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 a few words over the 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. (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).
- While our name implies “fiction only” it’s perfectly Kosher to write a non-fiction piece as long as it meets the challenge of being a complete story in 100 words.
- ***PLEASE MAKE NOTE IN YOUR BLOG IF YOU PREFER NOT TO RECEIVE CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM.***
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This week’s photo was taken inside Union Station in Washington DC. So from there I boarded the train to my hometown of Kansas City, Missouri. Our Union Station opened its doors with a grand celebration 31 October 1914. Preserved today as a museum, it was the hub of departure and reunion through the two great wars to end all wars.
Perhaps one such departure went like this:
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
WE OWE GOD A DEATH
“Is this your thanks for a career with the Kansas City Star?”
“Tis a great life, Uncle Ty. Thanks to you I can tell chianti from claret, tell mayors to go to Hell and slap police commissioners on the back.”
Tyler Hemingway’s cheeks blazed. His voice echoed off Union Station’s high ceiling and roared in his own ears. “Ernie, this is no time for jest. I made your father a promise. What if you’re killed?”
“Every man’s life ends the same way.” Ernie’s keen, dark eyes flashed. “It’s only how he lived or died that distinguishes one man from another.”
Below is a young Ernest Hemingway months after he left Kansas City in 1918.
To learn more about Alfred Tyler Hemingway click here.