Infinity – A story for Friday Fictioneers

Photo Prompt © CEAyr

On her 18th, he gave her the bracelet and a gold heart, the charm representing new love.

At 21, she unwrapped a miniature champagne bottle to add to the collection in addition to a diamond for her finger.

They married and a baby soon joined their family.

The bracelet filled, and by the time they celebrated their 25th anniversary, the jeweller struggled to find space for the infinity charm. He soldered it between mini wedding rings and a tiny cradle but loops of infinity hooked other treasures, making it difficult to wear.

Infinity didn’t last. Nor did their marriage.

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by the wonderful Rochelle at https://rochellewisoff.com.  Every week, flash fiction lovers write 100 words (more or less) of short fiction, poetry, prose, etc in response to a photo prompt. We share our ideas and comment on others’ work through the link on Rochelle’s website.

Break Time

Thank you to Rochelle at http://www.rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com. She organises photo prompts and links for the Friday Fictioneers. This week’s photo was contributed by Susan Eames.

Participants write a piece of 100 word fiction, prose or poetry based on a photo prompt and exchange comments on each other’s work.  If you are a writer of short fiction, join in and let your imagination feed others with your stories. 

Photo copyright Susan Eames

Sitting in a car for hours is bad for older travellers and so, the couple take a break in a little known Spanish town. Siesta means it is deserted and they have no trouble parking in a plaza near the centre. Strolling along the empty streets, they admire the ornamental facades of the stone buildings.

Suddenly, the woman yelps and falls to the ground. Construction workers run out of a bar across the road, gabbling in their foreign tongue as they try to pull her to her feet. Even though the pain makes her eyes water, she waves them away.

‘De nada’ is one phrase she knows but from the crack she heard in her ankle, it’s going to be a big problem.

Friday Fictioneers – Underground

Thank you to Rochelle at http://www.rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com. She organises photo prompts and links for the Friday Fictioneers. This week’s photo was contributed by Sarah Potter.

Participants write a piece of 100 word fiction, prose or poetry based on a photo prompt and exchange comments on each other’s work.  If you are a writer of short fiction, join in and let your imagination feed others with your stories. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter

Years ago, they visited this place. It must have been their first date. Or, maybe their second.

Bill’s hand tight on hers, he led her along the path, brushing past the roses, as he searched for privacy: somewhere to explore her body. She teased with promise and he fell under her spell.

He found the perfect flower for her, and she kissed his cheek and then, his lips, but a thorn found her finger. Her temper flared.

That incident foreshadowed the course of their marriage, moments of bliss but always tainted.

Until he snapped.

Beneath the rose bush, she lies where thorns don’t reach.

A Story for Friday Fictioneers November 12th – ONCE

Thank you to Rochelle at http://www.rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com. She organises photo prompts and links for the Friday Fictioneers. This week’s photo was contributed by Dale Rogerson.

Participants write a piece of 100 word fiction, prose or poetry based on a photo prompt and exchange comments on each other’s work.  If you are a writer of short fiction, join in and let your imagination feed others with your stories. 

Once upon a time, I frolicked in snow and danced on ice skates.

Once I was agile and my body melted his heart.

Once I took chances and didn’t care about the consequences.

Once was all it took for her to extract revenge. A saw through a blade can do a lot of damage.

Now I sit at the window and watch as others play their dangerous games.

Family Life

This week, I wrote this in response to an exercise to write something about the clocks going back or forward. Just a bit of fun for these challenging days.

 

Mum                     Don’t frget to put tour clocks bick.

Sally                       Will do. For God’s sake, turn on predictive text Mother.

Mum                     How di I di ths>

Sally                       Don’t you remember. I wrote it down in your book.

Mum                     Whst?

Sally                       Your notebook. It’s by your calendar in the kitchen.

Mum                     Is it/

Sally                       Go there and look. Don’t hang up!!!!

Mum                     I@m here.

Sally                       Mother. Where have you gone? Answer the bloody phone.

Mum                     Hi. Beck agin.

Sally                       Why don’t you answer when it rings?

Mum                     Wat

Sally                       Your phone. Answer it when it rings.

Mum                     How de I de tht

Sally                       Remember, I showed you the last time I came over. Press the button with the green telephone.

Mum                     Wher are yu

Sally                       I explained Mum. There’s a problem with a virus. I don’t want you to catch anything.

Mum                     I dnt car. I wnt to di anyway

Sally                       Don’t be ridiculous. What would I do without you to remind me to put the clocks back.

Mum                     Lov yu

Sally                       You too, Mum. I’ll call you in a minute. Remember press the green telephone.

Mum                     Ar u thre.

Mermaid

This is a short story I am working on. It is not finished but please feel free to comment.

