flower that has lost its bloom, and that led to thoughts of ageing beauties. Zahra, in arabic, means flower.

This story was in part inspired by a poem I once read about an ageing couple, (the title and poet eludes me, sorry). The husband looked at the lines on his wife’s face and found beauty in them, because they were borne from the history of their lives together.

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by, Rochelle Wiesoff-Fields. The challenge is to write a full story in 100 words or less. Click the blue frog to read more flash fiction from other writers.

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Innocence on snow

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

 

“What’s your favourite animal?” Clifford blew into his gloved hands and rubbed them together. He glanced at his step-daughter who skipped and hopped beside him. Each time her boots kicked up snow, she giggled. And something warm kindled inside him. He hoped she was warm enough.

“That’s easy. Unicorns.” She answered without skipping a beat.

“Unicorns? Izzy, they’re not real.” He bit his lip.

She stopped and bent to draw in the snow. “How do you know?”

“Well, I’ve never seen one.”

“Doesn’t mean they’re not there.” A snowball hit him square in the face and Izzy skipped away, laughing.

100 words

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by talented author and artist, Rochelle. Write a story in 100 words or less. Click the blue frog to read more flash fiction from other writers.

 

Thanks to Dale Rogerson for providing this week’s image prompt. Cosy and warm, despite the obvious cold weather. Personally, I hope Izzy always believes in the magic of unicorns.

 

Cold tea and cigarettes

PHOTO PROMPT © JS Brand

 

Viggo awoke to the aroma of spiced tea. Smiling sleepily, he reached across the bed towards her but his hand fell on worn sheets.

He bolted upright. The boat lulled gently in the tide.

A single cup of tea sat on the counter by the sink. And a packet of his favourite cigarettes.

Lighting one he blew grey smoke around his tiny cabin. He loosed a slow sad chuckle. She was saying goodbye in the best way she knew how. Tempest, his beautiful gypsy woman of never-ending horizons was gone.

He sipped his tea. Cold from waiting too long.

99 words

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by leader Rochelle. The challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less.

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A friend in need

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Bindi split the wood with a satisfying crack. Sarah always asked her why she did men’s work. Sarah did nothing but sit pretty. And since she had come to her homeless and in need, Bindi had come to hate her backstabbing, ungrateful ways.

“Have you seen Sarah anywhere?” Her husband Greg appeared unexpectedly. Wouldn’t you like to know? she thought.

Gazing off into the forest bordering their farm, she shrugged. “Probably ran away again.”

A smear of blood near the axe handle caught her eye.

“We ought to get a new axe. This one has seen its last.”

99 words

This serene picture of chopped wood discs, (thanks to Rochelle for this week’s image) inspired me back to thrillers. Guess where Bindi hid Sarah’s body?

Written for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle where the challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less.

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The Aftermath

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

“I feel sad.” said Afshan.

Aabid knew, but encouraged his daughter to talk, “Oh, why do you feel sad?”
He flung a piece of rubble the size of a football to the side. His arms trembled. The bombs struck in darkness. That was two weeks and three burials ago. Memories of his wife and two children clutched at his heart.

“Everything is gone. Ruined.” Such big words for a little girl, he thought sadly.

“Yes.” Grief threatened him as he was violently confronted by the ruins of his former life. “All we can do is look ahead. Start over.”

99 words

Written for Friday Fictioneers where the challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less. Hosted by leading flash fictioneer, Rochelle.

Thanks to Sandra Cook for providing this week’s photo prompt.

Things can change so quickly in life. Enjoy the present moment, and surrender to whatever it holds for you. A good attitude goes a long way. I tried to depict this in this week’s flash fiction, with Aabid surrendering to his loss and still looking ahead to whatever Life brings his way. I struggled with the title on this one.. The Aftermath was the best that came to mind…

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