A Matter of Taste

This week’s prompt from Rochelle is a lovely painting of typical dining table condiments.
I hope I have added some spice with my story.

Read more stories from Friday Fictioneers HERE.

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

A Matter of Taste

How much?

The value is in the symbology. 
The famous artist is making a passionate plea to their lover.

I don’t understand. What does it say?

Focus on the condiments, they are always complementary.
The spicey, romantic flirtatious pepper by the flickering candle has an offer of an honest commitment.
See the full clear glass of lemonade.

The sauce is a promise of abundant passion and substantial wealth.
Sensible salt is pondering indecisively (half full glass) between a dying flame and the squeeze of the silky-smooth future.

I expect she said no.

Why?

There’s a pepper top on the salt.

Spectacles for Every Occasion

My contribution to our weekly Flash Fiction group Friday Fictioneers.

Read more wonderful fiction bites HERE

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Spectacles for Every Occasion

Certainly, sir.
We have a range of paranormal spectacles.

Yes, our mood range. The rose lens lets you view the world in eternal, euphoric happiness. Our blue ones present a cynical world of bitterness and grievance. Apparently, they are very popular with politicians.
Our nostalgic glasses will let you wallow in a mud pool of missed opportunities and shameful regrets. However, this monocle will swell you with pride as you relive achievements and insurmountable success at the expense of others.

These, in cotton wool to avoid distortion, give a view of our future.
You may not like what you see.

The Torment of Mellow Corn

This week’s picture is symbolic of a light from heaven floating above a church steeple. The image made me think of the UK television comedy show ‘Father Ted’. It portrays a shambolic group of priests, and particularly the character, Father Jack, who is a mad alcoholic lunatic.

More stories can be read by clicking HERE.

The Torment of Mellow Corn

Reverend Jamison obeyed the voice calling him to church. The burning, blinding light confirmed a higher authority was watching. 

His hands trembled as he staggered down the aisle to the pulpit where he found the sacramental wine. He gulped down the liquid, leaving little for the communion. He would mix in some water later.

The voice beckoned, much calmer and calling from the vestry. Where behind the bibles, he snatched a bottle of corn-whiskey and drank; to steady his nerves.

He knelt, ‘Save me, Lord.’ 

Religiously, he sipped the golden Mellow Liquid.

‘The grip of the Devil is tormenting me!’

Stuffed Bald Eagle–Trophy

This week’s Friday Fictioneers picture prompt from Krista Strutz, showing an Eagle, is a reminder to me of the constant struggle in Scotland. The Golden Eagle and numbers of other birds of prey are in decline and the efforts to encourage them to flourish are not popular. The birds prey on game, partridge and grouse, and sometimes young lambs and the idea of striking a balance between the wildlife and people’s livelihood is controversial.

PHOTO PROMPT © Krista Strutz 

Stuffed Bald Eagle–Trophy

John stood transfixed and his heart rate fluttered.
At first, he let the paddle board drift as he watched the eagle land so close.
The magnificent creature stared at him, as if deciding whether he was a threat.

He remained calm and tried to hold the board against the current. He had never been so close to a Bald Eagle, and he savoured every second.
Some people would pay a fortune for this trophy stuffed and on display.

Would people believe him? He wanted to shoot it and prove them wrong.
However, he had left his camera-kit in the car. 

Village Hay and Bread

There is a sense of a peaceful country village in this week’s picture from Sandra.

A place where everyone knows each other and rumours and gossip flourish;
well, everyone wants to know all about you, especially if you have secrets to share.

More stories from Friday Fictioneers here.

Photo Prompt by Sandra Cook

Village Hay and Bread

Marcel drives his tractor through the village, although there are shorter ways to his farm. He stops at the Boulangerie, and it takes ages to collect his bread.

Across the street, Annette rearranges the books in the window of the Librairie, all the time watching for Marcel.

‘Stop it,’ Carole shouts from the till, and then joins her.

‘He’s taking his time.’ Annette checks her watch.

‘Mary-Anne is probably busy with a bun in the oven.’ Carole laughs.

‘Don’t! She’s happily married.’

‘And, she has loved both brothers.’

Marcel appeared; Annette waved.

‘Yesterday, Jacques bought a shotgun,’ said Carole.

‘No!’

Crocodile Love

This week’s picture by Penny appears so peaceful and allows the mind to wander in those warm summer afternoons.

Yet, as I discovered in Roaring Creek Belize, swimming in the water attracts all sorts of creatures, like little fish that nibble and bite!

