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…”

Wait For Us! – Friday Fictioneers

Good Wednesday, dear Readers.  Hope your first day of Summer is filled with sunshine (for those of you in the northern hemisphere, that is) or at least, like me, with bits and spurts of sunshine between showers!  If you are in the southern hemisphere, hopefully your first day of winter is nice and mild.

We are once again gathered for a weekly 100-word story-telling session from folks all ’round the world.  Pretty darn cool, if you ask me.  And if you don’t, well that’s okay too.

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for keeping all us ducks in a row and this week, thank you to Ted Strutz for a photo that brought me back a few years to an event that is quite a memorable one.  Sadly I can only give you bits and spurts but let me assure you, the longer version is a hoot and a half.  Hopefully this one still comes through as funny.

Should you wish to participate, then by all means, click on Rochelle’s name and get the hows and whys and if you just want to read more stories, then click on the blue frog.

Get the Code

Copyright © Ted Strutz

Genre:  Remembery (yes, I decided to call it that)

Word count:  100 – always

Wait For Us!

After spending the day in Sint Maarten, we gave ourselves 60 minutes to return the Jeeps and make our way to the cruise ship.

Traffic jam!  In “downtown” Philipsburg?  Really?  Over the walkie-talkie, Sébastien said,  “If I make a move, will you follow?”

“Right”, said Mick, “Follow!  You’re crazy! We’re not even moving!”

“Just follow me!”

Movie-like, Sébastien, shifted to the left onto the sidewalk and drove past the traffic jam, pedestrians scattering in all directions.

We three families followed, dropped off the Jeeps and ran like crazy up the pier.

“Wait for us!!!” we yelled before the ship pulled away.

Fascination – Friday Fictioneers

It’s Wednesday already!  You know it.  Friday Fictioneers is here.  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple has chosen a photo from a fellow participant and wonderful writer himself, c.e. ayr of Sound Bite Fiction fame.  Thank you to you both for your part in this week’s fun.  I admit to feeling stumped at first.  Then a most wonderful memory came forth and I couldn’t go anywhere else.  So, sorry (not really 😉 ).  No fiction from me again this week.  I can’t help myself.

Click on the blue frog to read more stories or to add your own.  Want to know the how-to of Friday Fictioneers, click on Rochelle’s name!

Fascination

The boy was fascinated by trains.  Less than a hundred yards away, the train rumbled by several times per day, shaking the house, thrilling him.

Daddy would set up his old set from when he was a boy and they would lie on their tummies, watching it go round and round.

One day, Daddy said, “Let’s go on an adventure!”  The next thing the boy knew, he and his family were part of the rumble, watching the world whizz by.

How a one-hour ride each way could bring so much joy…

…what he wouldn’t give to go on one more trip.

trains-aidan-and-daddy

A little show and tell, if you will… Aidan with Mick and the old train set; Iain, Mick and Aidan waiting to board the train and Aidan transfixed.

So many moons ago.  This was in 2003.  Sweet memories indeed!

The Hanging – Friday Fictioneers

With joy I write this from my brand new, old computer!  Yes. Many, MANY thanks to my brother-in-law, Chris, for helping me set up Mick’s computer that had been collecting dust on the floor of the office for 1 1/2 years and for saving my old pictures from my now-defunct one.

Back to business.. Thanks to the 45-years-married wonderful couple of Rochelle and Jan for the joint effort this week.  I know, I know… it is Friday Fictioneers… but, I can’t help it if every photo Rochelle choses brings me down memory lane!!  I haven’t even bothered to change the names of the players… 😀

Click on the blue frog if you want to read more stories and hey, why don’t you play? Click on Rochelle’s name for the how-to!

jan-wayne-fields

Word count:  100

Genre:  Memoir

The Hanging

Holding his hand over his throat, he repeatedly took quick peeks in the truck mirror, immediately putting his hand back, while opening and closing his mouth, sticking out his tongue, making choking sounds.

“What the hell are you doing?” Tracy asked.

“I’m afraid to look,” said Mick, sheepishly.

“What? Show me!”

He pulled away his hand, revealing a red welt all across his throat.

“Jeez!  What the hell did you do to yourself this time?”

“I took my bike to go to the bathroom and cut across the neighbours’ site as they’re gone now.  The idiot left behind his clothesline!”

 

 

Organised – Friday Fictioneers

Yay!  It’s raining so I got cut from working today.  This means I have time to write and read!  Welcome to Friday Fictioneers, folks, a place where we we get a picture and have to write a 100-word story with beginning, middle and end, based on said picture.  Some days are harder than others, and some days you wonder where in the heck your idea came from.  The important thing is to go with it and see what happens!  This week’s photo comes from wonderful author, Claire Fuller

Rochelle is our hostess, who somehow, between writing, editing, fretting and living life, manages to take care of all of us.  Thank you Rochelle!  Should you want to join in the fun, please click on this link for the how-to!  Should you not yet be ready to write your own, click on the blue frog below and read other stories.  You never know, it might inspire you!

Word Count:  100

Genre:  Fiction

Organised

claire-fuller

Me:  Babe, where’s the blue box with that doohickey I need?

Him:  Second unit, third shelf, behind the white box marked ‘Halloween’.

Me:  Honey, do you know if we have any more thingamajigs to tie the whatsits together?

Him:  Unit beside the freezer, second shelf, between the red and green boxes.  Can’t miss it – orange, your favourite colour.

Me:  Sweetie?  Where, oh where, did you hide the whatchamacallits?

Him: …

Me:  Babe?

Him:  …

Me:  If you could see the state of your garage today, you’d be rolling in your grave bottle.  Needless to say, I cannot find a thing since you left.

***

By the way… the reason I say bottle and not grave, is, well, that is where he resides for the moment! 😉

2014-12-28 23.18.57

Middlebury – Friday Fictioneers

After a couple of weeks off, here I am, back at Friday Fictioneers on a Wednesday!  I was touched by the notes from some who were worried at my absence!  Refreshed (sort of) from my week in Cuba with my boys, here is my take on this week’s prompt, photo supplied by our very one hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. (Please, no additional ‘e’, ‘h’ or ‘s’ need be added to her name!)

Now, we all know that we, the Friday Fictioneers, do not like serials on this here forum, though we are good with recurring characters.  And, as per the rules, this one is meant to stand alone.  But! For those who wonder or remember (and I don’t expect you to), this is the next part of the “Seats 20A and 20C” saga…  A story, that I promise you, when I get my ducks in a better row, will be told in its entirety!

So, should you wish to add your story or to read some fabulous ones, please click on the Blue Frog!

Get the InLinkz Code

©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Genre:  True Story

Word Count:  100

Middlebury

No planes were taking off in the snowstorm.  Frustrated, we rented a car and drove from Philadelphia, PA to Newport, VT.

It was a hellish ride in the blinding snow.  A Ford F-150 driver, equipped with a plow, advised us the road ahead was closed. He suggested we follow him as he cleared the way for us, leading us to a town.  We were exhausted and needed to rest.

It looked like a snowy ghost town.

Heyyyyy, Isn’t this where we went camping a few years ago?

Just like that, I was at Jackson’s on the River, summer of 2010.

Middlebury

Middlebury