Friday Fictioneers – Lost

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Searching was harder at night. Everything looked different under the moon and the shadows seemed so dark and almost alive like they wanted to swallow her up.
She called his name again, “Buddy! Here boy! Please!” But the only response was the crunching of dried leaves under her feet. He’d been gone for twenty hours, and everything about her hurt.
And then she heard a whistle, faint, far off behind the trees. She turned and ran towards the sound, as fast as she could, though it was barely a jog. The blisters on her heels were bleeding and she hadn’t had a drop of water for twenty hours.
She crossed a set of railroad tracks and heard him bark through the trees, and she could see a crowd of figures with flashlights. “There she is!” she heard her father say.
Falling into the grass, she watched the crowd run toward her, and she closed her eyes until she felt Buddy’s wet tongue on her cheek and his desperate whimpers. She smiled for the first time all day, she was safe now. Finally. And so was Buddy.

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Way over on word count. Gotta get back in the groove of writing.

I’ve been missing from Fictioneers for so long, but not by choice. My life has been turned upside down in so many different ways and I’m still trying to pick up the pieces. Hoping to find a new normal very soon.

Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories prompted by a picture that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every Wednesday. Around 100 people participate, their stories and poems are brilliant; check them out here.

Photo credit: Madison Woods

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Friday Fictioneers – Weirdos Like Them

There are people who aren’t supposed to be in relationships. I’m one of them. I didn’t know that, of course, since everyone thinks single people are weirdo’s. So I got married, so I wouldn’t be a weirdo.  A month into it, I knew it was a mistake. I had to escape. I tried to hop a freighter out of town, but they caught me a mile into the desert. They put me in a straight jacket again and threw me in the van. Back at the state hospital, they tell me I’m right, not everyone’s meant to be in a relationship. They say I never was… in a relationship, that is. They say I was never married. But it’s hard to believe them. They’re not married. And it’s hard to believe wierdos.

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A bit experimental this week. I’m taking a writing course and am being challenged to think outside the box. Please let me know what you think; what worked, what didn’t work. Thank you!

Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories prompted by a picture that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every Wednesday. Around 100 people participate, their stories and poems are brilliant; check them out here.

The Last Breath – feedback appreciated!

This story is for my intermediate fiction class, and I’d love to hear your thoughts on it before I turn it in. The assignment calls for a lot of description and adverbs… Not my usual style, but I tried. Let me know what you think.

The Last Breath

Heat waves danced off the flat roof of the prison in the distance and the paved roads seemed to shimmer and move under the hot sun. The fields surrounding the sprawling one story building were brown and dry and there wasn’t a tree or hill in sight. She drove through the expanse in silence, the miles making the prison bigger, and the closer they got, the more she wanted to throw up.

She stopped her car before the entrance. There were crowds of people, divided by the sun bleached road; on one side they held signs that said, “Capital Punishment Equals Murder,” and on the other side the signs read, “Fry The Bastard.”

“Are you ready for this, Ally?” her older brother Justin asked. He flipped the visor down to check the mirror, smoothing his brown hair with his fingers.

“No,” she answered, though just yesterday she had answered that question with a “definitely.” It was the only part left, her dad and younger brother Brian had been buried for five years, and this would be the end of it all. The last thing. Continue reading

Friday Fictioneers – #so bored



Her dad told her to stop texting, but she couldn’t help it: “a bunch of old geezers playing old music, #so bored”. She didn’t know one of the old geezers had come to America from Sweden alone, at age 15, without speaking a word of English. One of them, at age 16, had lied about his age to join the Army so he could parachute into Normandy on June 6th, 1944. One of them, at age 19, had worked as a nanny for Queen Elizabeth. And still another robbed banks as a teenager, and had saved up the money he stole, some of which he finally used to buy his granddaughter a smartphone. 

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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories prompted by a picture that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every Wednesday. Around 100 people participate, their stories and poems are brilliant; check them out here. Photo ©David Stewart.

Friday Fictioneers – Making Sure



The frosty grass crunched under my bare feet, my toes numb. The muscles in my legs weak after walking so long. I could still smell smoke in the cold morning air.

I had rinsed the gasoline off my hands in a stream, the cold water had hurt so bad, deep down in the bone. But my hands went numb after that too, the pain invisible now. The only pain left was in my heart, in my soul.

But this was it, freedom, no more punching, no more words. He was gone for good, I made sure of that.

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Under 100 words this time! I’ve never managed that before. 

Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories prompted by a picture that  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts  every Wednesday. Around 100 people participate, their stories and poems are brilliant; check them out here.

Friday Fictioneers – Natural Instincts

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She was so mad at him. Now they were stuck, in the middle of nowhere, with no food and just one bottle of water. And the next rail station was forty miles ahead.
She walked in front of him, muttering, complaining, under her breath. He hung his head.
“I don’t care what you see out an open door,” she yelled, “even if it’s going slow, you don’t jump off a moving train!” She turned and looked down at her traveling partner, “You have plenty of birds to chase at home! Why here?” And she turned back around to keep walking.

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Yeah! 100 words exactly, why is that so satisfying!? 🙂

Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories prompted by a picture that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every Wednesday. Around 100 people participate, their stories and poems are brilliant; check them out here.

Friday Fictioneers – 46 & 2

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The crystals were supposed to usher him into the next level of human evolution. He didn’t know what that would be, since no one had done it yet; maybe he would be able to see into the future, or read other people’s minds. Something, anything other than what he was.
But the crystals broke apart during shipping, and the online seller had disappeared.
He’d spent most of his money on the crystals though, and before that, he’d spent all his money on higher level consciousness classes, and before that it was something else.
Finally he found a link, to a different website, that said what he really needed was a talisman, and his heart skipped beat as he clicked the Paypal button.

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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories prompted by a picture that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every Wednesday. Around 100 people participate, their stories and poems are brilliant; check them out here.

Friday Fictioneers – Punishment

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She stood on the porch and watched the carriage disappear down the lane. He would never come back, though she thought they were a good match—in that their marriage would have resulted in significant financial gains for both families. She couldn’t figure what went wrong, she was a perfect lady.
It had to have been her maid, the house slave.
Upstairs, she cornered the maid, “I know it was you, you did something…”
“Ma’am?” the maid said, unknowing and innocent, but not surprised by her mistresses words.
“I will have you whipped,” she said. “Little devil. No slave of mine will get away with driving my suitors away.” And she ran from the room, not willing to let the maid see her cry.

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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories prompted by a picture that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every Wednesday. Around 100 people participate, their stories and poems are brilliant; check them out here.

Friday Fictioneers – The Return

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She stood in front, wanting to get lost but seeing that possibility would be quite impossible. The maze couldn’t be her escape, it was small and the hedge was only waist high. She closed her eyes and felt the morning air on her cheeks, crisp and still. With her eyes shut, she knew, looking for momentary escapes like this was no longer the solution. A soft wind blew across her and she opened her eyes. It blew toward the road, away from the inn, and she followed it, away from him asleep in their room, away from his words, away. As she walked with the wind, she felt her own self, her old self, return—the friend she had been missing for too many years.
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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories prompted by a picture that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every Wednesday. Around 100 people participate, their stories and poems are brilliant; check them out here.