2,148 Local Area Residents Missing – Friday Fictioneers

2,148 people are missing after a flash of white light appeared in the sky Tuesday. Area woman Whitney Miser captured the moment on film at Splasher’s pool. “One minute my son was doing the backstroke, and the next he was gone!” she told channel 7 news. “It’s coincidence I took the picture at the exact moment it happened.” She hopes the financial reward for the photo will make up for losing her son. Local resident Leonard Fibber reports every member of his church is missing, though he doubts it was the rapture as a big silver disc fell into his cow pasture the same day. “It’s a big’n,” Leonard says. “Big enough to hold all them people that’r missin’.” Channel 7 is unable to confirm this however, as Leonard has a big rifle and will not let us onto his property.

—————————————————————————————————————————Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories inspired by a photo that Rochelle Wisoff Fields posts every week.  This week’s photo courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Quiet Bias – Friday Fictioneers

I live across the street from a synagogue, and there are days when I can’t find anywhere to park—I drive around for 10 whole minutes looking sometimes! It’s ridiculous! I mean, it’s true the synagogue was here first, but sometimes the streets are simply too full. So I write notes, short messages, letting them know to park elsewhere. I put them on cars. And now they are crying ‘hate crime’! Imagine that! I mean, I love Israel just as any true American patriot would! And just last week I bought flowers from a colored boy on the street—he was one of the good ones, such a nice young man. So to say ‘hate crime’ is just ridiculous! I don’t know what those people think, but somehow I’d like to reclaim my street!

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quiet racism:

form of racism expressed subtly and indirectly through feelings of discomfort, uneasiness, and fear, which motivate avoidance rather than blatant discrimination. they consider themselves unbiased and non prejudiced. (https://quizlet.com/17191346/sociology-chapter-11-race-and-ethnicity-flash-cards/)

 

Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories inspired by a photo that Rochelle Wisoff Fields posts every week.  This week’s photo courtesy of Roger Bultot.

The Quite Timely Demise of Jack – Friday Fictioneers

The sun would be up soon, they needed to work faster. The ladies took turns spitting on the bundle when they finished weighing it down, “this is for Mary,” one said, kicking the reddening burlap.

“Alright, let’s get this to the river,” the tallest said. “And remember, we were working the whole night, each of us. Inspector Abberline can’t ever find out.”

It took all of them to carry the package from St George’s down to the Thames, a ten minute walk. And there Jack was dropped in without a word.

“That’s it, go home,” the tall girl said. “The streets will be safer for us tonight.”

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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories inspired by a photo that Rochelle Wisoff Fields posts every week.  This week’s photo courtesy of Roger Bultot.

Ivory Thieves

Bear this in mind… I don’t write poetry. But there is something very poetic in this photo, and that something—whatever it is—inspired me this week.

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The dead of ivory gone

88 keys stripped bare

The white is their treasure

Not the music that soars emotion among heights and depths

Not the sonorous miracle peculiar to this ambitious creation

Not the woodwork that curves beautifully, gracefully strong

They want white whom can only lay lifeless, void of sound or joy on their own.

Those cold and finite thieves steal away the dead,

And leave the bones of the miraculous to grow new life.

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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories inspired by a photo that Rochelle Wisoff Fields posts every week.  This week’s photo courtesy of Anshu Bhojnagarwala

 

 

Field Trip – Friday Fictioneers

“Now, these did not fly,” the guide said. “They would roll the individual along the ground, which took time and used large amounts of fossil fuels, which polluted the environment…”

“God, these field trips are boring”, she whispered to her friend. “I’ve been to this planet every year since 3^rd grade, and it’s always lame!”

Her friend giggled, “I know! I hate this place. I bet the humans died off out of sheer boredom! Plus it smells sooo bad!”

“You may notice the air is toxic, this is due to pollutants from the various fossil fuels,” the guide said.

The girls plugged their noses.

The guide went on, “It’s a perfect lesson on the importance of taking care of your environment. Now let’s visit a waste dump.”

The girls collectively rolled their eyes.

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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories inspired by a photo that Rochelle Wisoff Fields posts every week.  This week’s photo courtesy of Ted Strutz .

