Friday Fictioneers

Waiting in the Shadows for the Sun

/ michaelwynnauthor / 59 Comments

lucy-sol

 

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PTOMPT © Lucy Fridkin

Carlota watched the cruise ship slide serenely into the bay; the early evening sun sparkling off chrome rails and placid water.
It fascinated her that the opulent chose her island to visit on their luxurious holidays.
Mesmerised by the affluence, dreaming of escaping her sickly, dependent parents and their stone hovel, she craved the obscenity of wealth.
One day it would be her sipping cocktails on a deck lounger, her bathed in Chanel.
In the meantime, amongst those spoilt travellers would be hungry clients, seeking satisfaction.
Applying scarlet lipstick, straightening her dress, she moved to wait in her usual place.

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

 

 

The Perils of Garden Camping

/ michaelwynnauthor / 44 Comments

campsite-jwf

 

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields

In the blaring kitchen light, three boys looked up at Alison.
“Aren’t you sleeping in the tent?”
“We were,” complained Charlie, “until Joe got scared of bogey men.”
“I didn’t,” snivelled Joe.
“Daniel shouldn’t have told those tales,” Charlie continued.
Daniel retaliated indignantly, “It was you said how one tore Steve’s tent and stole his brownies.”
“It’s not the bogey man,” yelled Joe. “It’s the animals.”
“What animals?” the other two chorused.
“The ones you keep away by lighting fires. Lions and hyenas.”
“That’s in Africa, silly!” Fumed the elder boys.
“Never mind,” Alison soothed, “We’ll try again next summer.”

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

 

The Doors of Infatuation

/ michaelwynnauthor / 44 Comments

ceayr-purple-door

 

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © CEayr

“It’s a shabby outhouse, why would they padlock it?”
“We’ll know when we get it open. Can you pick it?”
“If I did, would it open the door to your heart too?”
She smouldered, probably with irritation but he preferred to interpret it as desire.
“They’re hiding something.”
“Like you’re hiding your passion for me?”
She scowled at him. “Just open the door, the only prize you’ll get is what might be on the inside.”
Undefeated he said, “Hope it’s love then.”
As the door creaked open, three decaying corpses fell forwards.
Alison vomited.
“She even pukes beautifully,” he thought.

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

 

Our Tune

/ michaelwynnauthor / 43 Comments

bjc3b6rn-14

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg

Alison slid the record from its sleeve and rubbed it carefully on her sleeve. Balancing it between thumb and middle finger, she delicately placed it on the turntable.
She moved the arm across; there was a crunch as the stylus hit the opening groove.
The room filled for several revolutions with regular clicks and crackles until the opening bars of Elgar’s cello concerto stole in.
Her hand shot out, wrenching the arm back. There was an excruciating screech as the stylus skidded across the vinyl.
Through her tears, she smiled apologetically at the photograph on the mantelshelf.
“Sorry. Maybe one day.”

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

Hiding Beneath a Beacon

/ michaelwynnauthor / 43 Comments

I spent a little time in Prague and Budapest last week, hearing some horrific and at times heroic and ingenious stories about those who resisted the occupations of both the Nazis and Communists. This is a small homage to those brave people.

crook-roof

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Clouds shrouded roofs like a tarpaulin spread over a gazebo. Pavel appreciated the claustrophobic weather covering his way.
He rapped out a coded knock, bursting through the door as it cracked open.
“That roof? Bit conspicuous don’t you think?” He cried, waiving polite greetings. “It draws attention. Why not put up a sign, ‘Resistance living here?’”
“Indeed, it’s brought some visits from nasty men in grey suits. They’re concerned with building regulations. The nastier black suits ignore us; they see the state colours and some zealous patriots. It’s a level above hiding in plain sight; it’s hiding beneath a beacon.”

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

 

 

 

 

 

Trading Skins

/ michaelwynnauthor / 34 Comments

Route 66 is such an American icon I had to do this one in an American voice. All I know of that is what I’ve heard in films and cowboy serials. I hope it comes across OK and that y’all be kind to me.

jean-l-hays

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

“This a trading post?”
“Says so on the sign, don’ it?”
“Got some racoon skins.”
“Hell, everyone’s got raccoon skins. Can’t do ya much on them.”
“I need t’eat. I put a whole heap o’work into catchin’ ‘em.”
The trader ignored the trapper’s desperate eyes. “Anything else?”
“Mebbe beaver.”
“They’re good. How many ya got?”
The trapper grinned excitedly. “Two dozen. What’ll ya give?”
“The angry end o’ this Winchester, my friend.”

Throwing a layer of dirt into the pit, the trader chuckled down at the body.
“Two dozen beaver, a horse, a half-decent saddle. A satisfactory day’s trading, indeed.”

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

Discovery in the Dark

/ michaelwynnauthor / 51 Comments

In this season of Halloween, I thought a little horror story suitable

peter-abbey11

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Peter Abbey

Billy turned onto the footbridge. Tapping his cane against the walls, he kept up a stream of encouragement to the dog. “Good girl, Maddie”
Suddenly, she stopped and growled.
“What is it, girl? A Fox?”
Maddie couldn’t abide foxes; even the smell rankled her enough that she’d lose concentration.
“What’s there Maddie?” Billy lent forward, feeling with his cane. It touched something.
He poked at the object. It yielded.
“Oh no, what have we found?” Crouching, he felt his way until his tentative fingers hit their target and he recognised it as a foot; a cold, clammy, small human foot.

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

Tales from the Trestle Table

/ michaelwynnauthor / 47 Comments

claire-fuller-8

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Claire Fuller

David picked a hoop of nobbled bone from the shelf. “What’s this Granddad?”
“My first time at sea we caught a ferocious, white whale. Each kept a vertebra as a memento.”
David fingered a painted stone, “And this?” The grandfather’s eyes gleamed.
“That’s from Ringo for helping with the drumming on Blackbird.”
“There are drums on Blackbird?”
“Very subtle ones. That’s what Ringo struggled with.”
David pointed to some head-shaped ornaments.
“Shrunken heads we escaped with from cannibals in darkest Erewhon.”
David was wide-eyed, “How fantastic, Granddad.”
His mother smiled, “Yes, he returns a different hero after every car-boot sale.”

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

Kitchen Sink Drama

/ michaelwynnauthor / 30 Comments

lamps

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Today’s offering is a little bit of fun I have tried to write in a northern English accent. I hope it works.

“Sit down. We’ll put t’ kettle on; ‘ave a nice cuppa.”
Doris snivelled into a soaked tissue. “T’were awful.”
“Poor thing. ‘Ave a biscuit; keep yer blood sugar levels up. Can you tell me owt about it?”
“He was in t’ chair as normal, when he stands as though he’s going down pub.”
She trembled and sobbed. “Instead, he strides into kitchen as though he knew it were there all t’ time.”
“He hasn’t done that before?”
“Norrin twenty-five years of marriage.”
Lucy held her hand supportively.
“Then what ‘appened?”
“He…he… DID T’ WASHING UP!” Doris wailed, “WHAT’S ‘APPENING, LUCY?”

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

Give my regards to Davey Jones, mate.

/ michaelwynnauthor / 27 Comments

reflections-ceayr

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

Toby gloated over the estate and raised a glass, “Here’s to you mate. Never knew you’d made me your heir. I suppose being an only child, having the money, the girls, but never marrying, it makes sense you’d leave it to your poor old playmate from the village.
The times you fell in that lake. You were a good swimmer in those still waters but the ocean’s another proposition.
I didn’t know until a week ago, that is. Just before you went overboard for the last time.
Funny, you didn’t know it was me rocking the boat back then, either.”

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