PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter
They were in full bloom now. Red. Pink. White. Yellow roses had been Anna-May’s favourite. A bouquet of fresh buttery roses always cheered her up. Especially after they argued. Shame flushed through him as he remembered. Raised fists. Hurt and anger. Sobering shame. She always forgave him. Until that day her skull cracked. He had wiped the kitchen wall clean of her blood and his tears and got the shovel from her garden shed. He glanced at the ground beneath the rose bushes. Now Anna-May would always have her yellow roses near her. And she would always be his.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The Challenge is to write a story in 100 words or less. Submit your flash fiction to the frog link below and read what other’s have written too. Thanks to Sarah Potter for her photo prompt contribution.
PHOTO PROMPT © Susan Eames
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.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-FieldsOut. Write a story in 100 words or less.
Click to submit and read other flash fiction.
PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn M. Miller
Trix leaned against the wall. His broken leg wrapped pointlessly with a shirt. Soraya looked around the tunnel, packed with grimy, injured survivors. Weary from fear.
“I was going to ask her to… marry me.”
“I’m sorry, Trix. But she’s gone. She wouldn’t have made it.”
“If she’s alive… she needs help.” Words dribbled out of his cracked lips.
She held a water bottle up to his lips. The thought of Mira alive, alone with those things, moved her.
“Fine. I’ll go back for her. But I’ll need weapons. Lots of them.”
He nodded to his gun, “Start with this.”
A hundred words was not enough to portray the scene. Settled on this version.
It’s been a while. Looking forward to mingling with you wonderful people once again!
Written for Friday Fictioneers. Write a story in 100 words or less. Click the blue frog to add yours or read more flash fiction based on this week’s image prompt provided by Dawn M. Miller.
get the InLinkz code
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.
get the InLinkz code
PHOTO PROMPT © Ronda Del Boccio
Andersen found mowing the lawn unexpectedly therapeutic. At first he loathed it. Now he found it strangely satisfying to see it cleanly cut. A car pulled up at the house opposite. A tall man emerged. Andersen smiled, waved at his neighbour. It had only been a few months but he knew him so well already.
He waited till he closed his front door. Then Andersen lit a cigarette, eyeing the plumbing van on the street.
Swat teams emerged in stealth mode from the van, surrounding his neighbour’s house.
Oh yes, Andersen loved the satisfaction of a job well done.
Grass to marijuana to drugs to human trafficking or other crime syndicates. That was my thought process for an undercover agent story 😉
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Write a story in 100 words or less.
Click the blue frog to read more flash fiction.
get the InLinkz code
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz
His question caught her off-guard. The room spun around her and she gripped the edges of the lectern to steady herself.
“Ms Silver, how would you explain the Hannah May incident?”
It was no secret that she had been Hannah’s life coach. A fact that tormented her. Buried guilt rose from past failures. Oversights.
It was she who had encouraged her to push past her fears, return to her love of sailing. She died in the storm of 2004. Neither sailboat nor her body was ever found.
Ms Silver found her voice, “Hannah May was brave enough to follow her dreams.”
Life coaches are amazingly positive people. And I’m sure they have their demons too. Ones they wrestle with and from which they find their own growth. Whatever the situation, it’s important to face fears that keep you from your dreams or the change you want to make in your life.
Have a happy Wednesday!
get the InLinkz code
PHOTO PROMPT © Danny Bowman
“Why can’t I go to my old school?” I sobbed.
“Because we live here now, Mitch, and your old school is hundreds of miles away.” Dad replied.
Dad promised that I would love the new city, the new house and my new school. I didn’t trust the promises adults made. I used to believe everything they said. You’re my little boy, Mitch. I’ll always be right here with you. That’s what mom used to tell me. Then she left and I never saw her again.
Dad calls her a nasty cyst. Whatever that is. I just miss her.
**nasty cyst = narcissist (Of course, Mitch doesn’t know what a narcissist is and hears something different 🙂 )
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle, where the challenge is to write a complete story in 100 words or less.
I had trouble accessing the link last week (don’t know why) and so if you haven’t yet read my FF post from last week, you may read it here: Ransom.
Click here to read more flash fiction.
PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young
Shona pulled up her collar. A fine mist gathered around the group, complicit in their betrayal.
Everything about death was cold. Light leaves the eyes. Blood stops flowing, warmth dissipates. But this arm, though limp in her grasp, felt warm.
She wished she could turn back time. Just an hour. Before it all went wrong. She knew they were on the point of no return as they tossed their friend into the shallow hole in the ground, and covered her with dirt. Shona watched till the dirt piled high, then they patted it flat and covered it with dry leaves.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by the awesome Rochelle where we’re challenged to write flash fiction, an entire story with beginning, middle and end in 100 words or less.
Click to read more flash fiction.