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 What Pegman Saw

The Art of Dying

There’s a certain beauty to life alone.
A certain finesse to the fine art of dying in no ones arms but your own.
I’ve lost count of the seconds slowly rolling into days.
Those things were never ours anyway.
It’s funny …
The noises your mind will come up with to keep time floating in oceans with little salt.
At first you know it’s just the children in your head playing.
Then you begin to doubt as shadows creep out.
Humans can die from any number of ailments …
A common cold to a lightening strike,
Historic rejection or morbid curiosity,
It’s what makes us the same.
At least that’s what they say.
Maybe I relied too much on silence in those days.

My shadows frolic through the roaring break.
They toss their hands to the wind
And dance the steps to heaven.
I don’t imagine they’ll let me live.


Word Count: 147

A write for
What Pegman Saw. This weeks location is St. Helena island. For more information and rules visit the link. To read more stories click the blue froggy below.

Art of Dying is also a song by George Harrison, not really much in common with this piece but still nice to listen to.

Posted in friday fictioneers

One Good Rebellion

PHOTO PROMPT © Russell Gayer

“It’s soldiers; marching …” Liza stomped in place.
“I don’t know. What about a mass influx of downtrodden people?”
“Hannibal’s army rumbling over the Alps?”
“Liza, you’re always thinking war. What about the devastation left behind?” 
“Bea, those rocks are strong! Why shouldn’t they be troops marching to victory?”
“One good quake and they’d fall.”
“One good rebellion from your influx?”

A group of high-pitched voices chimed in, “There they are! Ready or not here we come!”
Liza tried to run but found herself face down in the dirt thanks to a stray rock. 
“One good rebellion.” Bea laughed.

Word count: 99

A write for
Friday Fictioneers wrangled in by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

To read more click the blue froggy below


Posted in Word Prompt

2018 Round Up

I wanted to do a series of 2018 round up posts …

But I got sick instead.

With life not slowing down until after the new year (my daughter’s birthday is this weekend too!) I figured I should write something before Dec 30 next year.

This year I made the choice to stop focusing on hitting the publish button every day, whether the piece was good, bad, complete … whatever, and put more focus on participating in the community and the quality of what I was writing here.

That has helped me so much. I’ve gotten a ton of feedback from fellow writers which has helped me improve and become more confident. I appreciate every bit of it!

Without further ado … I’m linking the top 5 most viewed posts from 2018

#5 Counting Lighters

#4 was a tie:
Perfect Moon and Wild Mess

#3
Biblical

#2
Dead Leg

And #1, which surprised me: 
Jailbait

I hope everyone has a great New Years!

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

4:29 – Friday Fictioneers

Beep.

“Hey kid. It’s …. uhhh …. it’s dad. I’m here.”

Howling wind and feedback sent the signal fading in and out.

“Wherever here is. I think I found it. It’s on the train tracks … over a valley. It’s a steep valley, gotta be careful.”

Quincy squinted at the figure moving towards the tunnel in front of him. 

“Anyway, it’s 4:30, Sunday the … 30th. It’s … uh … it’s October. Hey it’s your birthday, sorry I’m not there bud. I know you’ll tell your mom I’m sorry. She never believed me.”

The message sputtered feedback.

Beep.

Quincy checked his watch, 4:29, the 30th of October. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn M. Miller

Word Count: 99

I’m super late on this one. I intended to write it back on Friday, then I intended to write it over the weekend. Thank you to
Rochelle for wrangling Friday Fictioneers.

Posted in Word Prompt

Of Dreams

The sight of him sends heat pulsing through my veins. My skin grows warm. Sheer will pushes me forward. What’s worse, my throat dries and heart hammers, I can feel his energy fixating on me. There’s a thousand women in this room; a thousand men too. He’s misdirected. He’s confused. Why would anyone pursue? 

Doesn’t he see? People like me … We exist in the shadow. There for your amusement, or bemusement, but never serious inquiry. We slip in the cracks, stay behind a crowd’s back. His aim’s amiss. That must be it. 

He must know I’m just a play thing, just the monster free of chains.

Ragtag Daily Prompt – Dream

I haven’t done this prompt in a while but I’m trying to get back to writing regularly and want to incorporate it.