Friday Fictioneers

30 11 2012

It’s Friday already, so time for another hastily bashed out 100 words of fiction literary masterpiece based on the photo prompt below. Bit of a rush this week, older son’s birthday today and our anniversary as well, so might not get round to much reviewing and commenting, but I’ll do my best.

Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

A Custom Order

Even at forty-something, buying women’s stockings can be excruciatingly embarrassing and technically challenging. 15 Dernier. What’s that converted to dollars?

I was stood there trying to pick the right colour, when the young saleslady appeared.

“Looking for something special?”

“Not really, but I only need one.”

“How about these?” she asked, showing me a black pair.

“Perfect, but I only need one.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said eyes widening as she placed a sympathetic hand on mine.

Outside, I removed a stocking from the white carrier bag, pulled it on over my head, and walked into the bank next door.







Friday Fictioneers

23 11 2012

Didn’t make it last week due to work commitments, but back this week and looking forward to seeing what this week’s prompt has inspired. Comments welcome, I’m here to learn.

Copyright Joyce Johnson

Which Way Now?

I charged through the white-walled maze, every breath burning with the effort.

I slid to a halt at the next junction. A small metal face on the wall snapped into life. “Follow the pointing hand. Everybody else went that way. Follow the others!”

That’s what we’re supposed to do, isn’t it? Follow in the footsteps. But what if we want to make our own path? The finger pointed right, I ran left. At the next junction it pointed left, I ran right.

“Stop! Stop!” the faces yelled. “You can’t go against convention!”

But I could. I can. And I will.







Friday Fictioneers

9 11 2012

It’s Friday, it’s Friday Fictioneers. 100 words based on a photo prompt. Go!

Comments welcome, I’m here to learn.

Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Winter is Coming

An unnatural cold is working its way into the house. Fingers of frigid air probing the gaps and cracks in the walls, squeezing under ill-fitting doors and up between floorboards. Waves of cold pour into the room through ice-encrusted windows. The roof groans and settles under the weight of accumulated snow. Outside, sounds like gunshots echo through the forest as freezing trees violently explode in the approaching ice storm.

We may not be the last. I hope with all my heart that there are survivors. Someone to rebuild.

Winter is here.







Friday Fictioneers

2 11 2012

Hello again. It’s Friday and time for another 100 word piece of flash fiction based on a photo prompt. Ably organised by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Have a go, it’s fun. Just write something on your own blog, click on the blue froggy thing down below, and then click on the bit at the bottom of that to add the URL of your post. Simples!

Comments welcome, I’m here to learn.

Copyright Ted Strutz

Teenage Kicks

I watched the Goths pouring into the night market: a black cloud descending hungrily onto the brightly lit stalls. They strutted around in their black clothes and their crushed velvets, blood red lips shining out like beacons from alabaster skin. Freaky vampire wannabes. They tried on the latest cool sunglasses and laughed too loudly at the flying bat toys. Just a bunch of anxious teenagers banding together in mutual insecurity.

I work on the camera stall, so took some snaps of the group. I can see the shoppers in the pictures, but the Goths . . . don’t appear.