Tag Archives: Short Stories

Gene Pool

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

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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.

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The Violation of Sister Theresa

Friday Fictioneers -Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

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PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

 

The Violation of Sister Teresa

‘We have only one minute to reach the gates,’ whispered Angelina.
‘Take my hand,’ said Sister Theresa. ‘Am I too late?’
‘Please Sister.’ She took hold of her elbow. ‘Come on, the taxi is waiting.’
They shuffled along the path. ‘Please hurry.’
‘The little cherub is kicking.’ Theresa stopped and gasped long breaths.
‘Come on. Come on.’
The Taxi driver helped her into the car; they sped off.
Tears rolled down Angelina’s cheek.
The church doors opened.
‘You missed prayers!’ roared the Bishop. ‘My room now!’
No. I am not Sister Theresa.
She checked her chastity belt was locked.

Psychic Consultant

Friday Fictioneers.

 

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PHOTO PROMPT © Ronda Del Boccio

 

Psychic Consultant

Dorothy pulled her coat collar over her neck and shivered.
Why are they taking so long?
The body of Jeffrey MacDonald, missing for ten days, lay in the fox lair as she predicted.
She pointed into the thicket. ‘You can see his feet.’ She covered her nose with her scarf.
Dorothy was a police Psychic Consultant, who had found the burial locations of fifteen murdered victims.
‘Another Lawyer?’ said the Chief. ‘How many more before we stop this serial killer.’
‘There will be one more,’ said Dorothy.
Her husband, John, had suspected the killer’s name, and motive.
He was next.

 

Dignitas, an Alternative.

We are advised to make good choices and live our life to the full, whatever that really means.

Perhaps, your final choice will be the hardest.

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pixabay.com

I feel privileged to learn my story “Falling Stars” has been published today by the good folks at Literally Stories.

The story was selected by Leila Allison as the Sunday read. (Thank you).

Leila Allison’s thoughts on ‘Falling Stars’.

You are invited to read the story and wonder if this is a great way to go – or not.

Falling Stars

Morgs are from Venus

Friday Fictioneers.

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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.

BURN! BURN!

Friday Fictioneers – Rachel Wisoff-Fields

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PHOTO PROMPT © Anshu Bhojnagarwala

Burn! Burn!

I got the book, ‘How to Declutter’.
My memories too precious for the charity shops, I prayed and heaped them on my bonfire.
Good riddance I thought, there is no turning back now.
I felt elated and mentally free from all those things. You know all the stuff which you said we really, really need, but never did.
Victoria’s secrets still in their packaging. Celebrity Cook books. Tons of clothes, once worn gowns. Shoes. Photographs from the wedding. Files and files of solicitors’ letters.
Burn! Burn!
I cleansed and purified my home, mind and soul.
Hell! I still miss you.

I Knew You’d Wait

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

I Knew You’d Wait

It was all or nothing Irene, that’s what you meant to me.
Ted left with you, driving down the boulevard speeding, they said.
Years later, I’m told he died in a shoot-out in a Las Vegas bar.
Served my time; ten years for robbery.
I heard, Ted dumped you out in the woods.
Damn, you’ve aged, lost your mojo by the looks of it.
I’ve dreamt of this day, my heart weeps, I want to scream at the sight of you.
You’re beautiful, I love you. Is our secret safe?
Under those panels, I stashed ten million dollars.

 

 

If the Boots Don’t Fit.

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Friday Fictioneers.

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If the Boots Don’t Fit

A warm still day; they were a gift.
They hurt his feet, he had said, amazingly his hat fell into the lake.
He swam after it and from the other side he waved, not even goodbye.
How long should she wait? She had said yes; then he wasn’t sure.
She should have said no.
She heard he had a job in Kentucky, drifting with cattle.
Mary-Anne was two today, she needs a father.
How long could they wait? If only she had said no.
Tomorrow she’ll wed a loving man, one who fills the boots with honesty.
She can’t wait.

Murder on the Express

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple

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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.”

Abstinence.

 

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Friday Fictioneers

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PHOTO PROMPT © Nick Allen

Abstinence.

Charlie’s allotment shed stored his tools and was shelter from the rain and cold weather. After planting and weeding he played bridge with his friends and the fun and laughter could be heard late into the afternoon.

Gran would laugh and say; “Hey, I am just off down Charlie’s.” She’d take her knitting basket. Everyone admired his collection of oil cans, particularly the little blue one with Gordons Gin and tonic. Martha liked the Martini from the green one or sometimes they drunk corn whiskey from the brown one.

Let’s go down Charlie’s. He, he. Life is really too short!