Loss

All posts tagged Loss

16 January 2015

Published January 14, 2015 by rochellewisoff

Flowers from the Hill Thoreau

Erie CanalRemember the goal is to write a COMPLETE story. BEGINNING, MIDDLE AND END. 

FF copyright banner finalThe next photo is the PROMPT. What speaks to you? Tell us in a hundred words or less. 

*Note: To share a photo you think would make a good prompt please send it to this email address: runtshell@gmail.com. Thank you*

My story follows the prompt and the blue inLinkz frog. I enjoy honest comments. 😉

PHOTO PROMPT - Copyright - Jan Wayne Fields

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields



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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

WORDS OF WISDOM

            “I pressed your clothes,” said Mary. “Mind Dad and look after your brother whilst I’m in hospital.”   

            “Thanks, Mum.” Paul buttoned his shirt. “Deese are me bezzies.” 

            “Stop it. I’ve taught you better, now haven’t I?”

            “Not half.” He quipped in falsetto. “The Queen’s English. Ever so posh.” 

            She looked as if she wanted to scold him more. Instead, she embraced him and said, “If I don’t come back…”

            Emptiness flooded the boy.

            “Of course you’re coming back. Who’ll cook for us if you don’t?”

            “There will be an answer.” Mary McCartney kissed her son and whispered, “Let it be.”    
        

*

Want more?   

8 August 2014

Published August 6, 2014 by rochellewisoff

Deer Banner FF

 

Blue Ceiling FF

 

FF copyright banner final

The next photo is the PROMPT. What does it say to you? Step outside your boundaries and let your imagination take wing! 

My story follows the blue inLinkz buddy that Ali calls Bracken. 

Björn 6

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright-Björn Rudberg

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100

WHEN THE NEED ARISES

            It starts with a certain look, and you know it’s over. That’s how it is with Annie and me.

            Without saying a word, she tells me what I don’t want to hear. We’ve both suffered too long and she needs to be free.

            As we hike to our favorite mountain spot to say goodbye I envision life without her.

            “Wish you didn’t have to go, Annie.”

            She wags her tail, and feebly licks my hand. I caress her head, press the muzzle of my pistol against it and pull the trigger.

            Whoever said men don’t cry was full of shit.      

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5 July 2013

Published July 3, 2013 by rochellewisoff

WELCOME TO FRIDAY FICTIONEERS. 

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.”

********

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 follows the photo and link tool. I enjoy comments and relish constructive criticism. 😀
  • Shalom,

              Rochelle

    • Copyright - David Stewart

      Copyright – David Stewart

      Special thanks to those who have contributed photos. I’m building up quite a library. And on that note, I have a request. Please when emailing your jpgs (some have sent more than four at once) put your name on it somehow. I’m not always the most organized nor do I have the best memory. So far I think all are named and accounted for. Thanks. Don’t stop sending them. 

       

get the InLinkz code

Genre: Literary Fiction

Word Count: 100

IN THE BALANCE

            Cold metal ladder-rungs dug into Melinda’s bare feet. She shivered as icy wind tugged at her robe.

            Like jetsam in a whirlpool, disjointed images swirled through her mind; anniversary flowers delivered in the morning followed by somber uniformed officers in the afternoon bearing unthinkable news. Her husband, Grant, dead—a sniper’s bullet.

            No one left to live for; she stepped onto the roof and studied the rock-strewn ground below. Breath held, she inched toward the edge.

            Suddenly, her unborn child kicked for the first time.

            Melinda shrank back.

            Grant’s voice whispered on the wind, “Take good care of our son.”  

6 June 2013

Published June 5, 2013 by rochellewisoff

WELCOME TO FRIDAY FICTIONEERS. 

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.”

********

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.

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  • ***************

    :) My story will follow the prompt for those who might be distracted by reading a story before writing their own . I enjoy your comments. :)

  • OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

    Copyright – EL Appleby

    • To post the prompt to your page simply right click on the picture and then left click “Save image as…” This will download it to your computer. Then paste it into your blog page. Please respect the copyright and use it only for Friday Fictioneers purposes. Any other usage requires permission from the photographer. Thank you. 

 




get the InLinkz code

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 98

FATHER’S DAY

            Dad was my first hero. Nobody surpassed him when it came to making up silly stories and songs. His lap was my throne.  

            After cancer took Mom, he deteriorated into a frail, lonely old man who depended on our daily phone chats.

            “You didn’t call.”

            “The kids were nuts this morning.”

            “Your line was busy.”

            “Ruth called.”  

            “You don’t care.”

            “I’ll be by this afternoon, Dad.”  

            Hours later, I found him lying on the sofa, mouth agape and eyes half-open. Stunned and filled with regret, I dialed 911.  

            Thirty years later, I still long to hear his voice.

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