WELCOME TO FRIDAY FICTIONEERS!
Seize the opportunity to free your muse and allow her take you on a magic carpet ride.
Henry David Thoreau said it best.
“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.”
THE CHALLENGE:
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.)
THE KEY:
MAKE. EVERY. WORD. COUNT.
THE RULES:
- 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.
- 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.
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TO THOSE WRITING HISTORICAL FICTION (MYSELF INCLUDED): While WIKIPEDIA is usually a decent source of information, it’s not always reliable one. As a rule, I use it as a jumping off point to other research threads. It’s a good rule of thumb to use more than one source. I speak from experience when I say that a simple 100 word story can bring serious repercussions.
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- ***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.
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😉
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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.
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My story follows the photo and link tool. I enjoy honest comments and welcome constructive criticism. 
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 99
REALITY TV
“I wish my folks were like the Williamses’,” said Cathy. She poked at her ice cream soda with her straw and breathed in the scent of Woolworths’ French fries.
“Aw, they’re just TV phonies.” Doug snickered.
“Look. It’s her!”
At the other end of the counter the perfect mother in starched cotton, pearls and pillbox hat ordered a Coke. With heart-pounding awe, Cathy grabbed her napkin and slipped off her stool.
“Mrs. Williams, I think you’re swell. Could I please have your autograph?”
The actress puffed her cigarette, flashed a red-lipsticked smile and said, “Get lost, ya little brat.”
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple 