More Than Play – Friday Fictioneers

Wednesday is here as is Friday Fictioneers.  Rochelle is working on her third book in her fabulous trilogy – I cannot wait!  So, our hostess is on summer hiatus and is sharing beloved past posts.  However, for me, they are all new!  Thanks to Douglas M. MacIlroy for this fun photo.  If you would like to give your interpretation, please click here for the hows and whats.  Just want to read others?  Click on ze Bleu Frogue.

©Douglas M. MacIlroy

Copyright Douglas M. MacIlroy

Genre:  Fiction

Word count:  100

More Than Play

There she was, Julie Cousteau, discoverer of all things ocean.  The best of the best.  For hours she’d live in her underwater world; learning, sharing her discoveries, one with the ocean.  She felt so at home there.  Why was that?

Her reverie was broken by a rap on her head, followed by a snarky: “What’re you doing, Dingbat?”

“I’m not a dingbat, I’m a great oceanographer”, she retorted.

“Mooooom!  Julie’s wearing that stupid helmet again!”

“Leave her alone, Ben. She’s not playing. She’s planning her future.”

“Pfft!  Girls can’t do that!”

“Oh? Now where did that foolish notion come from?”


Self-Sufficient – Friday Fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers is here once again.  Rochelle has decided to take a summer break and will be sharing re-runs, which for me, who’s only been around for a bit over a year, are all new.  This weeks submission was suggested by Sandra Crook (love the choice) with photo supplied by Piya Singh.

Click on the frog to read more stories or better yet, to add your own!

©Piya Singh

Genre:  Fiction

Word Count:  100


He’d always preferred the woods over the city.  Oh, he’d done his time in the hustle and bustle of the city.  He’d even held his own, to be sure.  Honestly, it was not where he was happiest.  Give him a cabin in the woods, an axe and his rifle – he’d make do.  Cut his own wood to keep him warm and cook his food.  Shoot whatever game he could find.  Plant a garden to provide his vegetables.  Totally self-sufficient. Could manage on his own.

Trouble with this scenario? He was no Thoreau. He loved people too much and was so lonely.


Austin – Friday Fictioneers

It’s Wednesday, for a couple of hours, anyway.  What does that mean?  It means Friday Fictioneers!  Our lovely hostess, Rochelle, blogger at Addicted to Purple, artist and published author, (you really MUST read her books!) has provided her own picture as the photo prompt.  Isn’t it lovely? What does it make you think of?  Have you a story you’d like to share with us?  Click on the link to Rochelle’s blog for the hows and whats.   Not sure about adding your own but would like to read other interpretations?  Click on the Blue Frog below.

©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Genre:  Not Fiction

Word Count:  100


Today is your birthday.

I can barely wrap my head around the fact I could be the mother of a twenty-year-old.  Yes, I am way old enough, but still.

What is the proper term anyway?  I was your mother, you are no longer here.  Am I still?

I was pregnant for the first Mother’s Day but you were gone before the second one.  I never got to celebrate.

Time keeps moving forward, just like the tide keeps coming in.  Life is good.  You have two brothers and I am (still) a mother.

I miss you.  Daddy doesn’t have to anymore.

Promises – Friday Fictioneers

It’s Friday Fictioneers time again!  Couldn’t quite make it for yesterday and today, I just had to enjoy the splendid day.  Zeke was most happy to go on one of our two-hour romps.  It’s amazing how we can compose a story during a walk, get home and… nothing.  Gone.  Could not for the life of me get it back!  Oh well… C’est la vie!

Thank you, Rochelle, for patiently hosting this gig week after week, putting up with who knows what to make it all happen so magnificently!  Thank you, J. Hardy Carroll for a picture that, I am sure, has made more than one writer think of train stations and bus stops…

Should you wish to check out the other stories, please, click on the blue frog where you’ll find some interesting takes on this picture, I am sure!

