Rather You Than Me

PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young

“Mum’s gonna go nuts! What you gonna say?”

“Someone stole the car.”

“Yeah, as though she’ll believe that after the police report. When you said you’d help me learn to drive, I didn’t expect doughnuts and handbrake turns.”

“If you can master the extreme manoeuvres, the rest’s a cinch.”

“She’s gonna kill you.”

“I know. How about we say you were driving?”

“No way am I carrying the can for this. I’d be grounded for a month minimum.”

“What about me? You’re her favourite; she’ll be lenient with you.”

“Sorry, you’ll just have to buy some flowers and face her, Dad.”

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

Unlucky Dip

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

The market, crammed with a thousand stalls, narrow aisles and crushing crowds, was a pickpocket’s paradise. Following complaints, the police were maintaining a hefty presence.

To avoid them, Clovis changed direction, simultaneously registering the barely perceptible glance of his wallet departing.

He considered a curly headed youth fleeing purposefully through the milling shoppers and when he judged the culprit was far enough away, pressed a button in his pocket.

The panicked shriek and frantic jig of the thief slapping at his spontaneously combusting coat, brought a chuckle.

“Always pleased to help,” he muttered, moving another wallet to his back pocket.

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

Mr.Undauntable

It’s a while since I’e contributed here and struggling through this new WordPress process, I began to wish I hadn’t bothered. But I persevered and here it is, brought to you after much cursing, my story for Dale’s picture.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

“Gloria, stop crying, you’re adding to the flood.”

She snarled rather than offer the smile he sought.

“One day we’ll look back on this…”

“And laugh? Is that it?”

“I was going to say…with dry feet.”

“Is everything a joke to you?”

“If your feet are dry when everyone’s about you are sodden, you’re wearing wellingtons.”

“Ok, stop now!”

“If you can survive when the water is over your head and all about you are drowning, you’re a fish, my son.”

“That’s enough, what are we going to do?”

“Let the water subside, dry the place out and go again.”

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

Suspicious Mind

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

“There ya go Mum, flowers.”

Simon’s mother barely grunted acceptance. She used to love him bringing her flowers once a week. She’d thrust her nose in and inhale the bouquet until she was giddy.

“Such a considerate son,” she’d boast to her friends at the WI.

Now it was as if he was bringing her mustard gas instead of perfume.  Where they’d take pride of place in her favourite vase in the front window, now she relegated them to the kitchen sill and threw them out at the first petal drop.

She’d changed since he started his job at the crematorium.

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

Some of my Best Work is Done on the Toilet

I’ll be honest, sometimes I’m a little scared to post, I don’t wish to upset anyone or bring about compaints, but then I think, hell, it wasn’t me who put the picture up in the first place.

PHOTO PROMPT © Trish Nankivell

Inspiration tormented Brian; it ambushed him at inopportune moments. This time he mustered resistance.

Pulling a pencil from behind his ear like an old newspaper editor, he tugged the toilet paper towards him.  

The ideas flowed perfectly formed, faster than he could write. Careful not to tear the tissue, he scrawled a la Jack Kerouac, until a loss of tension signalled the roll’s end.

He combed the toilet before shouting, “Clare, where’s the loo roll?”

“That’s it until the Tesco delivery, haven’t you enough?”

“I’ll never reproduce it so perfectly,” Brian groaned, as he sacrificed the cerebral to the faecal.

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

The Elephant in the Room

©Susan Eames

The doctors were amazed at the damage caused to her foot by simply dropping the iron on it, but Sadie still didn’t mention the elephant in the room. Bemused, they’d tested her synapses and brain functions extensively, as this was the third time Sadie had dropped the iron in three months.

She didn’t like lying, especially to authority, but she didn’t want them taking Ella away. Ella was clumsy but it wasn’t her fault, she was still young and a living room in a terraced house can be an extremely small space if you have big feet you’re still growing into.

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

Some Cannot Be Satisfied

I must confess, I struggled today but here goes:

PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter

In a burst of frenetic inertia, Spellow flopped down on the sofa and lazily flicked through the Netflix menu. “No, no, seen it, seen it and crap, no, no, perhaps, if I can’t find better, no, not again, no…” and then the strength in his finger absconded, his eyelids developed the weight of dumbbells and he was asleep.

When he awoke, the shadows outside had lengthened, but the sun still hurled fury.

“This heat,” he complained as he peeled off a sticky T-shirt. “I’m not built for this infernal post. Why did the firm have to give Dale the Canada job?”

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

Expropriation and Hopelessness

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Charlotte clamped a fist round her locket and contemplated the Christmas lights for the last time. Since the advent of the new order, everyone wore lockets. When uncertain of seeing your loved ones again, photographs are everything.

On turning sixteen in September, the law demanded Emma report to the ‘Citizen Development and Assignment Programme.’ She’d instead joined her brother in hiding.

Charlotte wept for the memories, the lifetime investment in their little house now scheduled for reallocation. They were obliged to move to government, ‘Third Stage Life’ apartments.

Her husband had planned their flight, but she knew, they were too old for resistance.

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

I Know What I Like!

copyright – Dale Rogerson

Grandma helped herself to another slice, “What’s this? Don’t mind if I do have another.”

She winked conspiratorially at little Suzie, who giggled.

“Garlic bread, Mum,” said Arlene.

“No, what’s it really?”

“Garlic bread, like I said.”

“But I don’t like garlic.”

“I can assure you it’s garlic.”

“Not real garlic though. Not like they have in France and places.”

“It’s real garlic like they have abroad, mother.”

Suzie giggled again, ‘grandparents are funny,’ she thought.

“It can’t be. I know what I like and I know I don’t like garlic, never have done.”

“OK mother…Another slice?”

“Go on then.”

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.

Rockpool Memories

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Seb set his brush down and scanned the faultless sky. “Enough blue to make a dress,* as you used to say mother,” he chuckled. His literal child logic at the time, always thought it would be an extremely large dress or there would be a ton of left over material.

He picked up his brush again and on the shore, he painted a beautiful lady sitting on a towel watching a little boy, net and bucket in hand, clambering in and out of the rock pools.

Seb sighed, “There you go Mum, we’ll call this one, ‘Enough blue to make a dress.’”

*I believe the correct version of this expression is, ‘enough blue to patch a Dutchman’s breeches.’ I grew up with Mum’s versions of all the colloquial sayings.

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.