Writing

Waiting on a Storm

/ michaelwynnauthor / 19 Comments

First a prayer. Dear Lord, I beg of you, smite down this new WordPress with the smitiest thing in your armoury and return us to sanity. Thank you in anticipation Lord, Amen.

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

“Give my condiments to the chef,” said the portly man on Table 14.
“I will indeed sir, pass on your compliments,” the waiter replied.
“Not my compliments. Although I have a good store, I keep them reserved for deserving causes. My condiments, which are clearly superior to those he is using.”
The waiter thrust his nose in the air and headed for the kitchen. He returned presently,
“The chef says thank you and offers this gift in return. It’s a lateral flow test. He says there’s no accounting for taste, but lack of it, is a symptom of Covid 19.”

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

How the Eagle Got his Bald Head

/ michaelwynnauthor / 29 Comments

This week I give you one of the missing Just So stories and it’s sort of up to date, so more of a Just Now story really.

PROMPT © Krista Strutz

“Well son, it was like this. The hunters were out and I’d been takin’ heavy flak from all directions for nigh on a week. I had plenty of tricks of my own though. One moment I headed for cloud cover, next I stalled, dived and rolled.  I don’t mind sayin’, I was a match for them.

But those varmint, they kept coming and it only takes one lucky shot.  My own fault really; I ducked late once and the critter blew the feathers clean offa ma head.

An’ that, my son is how the Bald Eagle got his bald head.”

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

That’s Schadenfreude, Herr Oberstleutnant.

/ michaelwynnauthor / 21 Comments
PHOTO PROMPT -Brenda Cox

Horrific yet comic. A series of events that individually were nothing, but together in place and moment, produced the perfect slapstick.

The allied jeep skewed criminally fast round the corner, chasing the Oberstleutnant who, necessarily negligent of road safety, didn’t see the planks over the bomb debris.

The car rammed his bike up the makeshift ramp, launching him, howling, arms spread like the Nazi eagle on his tunic, to smack into the wall of La Mairie.

We cleaned away the blood but left the embedded bike for chuckles.

It’s dark humour but after war, you take relief however it comes.

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

Friend or Foe

/ michaelwynnauthor / 34 Comments

 

 

 

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT© Roger Bultot

Her determination to photograph him was almost flattering. “To remember the event,” she claimed. She had taken pictures of the others.

“Can I see?” He asked. She passed him the camera and he thumbed through the pictures, quietly deleting select images. “Would you like to go somewhere quieter?” He asked.

She led him upstairs enthusiastically. In the bedroom, her lips parted, she leant into him…and onto the blade. She gasped as a tide of scarlet seeped across her dress.

“I’m sorry, perhaps you were for real, but I can’t take chances.” He said, as he laid her on the bed.

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

 

You’ve Got to Have a Dream.

/ michaelwynnauthor / 37 Comments
PHOTO PROMPT © Russell Gayer

Suzie eyed Jordan’s latest crazy notion, a clapped out van, uneasily. ‘Knackered,’ was being complimentary.

“We’re going south to the sun!” He proclaimed triumphantly.

“What’ll we do there?”

“It’s a new start, we’ll have fun.”

“You think this old thing’ll make it?”

“We’ll keep going until it’s done and that’ll be a sign we’ve reached our destiny.”

He turned the key. The engine sputtered some final death throes.

“Behold a sign. Our destiny revealed; we’re staying put!” Suzie exclaimed, “And don’t dare say what that cost us.”

As she walked back inside, she muttered, “Loving you sure is challenging sometimes,”

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

The Devil Came to Cromer

/ michaelwynnauthor / 58 Comments

“You’ll claim on the insurance?”

“No, it’s an act of God.”

“Bit of a wimpy act for God. Hardly pestilence or deluge. What was he thinking?”

“Probably absentmindedly scratching an itch. I’m sure he wouldn’t intentionally knock a small tree over onto a café in little old Cromer.”

“Used to be we blamed the devil for the bad stuff.”

“Yeah, when did God go rogue?”

“Perhaps you could convince the insurance company it was Satan. After all, who’d believe his word against God’s?”

George and Geoff considered the question over a slurp on their lattes.

“The insurance company,” they concluded in unison.

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

Rather You Than Me

/ michaelwynnauthor / 59 Comments

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

/ michaelwynnauthor / 55 Comments
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

/ michaelwynnauthor / 36 Comments

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

/ michaelwynnauthor / 23 Comments
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.