friday fictioneers – Kelley Farrell

Trash

Posted on February 7, 2021 by Kelley Farrell

Paper-thin, barely blocking any light, practically sandpaper.

Mildred was the premier treasure hunter in this realm. She commanded respect and awe. Her presence was a gift.

After all, a well placed treasure could make her rich. Of course, she would bestow a bit of that blessing onto anyone who helped her locate it.

But this … this was abysmal.

Mildred knew what the perfect specimen was and this was not it.

“I thought we were clear that you had a paper of the highest quality!” Mildred held the rolls high. “Look at this! This is not treasure! This is trash!”

For Friday Fictioneers
Word Count: 100
Imagine dealing with some kind of inter-dimensional treasure hunters after the good toilet paper during Covid.
PHOTO PROMPT © Trish Nankivell

Stage Fright

Posted on January 17, 2021 by Kelley Farrell

It started as a ball of anticipation settling into my stomach.

Rolling and roiling, loud grumbles began to escape.

“I don’t feel good.”

My bandmates, bless them, pat my back and instructed me in deep breathing.

It wasn’t enough.

I walked reluctantly on stage, head down and anxiety churning in my throat.

Don’t look up.

Too late.

The packed house stared back, each pair of eyes boring holes straight into me.

I couldn’t even start playing before the churning in my throat spilled over.

That’s why we have to move, preferably tonight when no one can see me run away.

Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers (late, late, I’m late …)
PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

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Ghost Hunting

Posted on December 4, 2020 by Kelley Farrell

Hattie almost missed the fraying brown clue blending into the brickwork.

Almost.

Matt would never let anyone miss it completely.

“It’s a clue!” He howled as he dropped to his belly and slithered towards the string. “Hattie. Hattie. Look. They were here.”

“I don’t see anything Matt.” He groaned and lifted the string between clenched knuckles.

“Right here. They were here.”

“Who?”

“The ghosts! Hattie! Did you forget what we were doing today?”

“I guess so Matt.”

“Ghosts. Ghost hunting. The email invite was clear.”

Hattie gazed at the sunset. Why were the cute ones always so weird?

Word Count: 98
For Friday Fictioneers (I’m getting better at this!)
Photo credit: © CEAyr

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Fried Okra

Posted on October 24, 2020October 24, 2020 by Kelley Farrell

“I was surprised you agreed to get BBQ with me.”

“Why? I know the importance of good BBQ. I am from here remember?”

“Debatable.”

“Oh, fuck off, it is not.”

He tossed a sugar packet in my direction.

“For your ‘unsweet’ tea.”

I stared out the window, wondering if things would ever be the same.

“Seriously, what are you going to eat?”

“Well, I do love fried okra.”

“You’re going to eat fried okra? That’s it?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t think anyone likes okra that much.”

“Blasphemy. Fried okra is the best okra.”

Brief smiles.

Sighs.

“Why are you here?”

Word Count: 99
Returning to Friday Fictioneers , after forever, with an only dialogue piece.
PHOTO PROMPT – © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Sure Thing

Posted on June 19, 2020June 20, 2020 by Kelley Farrell

We aren’t born with murderous intentions.

Walter’s a good man. He would do anything for those he loves. He’d never hurt a fly.

That’s what I hate the most. I need someone with a spine, someone not afraid to push back and knock me around.

I clutch the ladder until my knuckles go white. In my mind I can see Walter tumbling head first two stories down.

My muscles tense, ready to rip the ladder from under his feet.

“Honey, I don’t really need you to spot me. Can you get my toolkit?”

I relax, my fingers loosen.

“Sure thing.”

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Also check out Pint Sized Lit

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Salt

Posted on May 29, 2019 by Kelley Farrell

Saoirse could smell the ocean salt clinging to his skin. She could still see the sunlight reflecting in his hazel eyes. This was where Julian belonged.

It hadn’t been good enough.

He had the ocean in his soul but around here the dark corners echoed of empty promises far louder.

She begged him. He answered their call anyway.

If I could go back, Saoirse wondered, when was the moment you decided?

His mother wiped her tears away.

“This is where he was happiest.”

Saoirse inhaled the ocean air and tilted the urn. They watched as the waves carried Julian away.

Word count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers (on a Wednesday!) Click the link for rules and more stories.

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Day 339

Posted on May 11, 2019 by Kelley Farrell

Sometimes I forget to breathe.
It’s not that I don’t want to.
The air is just so heavy now.
Like at the end of it all we only had sins left
And they’re trying to smother the few of us that remain into non-existence.
Of course I survived, heaven nor hell wanted me.
I wouldn’t have pushed the button if I’d have known …
I’m forgetting again.
Today I saw it.
Squat pale sandstone in the distance and figures bobbing in and out.
The lab notes said they have a way to go back,
If they’ll let me in.

on-route-66-jean-l-hays

Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneer’s, to read more click the link.

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No Business for Friends

Posted on April 26, 2019 by Kelley Farrell

Words blurred in and out of Delia’s focus. She slammed the book into her lap and glared towards the younger woman bound by ropes in the backseat.

“See, this is our problem. You never shut up.”

The woman blinked as the statement hit her but the gag prevented her from responding.

“Even now I can just hear you whining.”

The woman stared towards the slouching fabric above her despondently.

“I thought we were friends.” Delia mocked. “You know you can’t have friends in this business.”

The woman sighed.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Tomorrow I’ll pretend I never knew your name.”

Word Count: 100
For the always fascinating Friday Fictioneers, click the link and blue frog to read more.
I realize this is a beach and not a pier that you drop bodies off but you know … artistic liberties.

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Gathering Place

Posted on April 5, 2019 by Kelley Farrell

You always said the kitchen was our gathering place.

“Over fine food families are saved.”

We’ve finally begun washing away the smoke gathered on your plates. Odds and ends scavenged from charred remains gather dust among piles of bills. There’s a bill for every emotion it seems but our payment for grief falls short.

In your absence we gather under your favorite tree. We try to laugh but they burn our lungs on the way out, so we stand and pretend. Maybe we believe you’ll turn the corner, picnic basket in hand. Maybe if we just squint a little harder …

Word Count: 100
For Friday Fictioneers, many thanks to Rochelle for herding us in.

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Modern Gods

Posted on March 29, 2019 by Kelley Farrell

The fates decided to mechanize after Atropos, a little overwhelmed with the increasing demands of the job, had her “spree”.

“Well, there were too many of them anyway.” She dismissed the fragmented lives with a sweep of her hand.

Clotho agreed, “I don’t think I’ve had a break in a few thousand years. They reproduce like rabbits.”

“I’ve heard talk that machines can replace gods.” Lachesis reminded her sisters.

“I’d cut their strings too if I could.”

Clotho shushed the old women, “This is insanity. If Zeus can use Tinder we can have a machine to spin thread.”

Word Count: 98
For Friday Fictioneers – I made it on Friday! Click the link to read the rules and more flash fiction.