©J.Hardy Carroll

Genre:  Fiction

Word Count:  100



Yes, that’s what she’d call it.  Sounded much better than Waiting, didn’t it?

And yet, here she was, anticipating.  Again.

Who was she kidding?

She fell for it each and every time.

Why did she believe it would be different, just this once?

That what was promised this time would actually materialise?

That was was said was true?

I promise, we’ll do this.  I promise, we’ll go there.  I promise, we’ll start fresh. I promise…

Guess what?

She was no longer waiting for someone else’s promises!

With anticipation, she climbed aboard the train alone.

She would wait no more!


The Meetup – Friday Fictioneers

Yes, it is Wednesday, so that means Friday Fictioneers time!  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, artist, writer, patient hostess,  has chosen our very own c.e. Ayr’s photo…

Don’t ask me why I went where I did but, I, ahem, went down a different path this week…

Should you wish to join in on our crazy adventure, please click on Rochelle’s link for the hows and whats.  If you wish to read other participants’, just click on the blue frog below!

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Got some creative crit and decided it was well-founded. I re-wrote the story as a result… 

© c.e. Ayr.

Genre:  Fiction

Word Count:  100

The Meet-Up

It was supposed to be for a light lunch.  Neither was hungry, so they had a drink:  water for her, soda for him.

They sat at a table and exchanged pleasantries.  He asked questions, his gaze intense and she felt like he was reading more than her words.  She felt the tension build and squirmed in discomfort, feeling totally exposed, yet strangely excited.

Before she knew how, he made her feel things she never imagined.

As he left her, dazed, yet lit up, he said:  “You’ll see, this will play out in your head all day.”

He was not kidding.

Chinese Whispers – Friday Fictioneers

It’s Wednesday!  Well for the next thirty minutes, anyway… ;-)  Hostest with the mostest, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields has chosen a rather interesting photo this week.  Thank you Roger Bultot for setting me on a strange path with this one!

I want to apologise to my fellow FFers for my lack of participation in reading and commenting.  I started a new job last week and feel like a whirling dirvish.  I know once a routine has been set by both the golf club where I work and by myself, I will do better.  I promise!

If you are interested in reading other stories, please, by all means, click on the blue frog.  Should you feel inspired to add your story, please click on Rochelle’s name above and follow the instructions!

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© Roger Bultot

Copyright © Roger Bultot

Genre:  Fiction

Word Count:  100

Chinese Whispers

Did you hear Martha and George are getting divorced?

No way!  Hey, did you hear? Martha’s leaving George!

Get out, Theresa.  That can’t be.   Listen up, June, I heard George cheated and Martha’s leaving him.

Oh come on now!  That is hogwash.  Stop spreading tales.  Susie, Martha caught George cheating on her with the maid!

Gretchen, did you know? I can’t believe it, but Martha found George with the mailman!

Oh lordy, we shouldn’t spread rumours!   Francine!  Martha just found out George is gay.  She’s leaving him.

You will not believe this, Danielle.  George is dead and Martha did it!

What Price Safety? – Friday Fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers is here.  Our hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields has chosen quite the interesting photo supplied by Mary Shipman.  So many directions one could go in with this one, don’t you think?  Oh?  You have your own version to add?  Please do!  We participants love reading others’ takes on these photo prompts!  Click on the blue frog for the hows and wheres and whatnots!

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© Mary Shipman

© Mary Shipman

Genre:  Fiction

Word Count:  100

What Price Safety?

She refused to show her fear to her two small children, smiling brightly, holding their hands tightly.

“This way please, Ma’am.”

They followed the man into the seemingly endless warehouse, eyes wide in wonder.

“What is this place, Mum?” asked the oldest.

Before she could answer, the man did.  “It is a place for new beginnings, Lad. No more living on the streets for you.”

They looked to her for confirmation, hope in their eyes.

She nodded yes. “We will live in the back apartment and take care of the store.”

Her body was a small price for their safety.