WELCOME TO FRIDAY FICTIONEERS!
Seize the opportunity to free your muse and allow her take you on a magic carpet ride.
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 a few words over the 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.
- 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.
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- ***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.
- Shalom,
Rochelle
Genre: Historical Fiction
Word Count: 100
JUMPING FLEA
“Better to harvest the sugarcane fields in Hawaii than starve in Madeira,” João Fernandes told his reluctant wife.
During the monotonous, sometimes perilous, four months at sea, he entertained his fellow immigrants on the braguinha.
Enamored with the new music form and João’s lively style, the Hawaiians treated him and his little guitar like royalty. Even Queen Lili’uokalani requested private evening concerts.
One lonely night, homesick for her mountains, Senhora Fernandes waited up for him.
When he greeted her with, “Behold the queen’s favorite musician!” she seized his ukulele and smashed it to pieces over his head.
“Behold your instrument!”
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Just for fun: