EIRONEIA

Published October 11, 2012 by rochellewisoff

As I post my latest Friday Fictioneer’s story it’s Friday Eve. That’s Thursday in some parts of the world. For other stories from our growing global community click here. You’ll find a wealth of one hundred word stories inspired by this single photograph from Jan Morrill.

Summer 1969, an American sailor stationed in Greece, I went on leave to Santorini.

In Pyrgos, I met sable-eyed Melina.

We drank each other. Her fragrant breasts welcomed me home.

“Marry me,” I whispered.

“I can’t.”

After that I never saw her again.

Summer 2010, I returned to Pyrgos.

On the street I stopped a silver-haired woman. “Melina Dimitri? Do you know her?”

“Why?”

“I love her.”

“Impossible! She was my great-grandmother. Died in childbirth in 1846. Here she is with my great-grandfather.”

When the woman flipped out a daguerreotype I gasped at the youthful images of Melina and…me.

THE GIRL MOST LIKELY

Published October 5, 2012 by rochellewisoff

This week’s Friday Fictioneers picture is from Raina Ng. It looks like a nice place to come home to. So if you’re looking for gut wrenching and thought provoking look to my friend Doug MacIlroy. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

Coffee and baking cookie aromas filled Gail’s kitchen. She wiped dust from a dog-eared yearbook, set it on the table and smiled at her high school chum. “So glad we found each other.”

“We were darling, weren’t we?” Brenda flipped through the faded pages. “You’ve done well for yourself, Miss Homecoming Queen. Nice home. Handsome husband.”

“Thirty-seven years next month.”

“Amazing.” Brenda pointed to a picture of a moon-faced boy with horn-rimmed glasses and buck teeth. “Hey remember him? What a geek! Wonder what ever happened to the little twerp.”

“I married him.”

THE CHAIRMAN’S SONG

Published September 28, 2012 by rochellewisoff

The lovely picture for Friday Fictioneers this week is from talented writer Sandra Crook. Here’s my offering for this week. Also, it would please this aspiring novelist if you’d also read my previous post. Comments welcome.

Once a month twelve-year-old, American born Su-Yin spent the day with her grandmother. Before each time she groaned and protested.

“Nai-Nai doesn’t have a computer or even a TV.”

“Or one of these.” Mom snatched her daughter’s iPod.

“Communist!”

Flushed, Mom murmured something in Chinese the girl didn’t understand.

Later, Su-Yin pouted in Nai-Nai’s garden and stirred her vegetable rice with chopsticks while she waited for her monthly portion of poetry and boredom.

Instead of ancient verse, Nai-Nai whispered, “When I was your age I watched communists behead my father and murder my brother by a thousand cuts.”