PHOTO PROMPT © Liz Young
“I found it.” Pam whispered.
“What are you whispering for? It’s not like you’re going to wake the dead!” Mark guffawed as he handed her the etching paper and pencil.
“Shhhh. Just give me the paper. I hate graveyards; damn history class!” Pam’s hands shook as she created an etching of the famous headstone.
“Do you believe the legend that says if you rub the headstone the old man will show up?” Mark sneered.
“No! God! Stop it Mark!”
Suddenly the temperature plummeted. Pam whipped around to scold Mark for his incessant laughter, but he was gone.
For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers challenge based on this photo by Liz Young.
PHOTO PROMPT © DALE ROGERSON
The boom of a trash truck outside startled her. Her head was spinning.
“Where am I?” she gasped, fumbling for her clothes. As she dressed the sound of someone showering hummed from the next room.
“Why don’t I remember. Was I drugged?” she mumbled.
She grabbed her things and tiptoed past the bathroom; the front door in sight at the end of the hall, when she heard the water stop.
“You’re up! Where are you going so early?” his unfamiliar voice rasped from behind.
“Work. I have to go to work,” she whimpered not turning. The door was padlocked.
-kat – 12 April 2017
For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers challenge based on this photo prompt by © Dale Rogerson
photo prompt by © Jellico’s Stationhouse
“What about that old bike?” the auctioneer asked. “Whippets draw a nice price. Collectors always looking for…”
“No,” Abby cut him off, “not the bike. Everything but the bike,” she turned away, tears burning down her cheeks.
“Whatever you say,” he retorted, “just trying to…”
“The rest goes,” Abby repeated. Mom’s china, the silver, Grandma’s Waterford stemware, Daddy’s ivory straight razors, century old heirlooms and the family homeplace; all would soon be cashed in to pay the medical bills.
Grandpa taught her to ride on that bike. His bike. She would ride again. “No, not the bike, Grandpa” she whispered.
kat – 6 April 2017
For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers based on this photo prompt by © Jellico’s Stationhouse
PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria
I grew up on an island. My family’s business was fish.
All us kids had jobs. Mine was collecting fish guts, tails, heads in a bucket; bait for the next day’s catch.
I hated it; the salty air, the fishy smells and slimy ooze.
When I graduated from college I landed my dream job and settled in the city, as far away as possible from the coast.
My company recently transferred me to its new office. “You’ll love the view,” they said.
Funny! Ended up where I started but with a bird-eye view. Have to admit, I do love it.
kat – 30 March 2017
For Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers challenge based on this photo by Fatima Fakier Deria.
PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll
Once upon a time, my halls sang with laughter. My kitchen hummed, percolated and crackled, steamy and aromatic; hints of cinnamon, coffee, fresh bread and bacon.
Tea was served every afternoon in my parlor. Gossip dripped like venom from the rouged lips of fine ladies in flowery frocks, their white-gloved pinkies lifted properly as they sipped from china cups. My study still smells of sweet, fine cigars from nights when distinguished gentleman gathered after dinner to discuss the politics of the day.
These days people do their living outside my iron gates; sleeping with me, then leaving.
~kat – 23 March 2017
For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers 100 word story challenge based on the photo above by J. Hardy Carroll.