Tag Archives: six word story. flash fiction. Great writing.

Carpe Diem, Quam Minimum Credula Postero

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.

Forked Tongue – James McEwan

Forked Tongue

The good people at Literally Stories have picked my contribution – Forked Tongue – as their Sunday read. They have included some background information on what inspired me to write the story from my time living in Berlin.

Please read the story here: Literally Stories – Forked Tongue – James McEwan

Let the Literally Stories team know if you enjoyed the reading experience by leaving a brief comment on their page.

Many thanks to Leila Allison for selecting my work as a re-read on their site.

 

Healthy Curiosity or Weird Paranoia

Flash Fiction for Friday Fictioneers – Read more here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria

Healthy Curiosity or Weird Paranoia

It’s my chance to read her diary.
She scribbles secretly every night. What does she write?
Why should I care?
Perhaps she makes notes about my impotency, I’m sure.
What is she planning?
A holiday, a birthday surprise? Notes to support a divorce!
Should I? Yes, I will.
She has such beautiful writing, something I noticed before we married.
Gym – met Danni. She’s pregnant. Tried to convince her not to terminate.
Ah! I know she craves a baby.
Booked into Prima Inn for Thursday. Bought my favourite undies.
John is such a hunk.
Who’s John?

Tinker Tailor Fashion–Spy

I really like this picture as my daughter has a similar pin cushion and there are other items which are recognisable and nostalgic; indeed.

Friday Fictioneers – Go and read their stories.

PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

Tinker Tailor Fashion Spy 

Caroline was just an ordinary seamstress, sewing to earn a few pennies.
She was under arrest; her background being scrutinised.
No comment was all she mumbled to the fashion police. They beat her.
She was a fool: the pin cushion from Hong Kong and the military buttons pointed to her Intelligence role in the Far East.
That was years ago. She was a civilian now and it was commercial espionage.
She had stolen Valantino’s top secret pattern for the Princess’s ballroom dress. Everyone would love a copy, like Cinderella.
Caroline was tight lipped, as an army veteran her pension meant poverty.

Mind Control

 

Read the other ‘100 word stories’ at Friday Fictioneers 

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Mind Control

People were enthralled with the street art of halo-lights, it was fun.
Over time, their interest waned and slowly their minds sunk into abject docility.
Did anyone notice their robotic behaviour, their blank stare and repetitive monotone exchanges?
Professor Katrina Mayne knew why.
The Overlords had hijacked her pioneering medical research; Egon waves to pacify disturbed patients and help them recover from mentally impaired brains.
She knew how the system worked and had to stop the Higher Council enacting their citizen control policy. The human right of free expression was being subdued.
Katrina struggled and bit at the straight-jacket straps.

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.

Fantastic Book Review

One of our wonderful Friday Fictioneer supporters has read my book; thank you.

I am delighted Laurie Bell read my novel Missing and wrote a concise and honest review.

Read her thoughts on her site. Rambles, writing and amusing musings

My inspiration for the novel came after meeting relatives at recent funerals. We knew of each other but have never kept in touch, in one case I made the presumption that two people were my cousins. We had started school together and played games on their farm. We were the same age, and I assumed at the time they were my cousins. I called their father, uncle. It was only recently that I learned they were my father’s cousins.

With family secrets and misinformation, I developed the novel. It is a collection of snippets of real events each balanced on the premise of something missing. On the surface, the main character Laura is missing her mother, but underneath every other person in the book is missing an important aspect of their lives.

I believe the revelation in the novel asks the questions;
Who suppresses the family secrets in your lives?
Would you want to know?

The Honey-Trap

Friday Fictioneers

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

The Honey-trap

Anya was naked and walked past.
I stopped reading.
(Mrs Newsome wanted Strether to rescue Chadwick from a wicked woman.)
I was dressed when Anya emerged from the bathroom.
‘Ready?’ She adjusted her blouse.
In East-Berlin, we had met in a provocative gaze across a crowded room.
‘Will he be alone?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘My flight is tonight.’
Col Kryuchkov met us at Marx’s Tomb in Highgate, and I gave him the USB memory.
‘I love you.’ I kissed Anya. ‘Goodbye.’
The encrypted files were bogus lists of double agents.
Another time, they may return to poison me.

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.’

A Warning Anagram

Friday Fictioneers – inlinkz

PHOTO PROMPT © Randy Mazie

A Warning Anagram

‘Whoever created time.’ Holmes mumbled as sweat dripped from his chin. ‘Must control the universe.’
I sprinted to catch up. ‘It’s abandoned. You were wrong Holmes.’
‘No, Watson, those walls conceal the Tardis.’ He wiped his brow. ‘See, a warning; Transgression S – S for Sherlock.’
I stared at his intellectual smugness forming laughter lines by his eyes. The dust burned in my lungs, and Holmes’s grin prompted me to draw my pistol. If I shot him, I’d be free from this mad quest?
‘Yes, let’s be careful,’ Holmes said. ‘We may have overstepped the Time Lord’s patience.’