Posted in friday fictioneers

Best Laid Plans

The plan was fool proof.

I picked up the dress – white lace and satin – and called the priest, well, six. That’s how many it took before I found a priest rogue enough to perform a Catholic ceremony in the dead of night.

All the man had to do was show up.

His bike leaned politely against the building as always. My knock echoed loudly only angering me more.

“Can I help you?” I stared at the woman peeking over his shoulder. “My wife and I were just leaving.” Rage burned through me.

That’s the last thing I remember.

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

Word Count: 98

Friday Fictioneers, many thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Click the link to read more.

Posted in friday fictioneers

Chicken Little

Sia tapped an unsuspecting puddle with her toe. Startled it rippled away, gently distorting the realities reflected on its surface.

The ripples transformed her brother, straining to peer into the dark general store, to a boy scavenging after Christmas. Barren trees became crumbling sticks, not even good for fire.

The sky was falling.

“Something’s wrong.”

Marta’s back spasmed and her lungs burned as she coughed. Thin strings of blood stretched from her lips to the palm of her hand.

Only her son caught sight of the panic in Marta’s eyes.

“Nothing’s wrong Sia. Stop daydreaming and come on.”

PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

Word Count: 98
For Friday Fictioneers courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff Fields. Thank you as always.

Posted in friday fictioneers

Fire in the Night

“What do you see?”

I see the future. I see you and me. I see my heart exploding. I see a million fireworks. I see galaxies.

I feel it all within me.

I see our first kiss, unintentionally wonderful. I see awkward laughs and gentle embraces.

I see lives intertwined, threads to a needle connecting time. 

I see my past fade away at your touch.

I see light fill empty spaces.

“What do I see?”

I see I’m in love with you but I can’t tell you that.

“It just looks like a fire dying in the night to me.”

PHOTO PROMPT © Anshu Bhojnagarwala

Word Count: 100

For
Friday Fictioneers, massive thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for wrangling this massive flash fiction challenge in every week.

Posted in friday fictioneers

Knotted Hands

My grandfather planted this tree with roots poisoned after the war.
His father watered it, the seed which came before.
My father nurtured them, these roots of ruined fiber.
This tree grew ever higher.
Its fruit, rotting, my mother prepared for me.
She sweetened it, tried to soothe it down,
Nothing could disguise the smell of these roots rotting in the ground.
It falls to me, as this tree must be fed;
A living sacrifice of a life never lead.
I toss my children as far as I can;
Mutter the same empty words my mother offered
Over knotted hands.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Word Count: 100

A write for
Friday Fictioneers, roped in by Rochelle Wisoff Fields. I also think it’s Sunday (though I am not 100% sure). I’ve been writing my research proposal/thesis. I’m afraid I’m not good for much else right now.

Click the blue froggy to read more!

Posted in friday fictioneers

The Wild Things

The girls stared across the table at each other. Each clutched a brightly colored piece of paper in dirty fingers.
The warden tapped his watch.
“Which one’s it gonna be?”
Hana watched as her younger sister slowly unfolded her small pink slip. Janey’s face contorted into a silent victorious howl as she shot up from her old chair to take a lap around the room.
Hana slumped, defeated.
“Ok Hana, let’s go.”
“No!” Without thinking, Hana was up and running towards the muddy grass outside. “You’ll never take me alive!”

Her father groaned towards the sky, “It’s just a bath.”

PHOTO PROMPT © Priya Bajpal

Word Count: 100

A write for Rochelle’s weekly Friday Fictioneer’s. Thank you Rochelle for keeping it in line as always.

To read more click the blue froggy

Posted in friday fictioneers

Shelley Robotics

Will had built robots and explored AI since he was a boy. This new project presented new challenges but Will was ready to tackle them.

This one looked just like Sheila. Sometimes Will had to remind himself S2 was different. As she stood, unblinking, in the garage Will didn’t need reminding. 

Her arm fell to the floor with a soft thud. Will stared at the fleshy decomposing mass.

“Well, the robotic one is almost ready.”

S2 pulled her crumbling lips back like a scared dog baring teeth.

“We’ll work on that smile next. Sheila had the most beautiful smile.”

Copyright –Douglas M. MacIlroy

Frankenstein was first published in 1818. 

Word Count: 99

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers as always.

Posted in friday fictioneers

Biblical

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

He ran his fingers through the raging water. The boss was right, the rapids were tumultuous enough. The rabid water ripped gentle leaves below the surface, corrupting them beyond recognition.

“We’re all absorbed into chaos eventually.”

His walkie buzzed to life, “Tomas, are you ready?”

The boss said nothing would change without the influence of old words …

“Ready.” His voice was steady but only now did Tomas feel the sun beating down on his neck.

The first strings of red rushed through the rapids towards the town water supply.

They would pay for their dependence on old words today.

Word Count: 100

Many thanks to
Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers!