Tag Archives: Friday Fictioneers

With Time and Quiet….

photo-15

Copyright –Douglas M. MacIlroy

“Apple was founded in a garage.”

She frowned.  Bits of metal and paper mâché were scattered haphazardly around.  There were piles of junk thrown hither and yon.  The only technology, his laptop, was open to a romantic poetry blog.

“You are no Steve Jobs, let me tell you!”  She shook her head.  “I’m leaving.”

He shrugged and continued to putter.

Three years later she was shaking her head at his image again.  This time it wasn’t in person, it was on the cover of a magazine. Gavin had just been awarded Time’s “Person of the Year” for his ground-breaking invention.

***

Word count = 100

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

***

This can be read as a continuation of Rochelle’s story….

Advertisements

Passing of a Legend

rr-tracks-at-harpers-ferryc

PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn M. Miller

A storm rose over the bluff, thunder rolling across the valley.  A meteor raced down the track.

When it reached me, it was naught but a gust of wind and smoke.

A human scarecrow emerged from the steam.  Ragged clothes draped the ruined frame.

“Damn,” he said.  “I thought I would catch it and get out of this two-bit town.  Some tumble I took, though.  Saw those steel wheels a-comin’ at me and thought I was done-fer.”

“Harry?” The man seemed surprised I knew him.

“Yeah?”

“You died 85 years ago.  Go home.”

So ended the legend of Sleepy Junction.

***

Word count = 100

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

*** Continue reading

The Battle for the Garage

nick-allen-from-sandra-c

PHOTO PROMPT © Nick Allen

Oh, what an awful sight
When the lawnmower and chainsaw
Got into a fight

The oilcans stood in a row
Making slow turns as the fight
Moved to-and-fro

The snowblower looked away
Knowing the winner would
Challenge him some day

The spade whispered to the hoe
That what caused this ruckus
He just didn’t know

The rake put a dollar on a bet
That the lawnmower would survive
And win this fight yet

Just when it seemed it would never end
That the fight must go on all of the night
A human stepped in
And turned on the light

***

Word count = 100

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

(Doesn’t it look like those oil cans are watching something?)

Ripples in Time

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Memories of the four-year-old became tangled within months of being made.  Playing in a mountain stream in Vermont, walking up a boardwalk in New Hampshire and leaving sneakers on a rocky beach in Maine soon became, “I lost a shoe playing in The Flume.”

Growing up next to the posterchild of pollution, Lake Erie, the clear streams and unspoiled wilderness, miles of forest, had soaked into the child’s psyche.  This was the way nature intended.

Fifty years later, the former vacationland now home, the events are more dictated by logic than memory, but that trip across the northeast still resonate.

*** Continue reading

You Can’t Go Home

under-bridge

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The authorities cleaned it up, removing all of the people.  No homeless ever lived in their town.  Nope.  Now the kids owned the place, riding their dirt bikes and shooting beer bottles in the stream.  Good wholesome, American pastimes.

It had been many years since I had been back.  I found the old stones and put them into place.  It was silly, really.  The kids would just knock them down again, perhaps break them up this time.

All signs of the community were erased.

I heard the rev of an engine and said my last goodbyes to Mom and Dad.

***

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“.

Twiddling

js-brand-tree

PHOTO PROMPT © J.S. Brand

Twiddling.  That’s what Pops called it.  Eyes and fingers all a twitching.  Always just sitting there, but never just sitting.  Running a thousand miles an hour without moving.

Brian done come home from the war a changed man.  Everybody saw it.  Debby packed up and headed home on day one.  On day two Brian was back home with Pops.

Didn’t work.  Nuttin.  Just sat there, twitching.  Twiddling.

Until Pops said he was cutting down the old Sycamore.

Brian was up all night, makeshift spots on the tree, Pops’ wood-working tools in hand.  Nobody knew what to make of it.

Twiddling.

***

Word count = 100

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

***

I saw implements of war in the carving – helmet, stone battle axes from different cultures, etc.  I thought about the artistry of making the carving.  But I ran out of words before I could get it all in there.  Oh well, that’s what Friday Fictioneers is about ;)

A Child Named “Justice”

chess-eyes

PHOTO PROMPT © Jeff Arnold

“They say bad things happen around her.”

Will watched the child’s innocent play.  Perfect.

“Her parents died when she was very young.”

She hid her scars well.  Good.

“She’s been in and out of foster homes.  They say bad…”

“I’m not superstitious.  The paperwork should be set.  Thank you.”

Back home, Will was putting the finishing touches on the cameras when a weight hit him.

He spun.

Nothing.  His imagination.

The chessboard flipped and the girl was there.

Her eyes glowed.

In a woman’s voice she said, “Will, Justice has arrived!”

It was a terrible accident, but the girl survived.

***

Sorry for double dipping this week.  When I wrote the first story, I was under the influence of Rochelle’s sweet scene.  Later, I looked at that eye and saw something totally different….

***

Word count = 100

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

 

Check, And Mate

chess-eyes

PHOTO PROMPT © Jeff Arnold

Cheryl led me into her father’s sitting room then melted into the background.

I hated playing chess with Mr. West.  He was a surly man who beat me every time.  I don’t know why I bothered.

Cheryl had asked me to play as an act of kindness to an invalid, though her father didn’t want for company. The invitation took me by surprise.  I didn’t know Cheryl, having only seen her from a distance.

As usual, Cheryl appeared and sat on the floor once the game started.

Studying the board, I caught Cheryl’s eye.

I suddenly understood why I came.

***

Word count = 100

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

 

Waiting for the Right Wind

jill-f

PHOTO PROMPT © Jilly Funell

What a day!

Liz walked down to the park, hoping that moving would help relieve some of the stress.

Freaking Mr. Nesbit must think she could work 20 hours a day!  And Ms. Effin-Jones was no better.

Her cell rang so she sat in the first bench available, one looking at that ugly tower.

More good news.  The repair bill would be more than two weeks take home.  Great!

She sat back and took in her environment.

She felt as rooted to the city as that massive building.  What she would give to be able to spread her sails and leave!

**

Word count = 100

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