More from Friday Fictioneers here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Penny Gadd

Crocodile Love

‘There’s one. Oh, it’s gone.’
The crocodile dived, creating a cloud of silt.

Caroline detested John’s profession of photography.
He stopped her from going to the golf course with Jenny. Lovely, soft Jenny.
You’re my wife, John had demanded. Together, we are going croc hunting.
Yes, their problem; together was everything he ordered.

From the boat, she trailed her hand in the water and thought of Jenny.
Sweet, warm-hearted Jenny. Oh, the bliss, when she massaged her legs and kissed–.

‘Look, another one.’ He leaned over the side, snapping away.

‘Careful! You’ll fall in.’ She grinned, rocking the boat.

Infidelity of a Goddess

My first motor bike was a Triumph Bantam 125 and my first car was a Ford Anglia 1200cc. Not surprisingly, examples can be found in motor museums all around the UK. The Transport Museum in Glasgow has on display five models of cars that I once owned over the years. The Ford Capri being perhaps one of the most iconic in its time. The only navigation system in use in those days was the AA Road Map which worked a treat.

This week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt stirs the yearning for the open road. More stories here.

PHOTO PROMPT© Lisa Fox

Infidelity of a Goddess 

This picture reminds me of my Triumph Bonneville and how Diana, her hair whirling from beneath her helmet, would hold on tight.
I loved this feeling as we raced along the roads in the summer.

We’d stop at the Craven Arms for a Theakston’s Best Bitter beer, and afterwards we’d speed to the coast.
Where, among the dunes, we stared at the moon drifting among the stars.

We planned a journey from York to Paris and across Europe to Berlin.

It never happened; instead she ran off with Charlie on his Harley Davidson.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘His is much bigger.’

Treasure Hunt

When I saw this weeks photo prompt from Ted, it reminded me of the saying;

‘Where there’s muck there’s brass.’

So with this idea of reclaiming/recycling old metal, my story is more whimsical than usual.

To read more flash fiction stories from Friday Fictioneers click HERE.

Photo Prompt by Ted Strutz

Treasure Hunt

Colin and Jack unveiled their treasure, a pile of broken auto parts.
Their teacher, Mrs Wilson, smiled, ‘Oh my,’ she said. ‘Where–?’
‘Along the canal path and Bunting’s wood.’
‘Boys, you know it’s Easter, right?’

The class crowded around the items, smirking.
The girls giggled and held up their baskets of coloured eggs.
‘We won. Nah, Nah,’ they chanted. ‘Better luck next year.’

‘Sorry, boys,’ said Mrs Wilson. ‘The Grand Chocolate Egg goes to the girls.’

The boys dragged their cart of junk to Joe’s Yard, where he gave them fifty dollars.
And so, CJ’s Metal Recycle business began.

Nuggets in the Creek

This week’s picture prompt shows the interaction between stones and ice and gives us an interesting photograph.

All I could see was a face on the ice and so the frozen creek became alive.
Thank you to Jennifer Pendergast.

More Friday-Fictioneer flash fiction stories can be found here.

PHOTO PROMPT© Jennifer Pendergast

Nuggets in the Creek

Grandpa found a nugget in our creek, and Grandma said it was the blessing of the Larney. 

The sun was warm when I met Mary-Lou skimming stones, and we played all afternoon.
I never asked, and she never said where she came from.
She just appeared like Grandpa’s gold.

She was there all year and Grandma said, “Marry her, she’s the luck of the Larney.”

Mary was tough and wild, like a prairie pony with a main of red-hot hair.

One winter’s day our boy said, “Look Ma, ice eyes in the creek.”
“Yes Billy, that’s just my father, Larney.”

The Aliens are Here

This week’s picture prompt for Friday Fictioneers adds a sense of modern humour, taking a selfie of a selfie!

More story contributions from Friday Fictioneers can be accessed here.

PHOTO PROMPT© Roger Bultot

The Aliens are Here

Something caressed his face as goosebumps erupted along his arms, and a cold air whispered, ‘Martha’.
John looked in the mirror. “Is that really you? I miss you.”
Since Martha passed, his sixth sense alerted him to soft moans and shadows that danced across the mirror. He was not alone.

For goodness’ sake, he was a scientist searching the universe for intelligent beings on other planets. Yet grief warped his imagination towards believing in the paranormal.

What was life without Martha?

Were the aliens observing him and trying to communicate?
He sensed the cactus plant was reporting his every move.