I was never allowed anywhere near my grandfather’s Desk when he was alive. I can still see him hunched over, writing hours on end, fountain pen gliding over paper. Even now the faint hint of pipe tobacco calms me. His … Continue reading
PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright-Björn Rudberg
The house wasn’t much to look at but the location was perfect. Amy had dreamed of living upon the hill where nothing but the azure expanse laid before them. And he’d do anything for his queen. Painstakingly he’d laid stones upon their foundation, planted trees for privacy, a secret garden just for her. The hammock slung along the rockery for Stacey to read in, little Brian’s crib against the far wall.
The dream so close, some days he forgot the plane was lost. Walking the halls he tried to remember their faces, hear their laughter and will himself to live.
(100 Words)
Welcome to Friday Fictioneers! As per usual, our esteemed host Rochelle posts a photo with the challenge of writing a 100 words something. One of these days I’ll have to try another poem. Make sure to check out the other writers entries HERE.
Photo Copyright –Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Last time I made this trip I was flying away from him. Or was it towards the other one? Sam thought, wistfully staring through the airplane window. At 18, who can say? She pondered with a smile. Looking out she half expected to see a gargoyle perched atop the wing, matching her mood and the sky.
Who knew this is what it would take to force her to face her family.
“Please return your seats and trays to their upright position in preparation for landing.” Placing his hands lovingly around her, Craig gently held Sam’s urn tightly in his lap.
Word Count: 100
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P.S. Please make sure to read the others.
I am trying to stay in the groove and keep writing. Of course now I need to add commenting and reading more entries to my TO DO. Honestly, check out Friday Fictioneers and join in the fun. I promise it quickly becomes addictive. Best vice you’ll ever have.
Copyright – Marie Gail Stratford
Kate flew through the doorway. This was just like her, sensing when I most needed company. Without a word, Chinese take-out in one hand, she pulled me towards the kitchen.
“I just don’t think I can do it. How do I say goodbye?”
Pushing aside my blank attempts, placing mu shu before me, she coaxed “Eat! The words will come”
“I don’t have any”….she pulled out a pair of chopsticks and topped off my wine.
“But I’m a fork girl.”
“I know, Zan. It’s for Brett, just the way he likes it, with enough Sriracha to guarantee your eyes water.
Word Count: 100
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P.S. Please make sure to read the others.
I have been away too long. Missing all my Friday Fictioneer Friends. So it seemed as good a time as any to jump back in.
For a moment it felt like college again, late night cramming, last minute paper production. I long since eclipsed this idle foolishness. Yet, here into the witching hours I race against the clock, time the reaper. I thought drawing cover art for my book of poetry would be easier. But as I inch ever closer to completion I begin to deteriorate more and more, hour glass thinning.
Doesn’t it just figure the electricity would go out? Guess it’s the universe’s way of telling this fish to swim. Ok, 2 ½ hours of battery life left to create one last masterpiece.
Word Count: 100
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P.S. Please make sure to read the others.
I know I have been lax as of late responding to comments and commenting on your stories. Mea Culpa. I’ve had a lot on my plate. I hope to have a post as way of some explanation, perhaps excuse for my internet absence. But I am ever grateful to have found my way to FF and for the community. Thanks as always to our ever gracious host Rochelle.
First Flight Can’t I just stand here on the precipice? Linger wayward a moment more. Must I go through? Decisions have to be made. No one is spared. You must choose if you are in or out. Yes, but if … Continue reading
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