Tag Archives: Humour

Conceited Celebrity

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Friday Fictioneers

PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

Conceited Celebrity

I asked; they won’t open the doors until he arrives.
Until then, everyone must queue.

That’s the burden of being famous and popular;
People arrive extra early to be certain of a seat.

In this rain why don’t they let people in; they’ll catch a chill or worse.

Worse?

Yes, they’ll get frustrated, agitated and the atmosphere during the event will turn hostile. Such shame, making people wait in the rain when they could be warm and cosy inside.

Yet, nobody recognises me in this red cap.

I think you should.

Should?

Yes! tell them you are here.

Advertisements

A Wonderful World of Plants

Friday Fictioneers

PHOTO PROMPT © Penny Gadd

A Wonderful World of Plants

A woman in green came to our school; she told us about a wonderful world where dreams came true. She believed how plants could care for us; they were special.
‘Take this moon rock,’ she said. ‘Put it in a jar and keep it in the dark overnight.’
Everyone in our street had one.
It seemed miraculous, the speed it grew, up and over the kitchen walls. No one knew what it was. The cats were first to vanish then, Bertie, our dog.
Then one day!
‘Good morning,’ the plant said, trailing a tentacle around my neck. ‘I’m so hungry.’

My Grandmother’s Bucket List

Friday Fictioneers – The Gang

PHOTO PROMPT © Linda Kreger

My Grandmother’s Bucket List

She sky-dived, and landing she broke her ankles. The family came to help.
She would race across the Sahara; a push but worth a try. Then she’d climb Kilimanjaro; her second option since her doctor suggested the cold on Everest would aggravate her arthritis.
What does he know?
Her colostomy bag will float as she swims the English Channel. A trek along the Great Wall of China, a canoe up the Amazon and visits to the Taj Mahal and Machu Picchu.
Her bucket list was growing.
If only the gang could navigate the way out of the care home carpark.

Beryl my Zombie Girlfriend

Friday Fictioneers.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Beryl my Zombie Girlfriend.

Meet me in the scary café, she had said. Her favourite place.
I was on my second, deep black death coffee, it was delicious and tasted like reconstituted tar. Where was she?
Yea, what a fun place.
Try the putrid burgers, the dried blood is to die for, she had said. Don’t mind the wiggly maggots, they taste sweet with the  sauce.
Where is she?
People are staring, I fill with a desire to hug them, and stroke their soft necks.
My new overwhelming compulsive urge.
Beryl promised to teach me.
Being alive and dead is awesome, she had said.

Free Ebooks – Short Stories Adventure and All.

An opportunity to read my short story books, they are free on Amazon this week.

Author Page Amazon.

Let me know what you think, which was the best of the bunch?

I am working on a new anthology – title undecided – I am aiming to produce 300 pages based on a  theme of lost love. It will not be a romance collection, instead it will be a series based on real life events.

Enjoy.

I received a lovely comment from a reader about my book, Missing.

She found the description of the location, setting and the farming community authentic and real. This, she believed, could only have been written by someone from within that environment.

I felt humbled by her enthusiasm.

Independence Day Parade

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Independence Day Parade

‘Marcel are you coming.’
‘No, not until I get nuggets.’
‘Get out from under the table. Do you want to see the parade?’
‘Yes, but I want nuggets.’
‘Don’t spoil the holiday, son. We’re going now. Bye.’
‘Wait! I want turkey nuggets.’
‘Mom’s already gone to watch the parade. Now come or stay.’
‘Can you buy me nuggets?’
‘Sorry son, Mom’s taken her purse.’
‘Dad, why do we always have to do what Mom’s says?’
‘Let’s go watch the bands.’
‘Okay. Will Mom buy the nuggets afterwards?’
‘Maybe. Just remember independence and freedom works better, if you’re nice to Mom.’

Gene Pool

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

belton-lap-pool.jpg

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

Gene pool

You know Mary, this takes me back to our swimming galas.
Oh Jeff, fifty years ago and it seems like yesterday.
What did you used to say as we raced?
Yep, and I won the School Gold-Band five times.
Our grandchildren take after you, Mary. They should win the relay, again this year.
Persistence and practice, Jeff, that’s how you win trophies.
I know, but I always kept focused on the bigger prize.
Oh Jeff, are you jealous of my Olympic golds?
Mary you’re an inspiration and always were. What did you used to say?
You’ll never catch me.

Morgs are from Venus

Friday Fictioneers.

gold-tipped-anniversary-rose

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Morgs are from Venus

The creature was here.
Malky dusted the frost from his Morg Detector.
The reading showed ten in a thousand parts of nitrogen dioxide
and traces of nitric oxide.
A trace!
Malky locked his visor, sealed his suit and turned on its heater.
His knees began to shake.
He saw the frosted roses in a vase of water pellets.
What was the Morg after?
Was this a Valentine’s gift and attempt at amorous flattery?
Or a trap.
Were there frosted chocolates?
A lyrical voice called, ‘Malky’.
His detector bleeped nitric warning.  Too late.
She was beautiful. He was frozen in love.

Cracks

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

dales-broken-door

Dale’s Broken Door.

Cracks.

‘You expect me to walk the dog and wash up – again!’
She slammed the door on the way out.
What did I say?
‘Weight watchers?’ I shouted after her.
It’s true, always another class.
Jogging or swimming, gossiping. I’ve married a fat ghost.
I expect she’ll stay with friends tonight. Moody!
Sorry dear, the meeting ran late, the boss insisted on a couple of drinks.
‘There is always next month you know.’
She didn’t like that.
“Look – tonight,” she pointed at the calendar.
We’ve been trying, but this organised sex is so stressful.
Honestly, I’m not ready for children.

 

Murder on the Express

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple

rr-tracks-at-harpers-ferryc

PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn M. Miller

Murder on the Express

He saw her alone in the compartment and went in.
She was exquisitely beautiful, young and naïve. Her diamond necklace, those earrings and that fur coat would sell for ten year’s rent. He’ll take them in the tunnel.

He was handsome with a charming smile and looking for company on a long journey, she thought. Something was wrong, a premonition and itch in her new Louboutin stilettos.
The train rattled into the darkness.

At her stop, she wiped the blood from her shoe. Kissed his forehead above the blooded hole. “Goodbye,” she laughed, “what a shame.”