The Pitfall’s Lure

“Oh look, tea!” she said, peering in from the darkness of an overgrown boggy forest. Her husband looked around, the outside walls were beautifully green and smooth—and the room inside was inviting. But something was off. “I don’t know, this doesn’t seem right,” he said. His wife headed straight for the refreshments, “we’ve been hiking for twenty minutes! I need a break!” He followed her in. She reached for a cup, “Weird, it’s stuck, and it’s all…sticky!” Outside, one oversized leaf lobe began to close the room shut. “Did you hear something,” her husband said. “No, dear, but could you help me get this cup off my hand?” she asked, just before the pitcher’s digestive enzymes began to fill the room.

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In the plant world, there are “at least 583 species that attract, trap, and kill prey…”

The Pitcher plant is one of them. It is known as a pitfall trap.

“Pitfall traps attract prey with nectar bribes…within the pitcher.”

And what better way to attract a human than with refreshments (or maybe money)

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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories inspired by a photo that Rochelle Wisoff Fields posts every week.  This week’s photo courtesy of Priorhouse .

 

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“Carnivorous plant.” wikipedia, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carnivorous_plant. Accessed 26 Sept. 2018.

Grandma Made It

“Grandma made it, says it’ll take her home.”

“Home, where?”

“Dunno, Dad, she doesn’t make sense anymore.”

“Yeah,” he said, jingling the chains.

“Last week she told me a nude Harry Truman kept waking her up at night”

He shuddered.

“Truman gave me the schematics.” Grandma said, shuffling up behind her son and granddaughter who turned to give her a hand. “Said it’ll take us home, said it’s my time. Don’t know why he’s nude though.”

“Who welded…” her son began, turning toward the contraption, but it was gone. There was a black mark in the grass where it had sat just seconds before. A faint metallic smell hung in the air. He jumped back, startled.

“Mom! What…” He began, turning back to question the old woman.

But she was gone too.

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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories inspired by a photo that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every week.  This week’s photo courtesy of Douglas M. MacIlroy .

 

Jesus: The Early Years – Friday Fictioneers

A Quick Disclaimer: This story is a tiny bit blasphemous (maybe, depending on how sensitive you are). Carry on if you’re ok with that.

Jesus: The Early Years

The sound of waves on the shore woke Jesus. He opened His eyes slowly; His head ached and He could tell already His pants were missing. He sat up, “Hey!” He croaked, coughing and struggling to get to His feet. “Hey! Peter! Get up!”

Peter rose gingerly and stumbled towards the water, “I gotta take a piss,” he said. “Man! How much water did you turn to wine last night anyway? I mean look at that chair! Did you get tired of walking out there or something?”

Jesus looked around, He couldn’t remember any of it.

Peter unzipped his pants by the lake, “Jesus Christ! Your Dad’s gonna be pissed!”

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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories inspired by a photo that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every week.  This week’s photo courtesy of Ted Strutz.

 

 

The Door – Friday Fictioneers

It’s a museum now, with a purple door. I remember the purple being darker. And I remember my grandmother’s fresh pfeffernüsse cookies that once lingered behind that door on so many Saturday mornings.

I didn’t know then that not every grandma hid families in the attic, families you could never speak of. Until the day they came to take the families away, and they took my grandmother too, the neighbor’s yelling “Juden” and ” Schieß” at all of us, even though we weren’t Jewish. I never saw my grandmother again.

Tears fall hot down my face as I touch the gold chain. At least now their memories will be honored. Finally.

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Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories inspired by a photo that Rochelle Wisoff Fields  posts every week.  This weeks photo courtesy of ceayr.

 

 

The Box – Friday Fictioneers

The Box

There was only one valuable thing on the shelf, and it was making him sweat. He prayed no one else would pick it up, he prayed she would notice it.

“Well let’s go down to the beach then,” she said to him.

“Wait, look at this…rock. With the face,” he said.

She smiled at him in placation. “Yeah, It’s…a face.”

Possibly out of boredom, since they had stood at the old case for an awkwardly long time, her hand moved to the silver box. His heart skipped a beat when she picked it up and he felt faint when she opened it. But when she gasped and asked if it was for her, he relaxed. And as she took the ring out of the box, he dropped down on one knee.

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Friday Fictioneers: A story in 100 words prompted by a photo posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. This weeks picture provided by Claire Fuller.