HAPPY NEW YEAR AND WELCOME TO FRIDAY FICTIONEERS!
May it be a good year, filled with prosperity, happiness and publication dreams fulfilled.
Henry David Thoreau said it best.
“It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.”
In 2014, as in 2013, writers are encouraged to be as innovative as possible with the prompt and 100 word constraints.
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.)
Make every word count.
- 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.
- ***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.
**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 follows the photo and link tool. I enjoy honest comments and welcome constructive criticism.
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
Like a frightened animal, she huddled in the darkest corner of an abandoned shack on the beach. I offered her refuge in my winter home in Bridgetown.
“The reverend promised us Paradise,” she whispered over lunch.
“We saw the bastard on the news. How did you escape?”
“I told the guard ‘Father’ wanted flowers for the meeting. I hid under bushes all day, ran all night and then stole a fishing boat. Floated for weeks.”
She licked her blistered lips.
“Scorcher today.” My husband burst onto the patio, pitcher in hand. “Kool-Aid anyone?”
“No, thank you.” She choked. “Not ever.”
The following link is a bit lengthy if you’re only in the mood for 100 word stories. But if you have some extra time and want to read a true survivor’s story: