WELCOME TO FRIDAY FICTIONEERS.
This is NOT the prompt! This is Friday Fictioneers creator Madison Woods on her wedding day, Sunday, September 22. A hearty congratulations to the happy couple.
Now back to our regularly scheduled program. 😉
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.***
- 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.
- Like us on Facebook
- My story follows the photo and link tool. I enjoy honest comments and welcome constructive criticism.
Genre: Literary Fiction
Word Count: 99
“You’ll see, dear, in the end you’re all better off without me. I can’t…” Marie stopped typing and swallowed four sleeping pills.
“Mommy, whatcha writing?” Her seven-year-old son climbed onto her lap. “Can I read it?”
“No!” She minimized the document screen. “Go back to bed.”
“Uh-uh. I’m scared. I dreamed they put you in a big box and buried it. Daddy cried.”
“It was just a bad dream.”
“…you won’t die.”
“You pathetic fool,” whispered the voices. “Just do it!”
“I can’t.” She swept the bottle beside the keyboard into the wastebasket. “I promise.”