 

In the middle of the ocean, the stars shine bright and the blue water takes on shades of purple, red and black. The hull slaps on the slopes of watery hills formed by the waves. At 38, Alice is the youngest of three crew, and the least experienced, nonetheless she takes responsibility for the yacht on her shifts of the rota. Each night, when the sun disappears behind the horizon, she stills the quivers in her stomach before reminding herself of the alternative. Her colleagues will be at their desks making relentless phone calls in the hope of hooking a deal. Survival and safety are her targets now.

Orion’s belt glows above and she uses it as the base from which to practise her knowledge, working to all sides and reciting the names of the constellations and planets in a whisper; she does not want to disturb the others. Fred is stretched out in the main cabin, on call he says but unlikely to wake unless thunder shakes the ship. Now that the night is set, the peace calms her fears, the wind strokes her face and its air fills her lungs.

It has been 10 days since they last encountered another ship – a tanker crept up behind, nearly running them over before gliding by to fade into the mist – and they were too far from land for wildlife. A seagull had hitched a lift but fled on day 3 and the dolphins had played for a few days but she had not seen a pod this week.

A sail flaps and Alice leaps to tighten the sheet. The wind is changing. She shivers and reaches for her fleece as she scans the skies. The stars have vanished. Should she wake Fred? Shorten the sail? Close the hatches? Or should she observe a little longer?

DIGGING FOR RICHES

October Flash Card Entry for Little MS

This is a flash entry of 100 words or less with a photo prompt of a man burying his head in the ground of a barren landscape.

DIGGING FOR RICHES

‘Forget it.’

Geoff ignores me.

‘I’m leaving in 30 seconds.’

He doesn’t reply.

Leaning against the car, I juggle the keys in one hand and stare at his backside. My foot moves but stops midway. Twenty years I have put up with his penny pinching. The air is cooling as the sun descends; soon it will drop behind the horizon and the night creatures will surface.

‘It’s fake, Geoff. A M&S special, you fool,’ I yell. The wheels scream, kicking up a cloud of dust as I embark on a path less travelled.

The Last Hike – a story for the Friday Fictioneers

 

The amazing Rochelle at http://www.rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com organises photo prompts and links for the Friday Fictioneers. Authors write a piece of 100 word fiction, prose or poetry based on a photo prompt and exchange comments on each other’s work.  If you are a writer of short fiction, join our group and let your imagination feed us with your stories. 

Hi fellow writers. I’m back! After weeks of chaos, I finally have time to return to my writing. Sorry if this is too sad for you but this story would not stay silent in my head. Hopefully, my sense of humour will return with the next one.

 

Photo Prompt © Danny Boweman

Even his hand had shrunk, wasted over the months.

Once upon a time, his fingers wrapped around mine, protecting me so that I thought no one could hurt me. What did I know? Poison was taking him from me; rogue cells which searched until they found harbour in his organs.

Fight poison with poison, they told us. We hoped for a while and then, that optimism also wasted away.

The mountain has been too steep and soon, my darling will be a memory and I will be left floundering in a wasteland, tumbling like a weed through the lonely years.

The Twist – 100 words for the Friday Fictioneers

Photo Prompt © magaly guerrero

Lindy in Trouble

 

Every week the hard-working Rochelle at http://www.rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com organises photo prompts and links for the Friday Fictioneers. Authors write a piece of 100 word fiction, prose or poetry based on a photo prompt and exchange comments on each other’s work.  If you are a writer of short fiction, join the group and let your imagination feed us with your stories. 

I can not let this opportunity pass by without poking fun at my current status. My leg disappeared down a drain and I wasn’t wearing heels this time. Previously, they have been a contributing factor in other injuries.

One minute she was at my side, the next she was sprawled on the cobbled pavement.

‘For heaven’s sake Mother!’

‘Sorry.’

‘Get up.’ Passing people glared. They’d understand if she was their responsibility.

‘I can’t.’

I was tempted to walk away, but then sighed as I extended my hand.

‘I told you. But no, you had to wear those bloody shoes.’

‘Sorry.’ Her eyes filled.

I lowered on to one knee and patted her shoulder. ‘Never mind. Let’s dust you off and inspect the damage.’

She did that thing with her mouth and I knew we were heading to another hospital. Again.

 

 

 

Who? – 100 words for the Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt ©Dale Rogerson

The snoring wakes her. An overdose of beer is not all that upsets her stomach.

Who is in her bed?

Jenny tries to open her eyes; last night’s mascara clogs her lashes like glue. She’s never forgotten to remove her make-up.

A bear growls and lops his arm across her chest, his hair tickling her naked breasts. The room smells of burnt cheese and stale breath, and unwanted memories surface. A bar. A man replacing empty glasses with more beer. Someone to fill the void left by Greg.

There’s money on her bedside table. How much further will she fall?

A shout out to the amazing Rochelle at http://www.rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com. She organises the photo prompts and links for the Friday Fictioneers. Authors write a piece of 100 word fiction, prose or poetry based on a photo prompt and exchange comments on each other’s work.  If you are a writer of short fiction, join the group and let your imagination feed us with your stories.