LOOKING FOR FRIDAY FICTIONEERS? YOU FOUND US!

I dare you to write more than you see with your eyes. I double dog dare you!

******

March Birthdays Among Us (That I know about)

Bill “Zed Man” Webb – March 1

Janet “Sustainabilitea” Webb – March 15

If there are more out there let me know. 

******

THE CHALLENGE:

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.)

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 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).Thanks to Blogspot bloggers for disabling their  CAPTCHAs. (Example below)
•  
• 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. 

Like us on Facebook

get the InLinkz code

Genre:-Autobiography

Word Count – 100

END OF AN ERA, SEPTEMBER 24, 1960

            Just the right balance of tin foil on rabbit ears chased away the ghosts and the black and white Zenith’s fifteen- inch picture wouldn’t flip during my favorite show.

            “Hey, kids. What time is it?”  

            “It’s Howdy Doody time!”

            Mute clown Clarabell chased Buffalo Bob with a seltzer bottle. Antics of the puppet population of Doodyville delighted me.

            One horrible Saturday Howdy said, “There’s no more show. It’s time to go.”  

            Then Clarabell spoke for the first time.

            “Goodbye, kids.”

            I sobbed, inconsolable, crushed by my first real loss in seven years. Even now the memory brings me to tears.

“Epilogue”