Time for Contemplation – Friday Fictioneers

Good afternoon, Fellow Friday Fictioneers!  Please allow me first to apologise for not reading each and each and every one of your stories, especially of those kind of you to leave me a comment on mine.  I do strive to at least do that!  It’s been a helluva week and I am running after my tail, so to speak, and feel like I’m accomplishing a whole lotta nuthin’ in the meantime!

I promise to try and do better this week, despite my late start!  (You know, that is why some of us strive to write on Wednesday.  It permits us to keep up.  Usually.)

This photo stumped me most of the day.  I was going to go one route but felt that was too predictive of me.  So I stepped away, cleared away the last of the boxes in my dining room (yes, finally!), did a few loads of laundry, blah blah blah. and then this came to me.  Hope you enjoy!

Thank you to Rochelle for herding us wild things each and every week and for supplying this week’s photo, to boot!   Click on her name for the rules and regs and, should you wish to add your two cents’ worth or read other fabulous stories (not that I’m assuming mine is fabulous….),  please click on the blue frog below!

Time for Contemplation

She let the warm water caress her skin, washing away all the stress, sorrow, sadness and angst.  There were so many things taking up space in her mind.  What was it about showers that did more than clean one’s body?

It was almost the best part of her day.  Alone.  Warm water.  Peace and quiet allowing her to contemplate.  Dream.  Cry.  Make to-do lists.  Plan vacations.  Pleasure.

“Moooooooo-oooooommmmm…….”!

Like a needle dragged violently across a vinyl record, her reality came screaching in with the slam of the door against the wall.

Sigh.

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I need a glass of juice!”

Between a Rock and a Hard Place – Friday Fictioneers

Good afternoon (for those in the EST zone, anyway) my fellow writers and readers.  It is already Wednesday so, time for another Friday Fictioneer 100-word story.  This week, our fearless leader, Rochelle, has chosen a picture from another master of the short story, c.e. ayr.  So many places I though of going and yet, when my fingers hit the keyboard, and after many starts, edits, cuts, restarts, this is what came out.  I dunno… sometimes you just have to let go.

Should you wish to join in on the fun (and it is fun, I promise you), just click on Rochelle’s name for the rules and regs.  To read more stories inspired by this interesting rock, click on the blue frog and enjoy!

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

 

She felt stuck.

She went on a coffee date with one man and their conversation lasted over two hours – a exhilarating, intellectual connection.  Further phone conversations yet no second date.

So, when the persistent fellow she had always dismissed asked her on a date, she acquiesced.  Nice guy, uncomplicated, rough around the edges.  But then they kissed.  Whoa!  The passion was palpable.  They met several more times and the passion increased.  It was exhilarating.

She knew herself enough to know that eventually, she would also need more intellectual stimulation.

Right?

Or, maybe it was time to just let go.

***

https://www.elephantjournal.com/2014/02/she-let-go/

 

Too Little, Too Late – Friday Fictioneers

Hey, hey, hey there!  Hope all is well with you.  Thanks to Tracey and Rochelle‘s back and forth on my posted “Secret Admirer” pic (on Facebook), it got chosen as a prompt…

I will be most interested in seeing what others come up with!

Should you want to join in on the fun, click on Rochelle’s name for the rules and regs.  To simply enjoy reading the other stories, click on ze bleu frogue…

Genre:  Fiction

Word count:  Really?  Always 100!

Too Little, Too Late

Boxes packed, she took one more look around the place, trying to feel something.  Anything.  She couldn’t.  She was numb.

After years of working at what she thought would be a wonderful future, she finally accepted that she was the only one doing the building.

Every time she got to a point of wanting to give up, he turned on the charm; became the most attentive lover, the best partner and she’d be fooled into staying.

Not this time.  She was not going to waste the rest of her life with such a man.

He could keep his damn flowers.

The Power of Teachers – Friday Fictioneers

Good afternoon, my faithful readers!  Yes it is Wednesday-Friday!  Time for Friday Fictioneers.  This week’s photo is courtesy of J.Hardy Carroll, a fine writer to be sure.  Our hostess is über-talented Rochelle Wisoff-Fields who, without fail, shows up weekly with a new challenge.  ‘Twill be most interesting to see what the 80-odd other writers in this challenge come up with.  If you should care to check it out, please click on Monsieur Frog right below.  Maybe you have an idea of your own? Then do join in!  It’s free!  It’s fun!  It’s a great way to learn how to ‘cut the fluff’ from your writing…

©J.Hardy Carroll

 

The Power of Teachers

“Ring, ring, ting-a-ling, hello.  Ring, ring, ting-a-ling hello.

When the telephone is ringing, I’m the one who comes to answer…

Ring, ring, ting-a-ling hello!

