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.
Twirling in front of the mirror, Hattie admired her reflection. Her wedding dress, complete with a satin train, made her feel like a fairytale princess. The heart-shaped diamond on her left hand sparkled. The day James presented it to her everyone in the restaurant applauded. How could she refuse?
Reluctantly, Hattie slipped off the gown. Had she made the right decision? Marriage was a huge commitment.
She took off the ring and laid it beside a handwritten note that read,
“Dear James,
“By the time you read this, David and I will be on our honeymoon.
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.
Last night was my first time on the dance floor since my husband died five years ago. And this happens. I’m not sure which aches more, my fractured ankle or my pride. Chuck must think I’m a klutz.
I wait for the hydrocodone to kick in.
Why’d I let my pushy sister talk me into a blind date?
“I’m not ready,” I’d insisted.
“If not now—when?”
My phone rings.
Chuck’s delicious voice caresses my ear. “Sorry about my overgrown clodhoppers. I’d like to make it up to you over dinner. May I come over?”
Perhaps I’m ready after all.
***
Happily the above story is pure fiction. 😀 He’s very much alive, for which I’m grateful! Our friends and family gave us 6 months. Happy 49th Anniversary to my first husband, Jan Wayne Fields.
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.
This week marks my 8th anniversary as Friday Fictioneers facilitator and my 5th anniversary as a retired sign maker/cake decorator. So I’m taking the liberty of sharing a twofer.
Genre: Hysterical Faction
Word Count: 100
HONCHO DORI
My coworker and best friend was fired for saying, of all things, “Hunky Dory.” Her flippant reply to my “How’s your day going?” at her register. I kid you not. The charge was “sarcasm to a customer and, therefore, misconduct.” Seriously?
The company’s plan to purge the “old folks” put a target on my back, too.
At an emotional low I joined Friday Fictioneers. I tried it. I loved it. By October 24, I inherited the blog challenge.
Eight years later, my friend’s victorious lawsuit is a story we retell with glee. Friday Fictioneers? Yep, I’m still steering the bus.
It’s still hunky dory with us.
YEE-HAW!!!
I ran out words to tell you my friend was fired March 7, 2012 and I joined Friday Fictioneers a month later on April 12.
****
Now for the second go around as promised. 😉 I posted this 24 October 2012, after inheriting Friday Fictioneers from creator Madison Woods. This was the only time I didn’t title my post with the date. I was told by a fictioneer that it was too confusing for me to post my title because it gave the impression that my title was part of the prompt. I complied and never saw her again. Go figure. There are some fictioneers who stuck with me, even though they were here before me. You know who you are. 😉 If I list them I’m bound to leave someone out. At any rate here’s my first story as facilitator. Same photo prompt.
Genre: Realistic Fiction
Word Count: 100
OF SIGHT AND SOUND
A stunning contradiction of cropped black hair, bronzed skin and sea foam blue eyes, Aggie McKewen’s face reflected her Inuit and Scottish parentage.
Keith, who worked at his uncle’s café in Seward County, Alaska, longed to speak to her but didn’t know sign language and she was fencepost deaf. Every Saturday he served her grilled salmon in shy silence.
After six weeks of night classes he felt ready to declare himself and asked her out.
With a voiceless giggle she snatched his pen and order pad. There she wrote, “I’d love to but why did you call me a tampon?”
A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend. How you use the prompt is up to you. Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like. Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise. If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in Sammi’s comment section.
Although this isn’t a true story, per se, it’s a reality for too many.
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.
The following is the PHOTO PROMPT. Express permission is given for the purpose of Friday Fictioneers only. It is proper etiquette to give credit to the photographer/contributor. Thank you.
Eighteen-year-old Tammy set the cake on the table. “Seventy-five candles, Grammy.”
Phoebe blew with all her might. “Wish James was here to celebrate with us.” Winded, she leaned back and shut her eyes. “We met in 1893. I was your age.
***
“May I sit here, Miss?”
Phoebe gazed into his startling blue eyes. “Certainly.”
“Think this contraption is safe?”
From their car at the top of the observation wheel, an unheard of 264 feet, she took in the whole fair. Heart pounding, she grasped his hand. He squeezed hers.
***
Tammy squeezed Phoebe’s stiff hand. “Give Gramps a kiss for me.”
For a little more about the Ferris Wheel CLICK HERE
The original Ferris Wheel at the Chicago Worlds Fair in 1893
This is an absolute first for me! I’ve never posted a second Friday Fictioneers story. However, after reading Kent Bonham’s STOOD UP? and the ensuing comments between readers and author, it seemed to cry out for the other side of the story. Maybe it’s all those plummy Hallmark channel holiday movies, but here’s my take.
Genre: Romantic Fiction
Word Count: 100
BLIND DATE?
John came into the café at least twice a week. Julie looked forward to his wit and comfortable repartee.
He checked his watch for the fifth time. The disappointment in his eyes made Julie ache as she poured his water.
“Perhaps she got hung up in traffic.”
“Nah. Stood up again.”
Maybe there was something she could do after all—for both of them. Heart pounding, Julie made an excuse about her shift ending and dashed to the back room to change.
John’s mouth dropped when she returned and squeezed his hand. “Sorry, I’m late. I had to work.”
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.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple 