WELCOME TO FRIDAY FICTIONEERS.
As always, writers are encouraged to be as innovative as possible with the prompt and 100 word constraints.
Henry David Thoreau said it best.
“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.”
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.
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**Please exercise DISCRETION when commenting on a story! Be RESPECTFUL.**
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Special thanks to those who have contributed photos. I’m building up quite a library. And on that note, I have a request. Please when emailing your jpgs (some have sent more than four at once) put your name on it somehow. I’m not always the most organized nor do I have the best memory. So far I think all are named and accounted for. Thanks. Don’t stop sending them.
Genre: Literary Fiction
Word Count: 100
IN THE BALANCE
Cold metal ladder-rungs dug into Melinda’s bare feet. She shivered as icy wind tugged at her robe.
Like jetsam in a whirlpool, disjointed images swirled through her mind; anniversary flowers delivered in the morning followed by somber uniformed officers in the afternoon bearing unthinkable news. Her husband, Grant, dead—a sniper’s bullet.
No one left to live for; she stepped onto the roof and studied the rock-strewn ground below. Breath held, she inched toward the edge.
Suddenly, her unborn child kicked for the first time.
Melinda shrank back.
Grant’s voice whispered on the wind, “Take good care of our son.”