NOW’S THE TIME TO MAKE THINGS WRITE WITH FRIDAY FICTIONEERS! 

***Happy Birthday to Renee Homan Heath -April 3rd. ***

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).
• • 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.

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  From Scott Vanatter with permission-Copyright- Indira

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This week marks my 50th Friday Fictioneers’ story. I hope you don’t think me melodramatic when I say that it’s been a life-changing experience. I certainly didn’t expect to become the bus driver when I asked Madison how to join. I’ve made some great friends since last April. Thanks to all of you! 

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 99

FAMILY TREE

            “‘And they lived happily ever after.’” Leah shut the storybook.

            Shifra’s raisin-brown eyes, round as bottle caps, sparkled. “Bubbie? Did you love Grandpa at first sight?”

            “He was only eight when we met. Mama took him in…hid him from the khappers, bad men who snatched little Jewish boys from their homes and made them serve twenty-five years in the Czar’s army.”

            “Did she hide him in the closet?”

            “No she was smart, my Mama.”

            “He was like your brother, right?”

            Leah pointed to a tintype on the table of two little bonneted girls and grinned. “More like my sister.” 

Nu? Should you want to read more on the subject click here.