Good Wednesday morning or afternoon or evening or … well, you get my drift! All depends on where on the globe you find yourself, right? Rochelle has stopped by my mailbox once again with our weekly challenge of writing a 100-word story based on an image. This week’s supplied by her lovely hubs, Jan, from their very recent trip out west. I cannot lie. I stared at this picture for some time. Marc came to my rescue once again. Thanks, B!
Oh! I forgot! Click on the blue frog to see what others have come up with or, better yet, add your own!
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Hot and sweaty from the climb, she plopped down on a rock, stripped and let the mountain air cool her body. Sipping from her canteen, she looked out at the beautiful vista in front of her. It felt exquisite to be alone and quiet. Dealing with these love-sick suitors had frazzled her to no end. They put Pepe Le Pew to shame! Spring had to be in the air.
Body dry and breath calmed, she took out her wing-suit, slipped it on, walked to the edge and jumped.
Arms and legs spread wide, soaring with the wind, she found serenity.
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!
Word count: 100
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!”
Welcome, welcome, my friends, to Friday Fictioneers. Yes, yes, I know, it is Wednesday. What can I say? Some of us in this group like to confuse!
This week, Rochelle, our lovely host, has given us an image by her main squeeze, Jan W. Fields. Oh the directions I could have gone with this. ‘Twas hard to choose but sometimes, you just have to let the fingers do the talking!
Her story is fabulous as are the other participants’. Please do go have a read and, should you be willing to try your hand at this 100-word craft-thing, please do. Click on the blue frog for instructions and whatnot!
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As you leave the house for your walk with your faithful dog, the hum of the highway drones on in the distance and you note your steps beating a rhythm, highlighted by the dog’s collar tinkling like the high notes of a piano. Before long, the wind picks up and the denuded branches bang together adding a back beat. You notice, as you near the park, the swish of the marcescent leaves like brushes on a drum. Approaching the river, the steady flow beneath the ice replaces the hum of the highway, the birds’ chirping adding high notes.