Tag Archives: Gedichte

The Night Game by Jennie Boyes

The Night Game by Jennie Boyes.

This morning, I enjoyed reading this story, by Jennie Boyes.

The POV is that of a child, Fridel, who try’s to make sense of the events taking place in her village.

Fridel’s mother is suffering from depression from the loss of her son Bert and blames The Mare and other mystical spirits.

Fridel starts to suspect that witches are to blame and in her own way (you decide) takes action to rid the village of them and the Mare.

The narrative gripped me from the beginning and drew me into the naive thoughts of Fridel. It was clear to me, the reader, what was going on. However, the adults were unaware how their explanations of spirits and evil witches influenced Fridel.

You can read the story here: The Night Game

Dolphins are Guardian Angels

A 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers.

Hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

You can read the stories from other contributors, here.

Dolphins are Guardian Angels

I admired the parrot fish shoal dashing past, then wham! The impact dislodged my facemask; my flippers were clamped in the teeth of a shark. I struggled my feet free, readjusted my mask and mouthpiece, and swam to a coral buttress. I watched John climb into the boat ten metres above.
The excited bull shark circled and raced towards me. I was trapped.
I heard a screech of whistles and clicks, and a dolphin struck the shark’s underbelly. The pod harassed and chased the menace away.
My saviours escorted me to the surface, and to the safety of the boat.

Conquer Your Fears

Friday Fictioneers – rochellewisoff.com

Read more flash-fiction from Friday Fictioneers here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Ronda Del Boccio

Conquer Your Fears

John’s birthday surprise left her speechless. In shock, Lynda climbed into the balloon’s basket; her shoes caught on the step. Her mind was screaming for excuses. Why did he have to sell his motorbike?
Lynda screwed her eyes closed and gripped the rail as if fused to the metal. Sweat dripped over her brow, and champagne bubbles churned in her stomach.
The engines’ roar and the swaying movement made her legs tremble.
‘Look,’ shouted John.
She peeked and saw her Mum waving. She relaxed and thought, this is okay. The balloon juddered; she vomited her champagne and caviar over John.

Fear in the Woods

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle-Wisoff-Fields

For other stories CLICK HERE

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Fear in the Woods

‘Okay, you must stay together. Promise,’ said Maggie. ‘The pie’s in the oven.’
As a child, she loved playing in the woods, but Massie and Albert were little, at least they had Buster.
When the apple-pie was ready, she went to call for them.
‘Albert, Massie, come on in,’ she called walking into the woods. ‘Buster.’
She saw the dumped fridge and gave it a kick. Typical!
Massie shouted, ‘Hi Mum.’
Buster began barking on top of the fridge.
‘Where’s Albert?’ She pushed the dog aside and opened the door. ‘Albert!’
Massie’s lip trembled. ‘He stayed home on his computer.’

What Lasts Forever?

My apologies I missed last week – I seemed to have run out of ink.

This week’s Friday Fictioneers from Rochelle

Read more contributions with this link.

What Lasts Forever?

It was a dare; we ran naked along the beach.
Months later, the best man embarrassed us. Who told him?
You decorated and choose pictures for our home.
One day you said, “Nothing lasts forever.”
You left and disappeared.
I never liked your taste in art, and I was pleased to dispose of our differences.
But you were wrong.
When I close my eyes, I am with you under the moonlight; swimming.
I dream of us bobbing in the warm water; floating with promises for eternity.
Without your spirit, I flounder in this lonely depth of my dark despairing sea.

When I am Alone, I am Afraid

Post for Friday Fictioneers – go to the other stories using this link:

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple

WHEN I AM ALONE, I AM AFRAID.

I can’t remember when I first noticed the little bird, a wheatear. When the telephone rang it appeared at the window and when I hung up the handset, I would drop some seeds or crumbs outside.
A bond developed between us and mutual expectation. The bird became my companion, and I was its source of titbits. We were creatures of habit, and the little bird became a great comfort to me in my moments of deep anxiety.
The bird will migrate soon, what will I do?
I wished the calls would stop, or at least whoever it was, would speak.

When the Grim Reaper Calls

Friday Fictioneers more stories here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn Miller

When the Grim Reaper Calls.

I felt a headache and my vision blurred as blood dripped onto the desk.
My mind flew back in time and raced towards a barn, a place I don’t know.
Memories: mother, a dog, a swing, school, my navy days, Doreen, the children growing. A jumble of pictures, smiles and laughter, like a collage of fifty years flashing past.
Guilt crept up my spine with so much to repent and ask forgiveness for the way I treated my sick wife. Overindulgence with her insurance money.
What’s waiting in the barn? Is it Heaven or Hell?
Will Doreen be there?

 

 

Sherlock Holmes and the Time Lord

 

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

More 100 Word Stories from Friday Fictioneers, here.

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PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Sherlock Holmes and the Time Lord

‘So, it’s true.’ Watson wiped the condensation from the window. ‘The last cough of winter comes in May.’
‘The feasts of the Ice Saints.’ Holmes removed the needle from his arm.
‘One day,’ said Watson, ‘that opium will kill you, and I can’t save you.’
‘Ah Watson, I’m already dead.’ Holmes laughed. ‘Life is relative. Now, where is she?’ He closed his eyes. ‘Where! damn you woman, where?’
Watson sipped his Earl Grey and stared at the pale face of Holmes. He was delirious and mumbling on about a “Tardis” and “The Doctor” hidden beneath the Athabasca Glacier in Canada.

Author Interview – 20 Questions with James McEwan

 

I was invited by Lynne to take part in an 20 Question Interview.

You can read the full interview on her site Fictionophile

Please feel free to comment, if you enjoying reading my responses.

 

Born Free

Friday Fictioneers

Read more stories here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Born Free

After the virus, only the state sponsored selected elite could procreate, and placed under medical supervision to produce fully formed immune humans.
For us it was a crime.
I collapsed to my knees. Grace was in tears, her body shaking.
‘You’re pregnant?’ I whispered into her ear. She nodded.
‘My cousin said . . .’
‘Yes!’ I held her shoulders. ‘We must go.’
We knew about the family escapees hiding around the north lakes; hunters exterminated those captured on the spot.
That night we navigated our balloon in a northward storm and prayed for our future and unborn baby in the wilderness.