Category Archives: Fiction

Short Fiction

Vista #writephoto


Photo by Sue Vincent

Looking down, all I can see are the chalk lines of my life.  There is a path of memory behind, and I can make out that there might be a path cut into the Earth ahead, but what does it mean?  An ant on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel will have more idea of the design than I.

But then, perhaps, I am more like Michelangelo, flat on his back, quickly applying the pigment to the chalk-white plaster as it dries all too quick.  Each stroke of the brush took into account all of the others, even if they were impossible to see.

But then, he knew where he was going, didn’t he?  Do I?

Perhaps it isn’t important to see this chalk drawing of life in its entirety.  Perhaps it is better to look out and search for the distant sea.  Perhaps it is best to understand the setting.  Perhaps it is better to drink in the fragrant summer air and enjoy the view.

Perhaps it is about the vista, not the ground below my feet.

Perhaps I need to look up, not down.



Written for Sue Vincent’s writephoto challenge.  The photo at the top is her photo-prompt.  She also provided the key word “Vista”.

The More Things Change, the More…


PHOTO PROMPT @ A. Noni Mouse

Ah, summer.  The morning sun could actually reach deep into the canyon street to find the window to my claustrophobic kitchen.  The one bit of green in my life loved it, but my eyes burned.

The loud music that played half the night continued to echo in my ears.

I sat down for breakfast.  The neighbors on the right were already fighting.

I pictured my beautiful coastal house.

It was now under water.

As was my childhood home.

I still missed the farm.

The air conditioning kicking on pulled me out of my reverie.

It would be another hot day.


Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo © A. Noni Mouse. Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

Dream #writephoto


Photo by Sue Vincent

I walk down the lavender path
Under rose petal skies
Scents of lilac and cinnamon
Permeate the clear ether
Each step in the heather
nd the heath
Peels away a century

Each step reawakens a memory
Present and past collide with…

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“You asked me about my dream, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but this sounds like an acid trip turned to song. “Picture yourself in a boat” and all…”

“Well, perhaps an acid trip is a type of waking dream.”


“Anyway, the dream is simple.  Everything is vibrating, from the quarks and leptons to galaxy clusters.  We all have our own frequency with our own harmonic spectrum above it.  Sometimes we find ourselves in harmony with someone else.  Love. Or something else. Belonging. Or sometime else…”

“I was right, an acid trip.”

“A dream. And I found my harmony as I walked down the lavender path under the rose petal skies.  The scents of lilac and cinnamon permeated the clear ether.  Each step…”

“Oh, never mind.”


This was written for Sue Vincent’s writephoto challenge.  The photo at the top was taken and provided by Sue, as was the key word, “Dream“.

Delayed Green


PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehudah

Whoa, hotrod, cool that engine!  Yeah, I know it’s been a while and you’re feeling frisky, but we don’t want an accident here, do we? Live in the moment, and see the now, not the destination, OK? Good things come to those who wait, as they say.  No reason to rush it. No hurry. Let’s just enjoy idling here for a moment as we wait for the light to change and ease into it when the time is right.  No stress. Yeah, that’s it, we’ll find the rhythm and… Wait, what just happened?  What?  You popped the clutch and stalled?


Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo © Na’ama Yehudah. Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.


Yeah, the leaves are turning red, so the green is delayed ;)

More seriously, there are a few intersections around here were people accelerate on yellow (very common) and people start moving as the other direction turns red, causing at least one fatal accident a year.  “Delayed Green” helps, but the cars running the red lights figure it out and so trust their luck even more, and the accidents still happen…

This Old House


PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“I’m sorry, I’m busy all day today.  After mowing and trimming, I have to clean the gutters.  There’s supposed to be a wicked storm this week and you know I told about the mess last time it rained.”

“This week the gutters, last week putting out mulch, the week before fixing your kitchen sink, the week before that…”

“I know, I know.  Sigh.  I’ll eventually have a free day.”

“That old house sure keeps you busy.  It’s been months, years, since you’ve had any time…”

“Tell me about it.”

“Why did you buy it, anyway?”

“For the freedom it affords.”


Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

Secret #writephoto


Photo by Sue Vincent

“I have tried to understand…” There were tears at the edge of his eyes.

She kept her face as impassive as possible, still as stone.  “Have you?”  She crossed her arms.

“If you ask, perhaps not.  My failing.  I just thought… I felt… You…” His head dropped; he broke the eye contact.

“I assume you are moving on then?”

He raised his glaze, locked his eyes on hers once again.

“That seems to be your wish.”

She nodded once.

He shook his head.  “If only you would show some emotion, anything; anger, sadness, joy that I’m leaving; anything.”

She just stared, her face as emotionless as the door.

“Fine.  Goodbye.”  He turned, looked at the door for a second, and then left.

It was a relief when door closed.  He was close to discovering her secret.

She had long ago closed her heart, locked it up and threw away the key.  He thought that he could reach her, find her, but the days for that were over long ago, when…

She regained her composure, her secret safe once again. She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.

Dinner out was in order.

She checked that thought and smiled.

Dinner out alone was in order.


This was written for Sue Vincent’s writephoto challenge.  The photo at the top is Sue’s and she also provided the key word “Secret”.

The Clue



We all cringed when Maley opened the crumbled paper found with the body and tasted some of the crumbs.

He walked away, phone against face.  I could see him nodding.  In a few minutes he came back.

“Our Fast Food Killer made a mistake this time,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“The perp was at Deckards at 7:30 PM last night.  We have him on security camera and a license number.  Quick look up, and bingo.”

“You got that from a crumb?”

“He used a McDonald’s mustard.  I was there at 7:30 and saw it.  Taste confirmed.  It’s our man.”


Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo © Ted Strutz. Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

Fantasy Island


Day 4

At last, a few minutes to sit and write!  What a freaking nightmare it has been.  I guess I need to start at the beginning, just in case I don’t make it, so people know what happened.

I was on a flight from LAX to Seoul to join up with the rest of the cast. I’ll admit that I was excited to be starring in an action film based in Asia.  I mean, when I was a kid, women were the victims in this type of film, and yet, here I was…  Anyway, the flight didn’t go well.

OK, just a few flashes on what occurred on the flight.

We kept diverting south because of a major storm.  And then the turbulence.  I once experienced sever turbulence, the scariest half of an hour in my life.

This was worse.

Yeah. Nightmare.  Maybe someday I’ll be able to say more.  It is too soon.

I came to on a beach.

Every inch of my body hurt, yet, after checking myself, I only had a few minor injuries.

About an hour later I saw something floating towards shore.  OK, I had seen a few other pieces of wreckage wash up, but this was larger and as it got closer, I realized that there was person on it. Continue reading

The Guardian #writephoto


Photo by Sue Vincent

Stan stopped the little procession at the observation point. From here the sea could be seen stretching to the horizon, but it was the cliffs that caught his attention.

A few faces of rock stared with menace at the sea, the Guardians.  He set off towards those faces, towards the cliffs, without saying a word.

Most would stay at the observation point.  Only two guards followed, two guards and her.

Her presence, a warm welcoming feel, like a fire on a cold night, made Stan frown as he picked his way through the flowers across the steep, path.

Why couldn’t she stay here, a flower amongst other flowers? Continue reading

…And Then the Analogy Fell Flat


PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

“Just a few dollars more.  If I had a small raise, I would be able to catch up.”

Jack shook his head.

No, he couldn’t afford it.

He popped over to Orinoco and looked at his humongous wish list with a sigh.

This was getting him nowhere.

He tried to move to the news site, but ended up looking at the latest risqué photos of Sharon Shaiplee.  What he’d give to… Damn.


Trent scratches his head.

“How in the world am I going to fit the analogy about rising from the muck of everyday life to bloom into this story?”


Word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  This week’s prompt is here and uses a photo © David Stewart. Read more or join in by following the InLinkz “linky“.

The muse did not love me today.  I got zero.  So I tried to force a story using the idea of a lotus blossom, and all of the significance of it, as an analogy.  I still got nothing ;)

And yes, the Orinoco is a great river in South America, just like that other river that begins with an “A” ;)