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.

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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. 

Left Behind – 100 words (ish) for the Friday Fictioneers

Photo Prompt ©Jellico’s Stationhouse

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. 

 

‘How will you manage?’ A snowfall of damp tissue fell from Rosie’s fingers, scattering on to the hall carpet. She resisted the urge to reach out her shaking hand and grab his shirt.

His back to her, Geoff ignored her cry, grunting as he lifted the dufflebag strap on to his shoulder.

He had given up answering.

‘Who’ll look after you?’ A sob broke the question. She chewed her lip. Why couldn’t she keep quiet?

Geoff sighed, quickly pulling the door open but as he stepped through, he turned and blew a kiss.

‘I’ll be back next weekend, Mum.’

First Bike – Friday Fictioneers

Photo Prompt ©Jennifer Pendergast

‘That one Mummy.’

When she walked on without an acknowledgement, he planted his bottom on the grass, crossed arms over his chest and stared at the back of her head, challenging her to a stand-off.

‘I want that bike.’

Disguising her smile, Mary turned around and retorted, ‘Want doesn’t get. Maybe if you’re a good boy, Santa will bring one.’

‘Red with black wheels.’

‘We’ll see what he brings. Come on now. Let’s meet Daddy.’

Henry waited in the cafe and winked with a nod at Mary as she lowered into the chair. Her precious boy would get his wish.

 

Time is short this week. Visitors are in residence and I am trying to stick to my resolve to write stories without going to the dark side so forgive this light bit of fluff and any editing errors. I hope that you enjoy it nonetheless.

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 in and let your imagination feed us with your stories. 

 

Moving On – Friday Fictioneers

Photo Prompt © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

He left and darkness fell.

For days she hid, reluctant to share the news. Plates collected in the sink, bags of rubbish gathered by the door. She ignored the red light flashing on the telephone. The candles she burned did not mask the smells of stale food and unwashed body. Her flat became a temple of the lost forever.

One day the pain ebbed a little, and she opened the window for air before returning to her nest on the settee. The twittering song of a visiting finch filled the silence. She opened her eyes, ready for the new day.

 

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 in and let your imagination feed us with your stories. 

Downstream – Friday Fictioneers

Photo Prompt © Ted Strutz

The wagon teetered then tipped its cargo, including the beautiful widow, Mrs. Snow, and her three children into the flow. The youngsters welcomed their dip and laughed as they splashed each other. They were not hampered by long skirts and so were not aware of the danger and their mother did not want to frighten them as she was dragged along the current. Eventually, she sank to the riverbed. Young Jeremiah, one of Mrs. Snow’s suitors, heard the cries for help and he swam to the bubbles, grasped calico and pulled her to the surface. Once his lips touched hers, how could she refuse his proposal?

 

I’m writing from the soft side again this week as the chair looks so lonely that I am afraid my dark side would cause tears and I’m tempted to say that this story is a bit wet but that would cause groans. 

Rochelle at http://www.rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com organises the Friday Fictioneers and she does a wonderful job so thank you to her.

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 in and let your imagination feed us with your stories.