Prompt is the above photo, Word count:100
I confess that I am a bit of a mischief maker. When I was younger, it was penny fireworks in letterboxes or painting the principal’s car tyres pink. Nothing malicious mind you. Just good old- fashioned pranks. Everyone laughed and shook their heads. “What will you amount to Billy Saunders”.
Of Course, when I got married, I needed to be responskible (on purpose for that’s how I spoke), but since retiring, widowed, the children gone, I can be mischievous again. So, its crop circles in the Summer and Snow circles in the winter. HEHE. Nobody will ever know it’s me.
Word Count 93.
I wrote a poem for this prompt. I hope it is acceptable. Thanks to Sandra Crook for the photo prompt.
The rugged tower of rock
stood reaching for the sky
it was made to remember heroes
Men, much braver than you or I.
Blindly they ran, walked or rode
into battle with the enemy unseen,
men also brave, onward they strode
whose intent was just as keen.
They clashed on the beaches,
and the rocky hills above
They fired guns in anger
for a country they so loved.
Among them was no victor
no winner could be seen
just rivers of blood which flowed
over hills that once were green.
Lest We Forget.
A short 100 word fiction story for Friday Fictioneers.
I closed my eyes. Could this driver be any more dangerous? He was not at all concerned that we nearly wiped out that rickshaw or knocked some exotic fruits from a market stall.
“I get you there double-quick time, no worries” he said with his smiling voice.
“You Aussies so you know Brett Lee, yes?”
“Yes”, I nodded, as it happened I did.
“I take you to the hotel, but first, a quick game of cricket” I opened my eyes to the sound of excited young voices. Held high was a bat and ball and smiles adorned all the faces.
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
Word Count: 100
Genre: General fiction
When the synagogue moved to a bigger place, the First Methodist Church moved in. They ran a soup kitchen for the poor, took care of drug affected youth, and welcomed all. No one was ever turned away. The choir sang so loud, you could hear them streets away. But now the choir is made up of pigeons which roost in the rafters, and bats which hang from them. The cacophony is completed by rats and the cats that chase them. No human has set foot in the church since the scandal. But we wont talk about that now, will we.
Thanks to https://rochellewisoff.com/author/rochellewisoff/ -Fields-Addicted to Purple for the prompt.
I had arrived at the airport in plenty of time and was amazed at the inactivity. In fact, nobody was there. It was deserted.
The doors opened automatically. I used the automated boarding pass machine, went through the empty security checkpoint and looked out on the window to the tarmac.
It also was deserted. I heard a vacuum cleaner in the empty terminal and walked toward the sound. A man was vacuuming the lounge at gate 16. He was as surprised to see me as I was him. Then he pointed the suction toward me, and I was gone.
Word Count 99
Funny, I didn’t know where the story was going until I had written it. I hope you enjoy.
Written for Friday Fictioneers, 100 word fiction.
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
I don’t know why I continue to fish here. Unless I do a really good cast, my hook will scrape across the submerged rocks, and get caught, I will try to whip the line to get it free. Not often successful.
Today after I cast, I feel some weight, but dead weight, some seaweed, not a fish. I wind in the line. The hook doesn’t catch on the rock. A glint reflects in the water as I reel the last bit of line in. It’s a gold watch, still in place on what remains of a man’s arm.
“Whatcha doin dad?”
“Putting up more barbed wire, 5 sheep went missing last night. I don’t know whats happening but this should do the trick”.
“Can I help ya?”
Sure, get your gloves on, then hop up here and hold the wire while I tie it off.
Father and son worked together all afternoon until the barbed wire went right across the top of the fenceline.
After getting drinks from the Missus, Bob needed to go pee.
“I think I have to find a new way of going to sleep mum, counting sheep is gonna get me into trouble”.
Word Count 99 words.
photo by J. Hardy Carroll
There were stories of ghosts in the old brewery. And they are true. Men who used to work there, who had fallen into the hops, suicides and murders. There was painting inside, done with blood it looked. Of stars like you see in horror movies, with candles. Some nights you can see lights inside. They dared me. I didn’t want to go in.
“You’ll be alright,” they said. “You can join our gang if you do.”
They hid behind the naked trees.
They never came to help when they heard me screaming.
Now it’s me they tell stories about.
Genre: Horror. Word Count 99
“Why did the artist choose to put the hourglass on an angle?”
“To show that time can move slowly when the axis is tilted, when things are a bit… lopsided” Barnabas answered.
When Shanaz looked at the glass she saw something different. She saw a world quite unlike the one with which she was a part. It was a world of time past. She saw people and strange creatures that walked on all fours, swam in the dirty water or flew in the smoke filled air. All the creatures gone now, extinct.
She shook her head and thought of how stupid people were back then. The class had gone ahead. Shanaz hurried to catch up.
This picture is accompanying Brave New World, by Jeff Wayne, on the War of the Worlds album
115 words, sorry ——————————————————-
I had written so much more and had to cut a lot out. I would like to develop this into a longer story where in the top half of the glass, she saw the world past, and the bottom half the future, where time was rushing to, like the sand to the bottom of the glass. Thanks for the wonderful photo prompt Sandra Crook.
The harpsichord stood against the wall next to his old music-box. It is just as grandpa left it, ready to play his favorite music.
The instrument would stand quiet now, with his passing. I was caught in a daydream of reminiscing, as people in black suits and sensible dresses murmured over tea and fruitcake.
Out of the noisy throng of children playing outside, a little boy wandered in. He climbed onto the stool and began to play. We all watched in awe as this small child brought the keys to life. The music would not be silenced.
This is the first time I have had an opportunity to participate this year. Looking forward to doing more.