“Do you remember when Mrs. Bell made us sing that stupid song in music class?”

Lucy made a face.  “Like I want to remember that witch.  She hated my guts.”

“Really?  For me it was Miss Dunn.”

“She always made me feel so stupid…”

“Dunn marked me down, said school was too easy, I didn’t have to try…”

“Took me years to gain my self-confidence back.”

Teachers can really make or break a child, can’t they?

 

Ask For Directions – Friday Fictioneers

I am very happy to say I am typing this from a real computer, not an iPad, at my desk, surrounded by boxes and boxes and boxes… Seriously.  How many books and bobbles do I have, already?

Instead of “doing the right thing” and emptying said boxes and placing the books I shall be keeping into the bookshelves, I find myself much happier writing my little memoir and sharing it with you, lovely readers.  A huge thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this party, coming up with fabulous stories herself (sometimes two!) each and every week.  As well, we cannot do a photo prompt without a photo, so, shout out to Kent Bonham for this week’s pic.

To participate, just click on the blue frog and you will be brought to the lineup of a bunch of fabulous writers, each one give us a different story.  Try it, you’ll like it!

©Ken Bonham

Genre:  Humourous Memoir

Word count:  Toujours 100

Ask For Directions

 

“The stupid signs for the 417 have disappeared!  Now, where do we go?”

“Hang on, lemme see…”

“Dammit!  I’m stopping to ask for directions again.”

“We have stopped three times already.  I cannot believe we get lost every single time we drive through Ottawa!  This is ridiculous!”

 

I watched Mick wipe his brow with the back of his hand.  It was minus 37ºC, the car window was open and he was sweating like a horse.

 

“You are ridiculous, you know that?  We could never participate in Amazing Race!  Every time we’d get lost, you’d freak out!”

“I know, Rog, I know.

***

Mick could not stand being lost.  I teased him mercilessly about it.  Once, I went on a “by-myself-weekend”.  When I came back, I told him:  “Know what I did while I was out in the Townships?  I took a road that I had no clue where I would end up!”   Needless to say, he responded with a “hardy-har-har…”

The Seance – Friday Fictioneers

I never thought I’d manage to play this week. I have no access to my computer as the damages caused by my water woes are finally being fixed! Woot! A brand-spanking-new floor is being installed as we speak. Furniture is hanging out in a truck somewhere and I could not watch TV if I tried as it’s way too noisy.  So, while I’m sitting in my backyard I am plugging away at this with my ancient iPad. So how addictive is this Friday Fictioneers business, eh? Thank you always to Rochelle for keeping us interested and this week, thank you to Janet Webb for the use of her lovely photo.

image

Genre:  Humour
Word count: 100

The Seance

Everything was set up just right. The jar full of magical sparkles was the key, according to Madame Lespérance.  How serendipitous her name meant “hope”.  Judy felt it a good omen.  She would be able to contact Stanley for sure!

All she had to do was wait for sundown to light the candle and start the special incantation.

Dusk finally arrived, she closed her eyes and recited “Oh great spirit, help me find Stan–”

“Judy! What in the name of hell…?”

“Stanley!  My spell worked! You’re here!”

“For the love of God… I told you I’d be back for supper…”

 

Hamster Wheel – Friday Fictioneers

Howdy my friends!  Welcome to Friday Fictioneers, where participants start participating on Wednesday!  Just one of those things that started way back when, who knows why but has become the status quo.  Kinda like how expressions get twisted over time and have nothing to do with the original meaning!  The important thing is, we gather ’round the weekly photo prompt to come up with some kind of interesting (we hope) or different (we really hope) story in 100 words or less.  Must be a good challenge because we come back week after week!  Should you wish to join in on the fun (read: addiction), click on Rochelle‘s name – yes, the name you just read – she is our fearless leader and official cat herder.  She explains the whole howzit of this game.  Or, if you are still to shy, but want to see what others have come up with, click on the blue frog to see who did what!  Thank you to Claire Sheldon for supplying this week’s photo – bet you were surprised to find yours here, eh? He he he…

© Claire Sheldon

Genre:  Fiction – or is it?

Word Count:  100 – always and forever.  It’s doable, you should try!

Hamster Wheel

She sat at her desk and stared into space.  So. Much. Shit. To. Do.  Laundry, vacuuming, toilet-scrubbing (blech!), window, weeding, groceries… the list never ends, is on repeat with more added!  Day after day, same crap, different pile.  Is this all there is?  How the hell do I get off this redundant hamster wheel?

Her gaze dropped to the clutter that was her desk.  She grabbed pens and paper and started drawing (best she could, she was no Rochelle), cutting and pasting ideas, creating a vision board.

Just because this is today’s reality, doesn’t mean it has to remain so!