ANOTHER WEEK OF FRIDAY FICTIONEERS, THE 100 WORD FLASH FICTION CHALLENGE.
Important Note: The Linkz page is for FRIDAY FICTIONEERS STORIES AND POEMS ONLY!!! Last week I pulled two unrelated blog links.
Write a one hundred word story that has a beginning, middle and end. (No one will be ostracized for going over or under the word count.)
Make every word count.
- Copy your URL to the Linkz collection. You’ll find the tab following the photo prompt. It’s the little white box to the left with the blue froggy guy. Click on it and follow directions. This is the best way to get the most reads and comments.
- MAKE SURE YOUR LINK IS SPECIFIC TO YOUR FLASH FICTION. (Should you find that you’ve made an error you can delete by clicking the little red ‘x’ that should appear under your icon. Then re-enter your URL. (If there’s no red x email me at Runtshell@aol.com. I can delete the wrong link for you).
- Make note in your blog if you’d prefer not to have constructive criticism.
- REMINDER: This page is “FRIDAY FICTIONEERS CENTRAL” and is NOT the place to promote political or religious views. Also, you are responsible for the content of your story and policing comments on your blog. You have the right to delete any you consider offensive.
**Please exercise DISCRETION when commenting on a story! Be RESPECTFUL.**
Should someone have severe or hostile differences of opinion with another person it’s my hope that the involved parties would settle their disputes in private.
My story will follow the prompt for those who might be distracted by reading a story before writing their own . I enjoy your comments.
Genre: Literary Fiction
Word Count: 99
“C’mon, Natalie.” Brendon grabbed her helmet from the closet shelf and plopped it on her head. “Might be just what the doctor ordered.”
A hundred objections rushed to her lips. His inviting smile dispelled them all and she mounted his motorcycle’s passenger seat.
For the first time in months she felt free. Trees sped by. Lilacs scented the breeze. She didn’t even mind the back-jarring bumps or stomach-dropping dips in the road.
Hours later, exhausted but happy, Natalie eased back against a hospital pillow. Brendon beamed at their newborn son in her arms.
“Yep. Just what the doctor ordered.”