Archive for November, 2012

Every week, writers around the world participate in a group that has come to be known as “The Friday Fictioneers.”  Every Wednesday Rochelle Wissof-Fields posts a different photo to inspire our creative juices. You can write and submit your own, 100 word story or simply read the admissions. Writers give, and receive constructive criticism to better their craft.  Click HERE to read, comment or submit.

Warm tears mingled with frigid air as  she strolled beneath the holiday lights, grieving the death of a relationship. Vince had been kind, understanding and caring, often knowing what she needed before she did. But lately, he had been secretive, whispering into the phone, or disappearing with no explanation. It had to be another woman?

When someone jumped from a doorway, she screamed as the shadow shoved a box toward her face.

“I love you May, Marry me.”

The sparkling diamond explained the hang up calls from a number she had traced to a local jeweler named Becky.

“YES!” she shouted, falling to her knees.

The first snow of winter had fallen, transforming the landscape into a blank canvas that reflected light in exciting new ways. Her fingers, once desperate to meet her editors deadline, lazed on the keyboard as she gazed out the window.  The glistening blanket absorbed the sound as random lights danced over the hedge. It was a comforting rhythm she was unable to ignore.

Forcing herself to her feet, she stoked the wood burner and grabbed a drink before returning to her chair. Tucking her feet under her thighs, she snuggled into her blanket and stared at the blinking cursor. Suddenly, working seemed wrong. A sense of peace washed over her soul as she turned off the computer and opened a book. Wake up calls came in many forms and if you were smart enough to recognize them, you were a lucky person.

A photo prompt is provided and all are invited to write a 250 word or less story in their own style. You can read the entries or submit your own by clicking  HERE or on the graphic below. The photograph will be reblogged under Ermisenda on tumblr and added to the Picture it & Write gallery on Facebook and Pinterest

He was leaning over the railing when the silence came, so absolute he feared he had fallen deaf. In the blink of an eye he was fourteen again, looking down at the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He was watching tourists when she appeared, leaving him breathless as she spread a towel on the weathered boards. Changing position, she stopped, returning his gaze.  Horrified at being caught, he sprinted off, but was powerless to stay away.

On his fifth visit he found the dock empty. Swallowing his disappointment he walked away, jumping when someone touched his shoulder. She dispelled his fear, understood him, supported him and prodded him to greatness. They spent the next three summers together.

That changed the summer he turned seventeen. When his father scored a new job on the west coast he hustled them out-of-town before he could say goodbye. When they crossed the bridge he leaned out the window, catching sight of  her blond hair against the weathered boards. Tears rolled down his cheek as reality returned, leaving him a visiting, forty-seven year old man with graying hair. Wiping his eyes he turned to find the parking lot, stopping when a familiar hand touched his shoulder.

Friday Fictioneers – 11/23/12

Posted: November 22, 2012 in Uncategorized

Every week, writers around the world participate in a group that has come to be known as “The Friday Fictioneers.”  Every Wednesday Rochelle Wissof-Fields posts a different photo to inspire our creative juices. You can write and submit your own, 100 word story or simply read the admissions. Writers give, and receive constructive criticism to better their craft.  Click HERE to read, comment or submit.

Copyright-Joyce Johnson

“I must be drunk,” he chuckled as the hand moved.

“Hey Min, is that hand moving?

Handing him a beer, she joined him on the couch.

“Do you believe in fate?”

“Sure.”

“The hand points to your fate, it belonged to the man in the death mask.”

“Yeah, right.” he joked.

“Follow it and discover your fate,” she cooed.

Noticing it pointed toward her bedroom, he rose, anticipating a night of fun. Opening the door, he screamed as icy fingers grasped his limbs, pulling him into a nest he built with his greed, hedonism, cruelty and addiction. The mask smiled.



Friday Fictioneers

A photo prompt is provided and all are invited to write a 250 word or less story in their own style. You can read the entries or submit your own by clicking  HERE or on the graphic below. The photograph will be reblogged under Ermisenda on tumblr and added to the Picture it & Write gallery on Facebook and Pinterest.

This thing called show business had literally saved her life. Lost and alone in unfamiliar surroundings she struggled to stay in the shadows until she found a way to survive. What was normal at home seemed odd, freakish and uncomfortable here. She knew she had to find a way to fit in, or perish. The idea seemed ludicrous at first, but once the seed was planted she let it grow, searching for the perfect puppet as she studied the likes, and dislikes of the locals. Once her act was honed she hit the pavement, doing audition after audition until she found a job.

Determined to pave the way for her people, she worked day and night until she felt confident enough to send for the others. When a clang of cymbals signaled the end of her show, she shuffled off stage, careful to remain limp. If the earthlings realized it was she manipulating the human host, her mission would be over before it could begin.

Click on Graphic to read, or submit your own story or poem.

A photo prompt is provided and all are invited to write a 250 word or less story in their own style. You can read the entries or enter your own by clicking  HERE or on the graphic below.

Freezing rain assaulted her windshield, keeping her wipers busy as she waited at the light. Gazing at the historic store fronts lining the boulevard she felt her brow wrinkle when she noticed the poster. It showed a man clutching his bandaged head. What the hell was that supposed to advertise? Glancing at the light, she growled at the red glow before returning to the disturbing poster. When the light finally turned she shot through the intersection, hoping to reach the construction company where her husband worked in time for lunch. If she didn’t deliver his hot lunch on time he would be angry, and that never ended well for her. Making a sharp right, she passed a slow bus and veered back into the curb lane, screaming as the back end of the car slid to the left, thanks to a blown tire. Limping off the road she pulled into a small parking lot outside a veterinary clinic.

Staring into the empty trunk, she began to cry as the frigid precipitation slid down her face. NO SPARE! Perfect, he would find a way to blame her for this too. Running around the car she grabbed her purse before dashing into the safety of the clinic. Finding the lobby empty she waited at the counter, but not a single soul came to her rescue. Spotting a phone she thought about using it to let her husband know what happened, but he wouldn’t spring into action to save her, he would berate her for letting him down, then make her pay when he got home. Making her way down the hall to look for help she stopped when she heard voices. Peering into the room she saw a woman bent over a dog, stroking its face as another woman inserted a hypodermic needle into the dog. The woman cradle the creature’s head, stroking it’s fur as she assured him all would be well.

Clarity hit her brain like a lightening bolt. Suddenly the poster made sense! Her mind, her very being, identity and dignity was swaddled in layers. He had managed to wrap not only her eyes, but her mind to keep her isolated from the world. She wanted to be something, make a difference like the women she spied on. All he wanted was clean clothes, food and her obedience. Leaving the clinic she felt like a newborn with a whole life ahead of her. Ignoring the rain, she walked to the nearest police station and asked for help.

It’s time once again, for the weekly, 100 word exercise known as the ”Friday Fictioneers”. Go HERE to read the stories or submit one of your own.

Sliding up the headboard, she leaned into the pillows to stare at the window, her own thoughts a form of torture. Just what was she trying to save? A house, a sham marriage,  social status? It was all a sham, she knew that now. He gave her a magnificent house and anything else she wanted. What he didn’t offer was fidelity.

She had seen proof of his conquests, and she deserved better. It was time to wrap her heart in ice where he was concerned and move on.