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
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple sends this week’s 100 word writing challenge. Click on the link for other stories
Dangerous Dating Game
‘Yes, the market.’ She giggled on the telephone. ‘We can meet for a coffee and Pani Popo.’
I hid behind the hats; she looked older than on eHarmony.
Why has she brought friends along or are they her daughters?
This is awkward as I look nothing like my Internet profile, and I don’t like groups.
We agreed on an afternoon alone.
People say I am shy and lack self-esteem around women – acting strange.
Once I was taunted on a date – you are a freak!
In anger, I released the padlocks and threw her off the boat; she drowned.
What a pity.
Posted in Blog, Friday Fictioneers
Tagged abuse, Awkward Dates, Crime, Dating, Flash Fiction, Great writing, Internet Dating, Kurzgeschichte, Relationships, Short Stories, Trusts on Dates, Writing
I trust you are all well – and have a plan to get through the crisis sweeping across our world.
Take care out there and; WYH.
Here is my contribution for Friday Fictioneers based on the photograph by Jeff Arnold
You can read other stories with this link; Friday Fictioneers
The Last Lineage
The publisher returned her novel of a Sci–Fi Trilogy. They asked Sabrina to write an improved leader into book two.
She slumped back in her chair, sipped wine and watched her ancient typewriter rattle out the final paragraph.
“From the single, surviving safety pod a small group stumbled and stared up at the brilliant clear sky. They felt humble to be alive after the one-hundred-year horror that had ravaged life on the planet. However, unknown to them, future anthropology will record their emergence as a new species; Homo-sapiens, the Teflon-man.”
Sabrina smiled, because she never could type or write.
Read more stories here.
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz
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.
Posted in Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Only 100 Words
Tagged Apocalyptic virus, controlled procreation, dystopia, fertility loss, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Gedichte, Great writing, Kurzgeschichte, Observational, Short Story, Writing
This week I was inspired by Stephen King’s novel Misery.
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Friday Fictioneers
Click here for more stories in this group
Photo by Naama-Yehuda
Constant Itching is Misery.
My dermatitis was getting worse; a life of misery.
Martha, my treatment nurse, suggested an allergy to soap or detergent.
But which one?
‘I’ve read your book,’ she said.
She used solid ice cream to cool my legs – it was heaven.
‘Perhaps itching powder,’ she stated, and patted my skin dry.
She spread a foul-smelling ointment onto my chest.
‘That makes it worse. It stings!’
‘Painful,’ she said. ‘You mean like Elaine.’
‘Elaine! She is not real, it’s just a story!’
‘Maybe she is the reason for your rash.’ Martha rubbed in the gel. ‘Poor Elaine.’
‘Please stop.’ I screamed.
Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisof-Fields
More Stories Found Here
PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll
Meet me by the Amaryllis
Julie called and told me to meet in the Biosphere by the amaryllis flowers.
Don’t be late, her excitement was infectious. I suspected, she had great news from the fertility clinic.
I booked a table at Antonio’s for later.
Emergency vehicles blocked 5th Avenue and because of the long detour I was late.
Where was she?
The flowers were beautiful – I wondered if they would miss one for Julie’s hair.
I could say it had fallen onto the floor.
It’s not like Julie to be late, I checked my iPhone.
I read the news; three dead on 5th Avenue.
Posted in Friday Fictioneers, Only 100 Words
Tagged Amaryllis, Biosphere, Biosphere Living on Mars, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Gedichte, Great writing, Kurzgeschichte, Life in Eden, Romantic, save the planet, Short Stories, Short Story, Tragedy, Writing
Rochelle Wisoff- Fields – Addicted to Purple
Friday Fictioneers – Additional Stories
PHOTO PROMPT © Mikhael Sublett
Evidence of Generations Lost
Grandfather died from the RAF bombing in Duisburg.
From his will, we owned the Einfamilienhaus; a ruinous shell in a wild garden.
We were delighted and began the renovation work with enthusiastic zest.
We found a painting in a secret room behind a wall. Imagine our good fortune.
“It’s a masterpiece,” the Kunthaus said. “Priceless and magnificent. Looted!”
And the skeletons?
Their descendants claimed the art and wanted retribution.
Were we to pay the price for our grandfather’s past?
Later, we discovered he had hidden and saved those poor people from transportation.
Why does thirst for revenge percolate through generations?
New post on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
Friday Fictioneers – New Stories
PHOTO PROMPT © C.E. Ayr
Carpe Diem, Quam Minimum Credula Postero
The arrow points towards the airport.
I have not slept for days since my thoughts tumbled and turned as they spun my problem back at me rejecting all solutions.
I’ve come around to a decision.
Tomorrow, they will not welcome me at the arrivals lounge.
Sod them. I will attend my ex-wife’s funeral.
We had lived as if on a roundabout with centrifugal forces pulling our emotions apart. Our love burning at our heels.
We chased after different dreams but promised we would be together again.
We lost; time won.
One day, if and only are the saddest of words.
Posted in Friday Fictioneers
Tagged carpe diem, Dreams, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Great writing, Kurzgeschichte, lost chance, Lost love, regrets, Relationships, six word story. flash fiction. Great writing.
Friday Fictioneers – Read other stories here.
Hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll
Piano for Sale.
‘It’s in the cellar. Each flat has a storage cage.’
She moved the boxes and we squeezed past towards the piano.
Our noses touched. I felt her heat; she brushed against me to open the lid.
‘You should get it tuned.’
As I played “Liebestruam”, I felt her breath in my ear.
‘You play so perfectly.’
She wrapped herself onto me, her chin on my shoulder.
I played on; my knees quavered, my heart in tremolo and I ached for her.
Poco a poco, our breathing accelerando.
‘You must stay.’
We were strangers, in love with music.
Ci baciamo adagio.
(We kiss slowly)
Posted in Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers
Tagged Dichtung, Drabble, Dreams, Friday Fictioneers, Great writing, Kurzgeschichte, Liebestruam, Lost love, music lovers, Piano, Psychological, romance, Romantic