Tag Archives: Writing

Dolphins are Guardian Angels

A 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers.

Hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

You can read the stories from other contributors, here.

Dolphins are Guardian Angels

I admired the parrot fish shoal dashing past, then wham! The impact dislodged my facemask; my flippers were clamped in the teeth of a shark. I struggled my feet free, readjusted my mask and mouthpiece, and swam to a coral buttress. I watched John climb into the boat ten metres above.
The excited bull shark circled and raced towards me. I was trapped.
I heard a screech of whistles and clicks, and a dolphin struck the shark’s underbelly. The pod harassed and chased the menace away.
My saviours escorted me to the surface, and to the safety of the boat.

Young Ones Get Married

Friday Fictioneers 100 word story – Hosted by Rochelle.

Read more great 100 word stories – based on the photo prompt – enjoy.

Proclaimers – Let’s Get Married.

Young Ones Get Married

“Remember our nights in the Barrowland Ballroom. It was wild jigging and dancing. We went mad when Lulu sang ‘Shout’ and then there was ‘Let’s Twist Again.”.’
‘Oh Jack, you were lapping around me like a puppy.’
‘Ten times asking; are you dancing? You said not on your nelly.’
‘Bugger off, I said.’
‘We were wild, rocking around the floor, – everyone watching.’
‘What went wrong, Jack? Look at us.’
‘Fifty years, and they’re still watching.’
‘Aye, and I am still waiting. Are you asking?
‘Oh Maggie, enjoy the moment.’
‘Jack! It’s our tune “Let’s Get Married”.’
‘Yes, I know.’

Dangerous Dating Game

Friday Fictioneers

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.

Fear in the Woods

Friday Fictioneers – Rochelle-Wisoff-Fields

For other stories CLICK HERE

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Fear in the Woods

‘Okay, you must stay together. Promise,’ said Maggie. ‘The pie’s in the oven.’
As a child, she loved playing in the woods, but Massie and Albert were little, at least they had Buster.
When the apple-pie was ready, she went to call for them.
‘Albert, Massie, come on in,’ she called walking into the woods. ‘Buster.’
She saw the dumped fridge and gave it a kick. Typical!
Massie shouted, ‘Hi Mum.’
Buster began barking on top of the fridge.
‘Where’s Albert?’ She pushed the dog aside and opened the door. ‘Albert!’
Massie’s lip trembled. ‘He stayed home on his computer.’

When I am Alone, I am Afraid

Post for Friday Fictioneers – go to the other stories using this link:

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple

WHEN I AM ALONE, I AM AFRAID.

I can’t remember when I first noticed the little bird, a wheatear. When the telephone rang it appeared at the window and when I hung up the handset, I would drop some seeds or crumbs outside.
A bond developed between us and mutual expectation. The bird became my companion, and I was its source of titbits. We were creatures of habit, and the little bird became a great comfort to me in my moments of deep anxiety.
The bird will migrate soon, what will I do?
I wished the calls would stop, or at least whoever it was, would speak.

When the Grim Reaper Calls

Friday Fictioneers more stories here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn Miller

When the Grim Reaper Calls.

I felt a headache and my vision blurred as blood dripped onto the desk.
My mind flew back in time and raced towards a barn, a place I don’t know.
Memories: mother, a dog, a swing, school, my navy days, Doreen, the children growing. A jumble of pictures, smiles and laughter, like a collage of fifty years flashing past.
Guilt crept up my spine with so much to repent and ask forgiveness for the way I treated my sick wife. Overindulgence with her insurance money.
What’s waiting in the barn? Is it Heaven or Hell?
Will Doreen be there?

 

 

Sherlock Holmes and the Time Lord

 

Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

More 100 Word Stories from Friday Fictioneers, here.

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PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Sherlock Holmes and the Time Lord

‘So, it’s true.’ Watson wiped the condensation from the window. ‘The last cough of winter comes in May.’
‘The feasts of the Ice Saints.’ Holmes removed the needle from his arm.
‘One day,’ said Watson, ‘that opium will kill you, and I can’t save you.’
‘Ah Watson, I’m already dead.’ Holmes laughed. ‘Life is relative. Now, where is she?’ He closed his eyes. ‘Where! damn you woman, where?’
Watson sipped his Earl Grey and stared at the pale face of Holmes. He was delirious and mumbling on about a “Tardis” and “The Doctor” hidden beneath the Athabasca Glacier in Canada.

Born Free

Friday Fictioneers

Read more stories here.

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Born Free

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.

Constant Itching is Misery

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.

Meet Me by the Amaryllis

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.