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.

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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.

The Last Thing You See – Friday Fictioneers

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The first thing you see are the eyes. At least you think they’re eyes, all you really see are reflected lights. Two of them, outside the window at night. But you didn’t get a good look, it was more like a flash out the corner of your own eyes. And when you move to get a better look, they’re gone. But you know there was something, so you freeze, and squint out the window.
A second later you see white, bright. You don’t know what it is either, but after the white everything goes black, and that’s the last thing you ever see.

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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 Credit: Janet Webb

Fire Angel – Friday Fictioneers

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She came through fire,
and she will return through fire,
her path is straight
she knows precisely what to do.
All the girls, being used
abused
spit on, hit on, hurt
looked down on,
she will lift up,
and make strong.
These women, who’ve been scarred inside and out,
she will avenge.
She will hunt the oppressors down
and end them
with fire.
Because her heart has known pain
and her mind has known fear
at the hands of one who was meant to love her.
It pushed her through flame
making her see, giving her strength.
And now she will not abide
the abuse
on any of her daughters
anymore.
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Wow, so late this week (last week?) Better late than never, I suppose.

Friday Fictioneers: a story in 100 words prompted by a picture that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every Wednesday.

Here’s a link to the rest of the stories for this week: Friday Fictioneer Stories

Friday Fictioneers – Alien Turf War

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The homeless people poked the glob with a stick, “never seen anything like this before,” they said. When they left for the soup kitchen, the glob began to grow, doubling in size every half hour. Soon it covered the whole park.
Far above, on Rigel 7, the alien inventor’s watched the progress with their boss. “That glob is our new turf and it will dissolve the humans,” they said, “and soon it will make earth just like our planet and we can move in!”
But the turf didn’t dissolve anything, instead it sprouted grass, and the homeless people packaged the turf up and sold it as lawn fertilizer, making millions of dollars.
On Rigel 7 the turf inventor’s were out of a job. “Stupid humans,” they said, as they made their way to the alien soup kitchen.

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I’ve been away for a few weeks and, well… what a photo to come back to! Not yet back in the writing groove yet, but I’m working on it.

Friday Fictioneers: a story in 100 words prompted by a picture that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every Wednesday. Here’s the link to the other stories posted about this photo.

Friday Fictioneers – War Is Hell

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He wore his fatigues on the plane and thought about how he would have to listen to his mom talk about the price of milk at the grocery store. He would have to listen to his dad talk about golf clubs. He would have to listen to his girlfriend talk about The Bachelor. It was all he had wanted for the whole last year, as he fought, as he killed people, as his brain normalized the sound of gunshots and the constant threat of attack. But when the wing of the plane tipped over his hometown, he felt the squeeze, he had to act normal now, and he didn’t think he could do it. Afghanistan had wiped out normal for him, and the thought of having to float through his society again made him wish he had died with his friends.

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A little long this week, sorry. Friday Fictioneers: normally a story in 100 words prompted by a picture that Rochelle Wisoff-Fields posts every Wednesday. Photo Credit: ©Rochelle Wissoff-Fields