paranormal

All posts tagged paranormal

1 September 2017

Published August 30, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bulltot

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Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

TOUR GUIDE AT ROOSEVELT ISLAND

            Edith studied the yellowed photograph of a young mother cradling a toddler with dark curls on her lap. She had arrived at Castle Garden from Poland only to be diagnosed with the dreaded disease.

            Surveying the overgrown, supposedly haunted ruins, Edith imagined her 19-year-old great-grandmother, stricken with smallpox and imprisoned behind the granite hospital walls.  

            “Left to die without her child. It must’ve been terrifying,” Edith whispered to the sobbing girl beside her. “But haunted? Nonsense.”

            “Iz es itst, grandoter?”

            Edith whipped around in time to see Great-Grandma Edith, pockmarked cheeks wet with tears, vanish like smoke through a keyhole.

 

CLICK

 

Note – The translation for the Yiddish is “Is it now, Granddaughter?”

23 June 2017

Published June 21, 2017 by rochellewisoff

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Our Mantra

The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit. 

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

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Genre: Speculatively Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

DESIGNATION

 

 Slow moving traffic and gray skies contributed to Ted’s equally gray mood. The rhythmic thump and swish of windshield wipers lulled him.

            He had almost drifted off when banging on his passenger-side window startled him. Leaning over, he opened the door.

            “Mahalo, hoaloha. I must get back to my sheep near the harbor.”

            “Friday Harbor?” Ted stared at the stranger’s crescent-shaped eyes and old fashion clothing. “Where’re you from?”

            “Hawaii, but I work for Fort Cowitz.”

            “They shut down in 1869. What’s your name?”

            “Poalima. ‘Friday’ in English.”

            A horn’s blast made Ted jump and the stranger vanished like steam.  

*

*

*

Mahalo, hoaloha – thank you, friend.

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8 February 2013

Published February 6, 2013 by rochellewisoff

HEY KIDS, WHAT TIME IS IT?  IT’S FRIDAY FICTIONEERS TIME! 

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.  
  • 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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copyright-Rich Voza

copyright-Rich Voza


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**Genre: Speculative Fiction**

Word Count: 135

A friend who couldn’t find a use for his 35 extra words generously loaned them to me. Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t allow myself to be coerced into breaking my own rules. No apologies.

FLIGHT STATUS

            “Flight delayed.” Amelia snarled and closed the US Airways website. “Damn business trips!”

            Memories of their argument right before Chase left gnawed at her. She regretted her spiteful words.

            “I hate your job!”

            “You like the money.”

            “You’re never home. Your daughters don’t even know their father.”

            “Next time, babe, you and the girls are coming with me.”

            “What if—?”

            “‘What if’ never happens.” He gathered her into his arms. “Flying’s safer than driving on the freeway.”

            Five hours ago he’d texted from Phoenix. “Just a little turbulence. Nothing to worry about.”

            “Mommy?” Four-year-old Katy tiptoed into the room. “Daddy sat on my bed.”

            “It was only a dream, Kitten.”

            “No it wasn’t. He talked to me!”

            “What’d he say?”

            “He’s sorry he can’t come home.” 

            Her phone chimed. Message from Chase.

            “Dearest Amelia…” 

.

.

.

 

Chase's last message

Jet Crash with houses.

 

BASH

TFOA

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

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