Photo by Claire Sheldon
“How many of these are there?”
“I don’t know, a couple hundred.”
“You sure the old lady said she hid money in her stuffed animals?”
“That’s what my cousin’s, friend’s, mother heard her neighbor say.”
“What?! I can’t believe I’m sitting here unstuffing this woman’s creepy collection on hearsay!”
“But it could be true! Besides, I trust my cousin.”
“You lost me at ‘friend’, my friend. The old lady will be back soon. If we don’t find something soon, I’m outa here!
Just then a shiny penny tumbled from a pile of stuffing.
“Really dude?! God!!!!”
“Well, it IS money!”
100 Words for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Story Challenge based on the photo above by Claire Sheldon.
Photo by © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
There was one in every tour group. The “laggers”, he called them. They were the most lucrative marks, Mortie had found, willing to surrender everything of value. After years of working the streets, he was something of a legend.
He and his partner waited in the shadows until the others turned the corner. It would be a textbook block and bump. Easy.
Mortie approached the woman, feigning distress.
She didn’t respond. Instead, Officer Jillian Reed flashed a badge and pistol, “Stop! You’re under arrest!”
In seconds they were surrounded.
“Jillie?” Mortie cried.
“Busted, Uncle Mort. It’s high time you retired.”
For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Story Challenge based on her own photo pictured above.
PHOTO PROMPT © TED STRUTZ
The car window whined and knocked as Roger pressed the down button repeatedly.
“Gotta get that fixed,” he mumbled. A blast of misty air smelling of fish and diesel fuel assaulted his nostrils.
He hated the ferry. The cars and trucks sandwiched in rows, bumper to bumper like sardines triggered his claustrophobia.
On choppy days like today, the teeter-tottering of the vessel would likely curdle the yoghurt he’d had for breakfast. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d lost the contents of his stomach on this trip. But this would be the last time. He just didn’t know it yet.
100 words for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers Challenge inspired by the photo above by Ted Strutz.
photo by © Dale Rogerson.
Kim learned not to become attached to things, like a favorite toy or friends. At age 12 she understood that nothing is permanent.
“Kim,” her mother whispered urgently, “get your sister up and packed. We need to move right now. Don’t dawdle!”
It was the dead of night; it was always the dead of night, when Kim, her mother and younger sister would flee, slipping into the shadows until the next time they heard that “he” was getting too close.
“It’s for the best,” Kim told her tired, grumpy self, “but I miss home, wherever, whatever that is.”
For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneer flash fiction challenge based on this
photo by © Dale Rogerson.
photo by © Sarah Potter
I watch the ivy slipping her green tentacles between bricks, crumbling mortar. And water, brackish or raging white caps, it doesn’t matter. She slowly sucks the shore into the sea and hollows tunnels through massive boulders with a kiss.
We lay pavements, build foundations and walls, and erect iron behemoths to the sky in our attempt to mute her, to contain her. Nature always finds a way to reclaim what is hers. What has always been hers.
Like the remnants of civilizations past sandwiched between layers of limestone and ore, we too are destined to return, ashes to dust.
For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneer Flash Fiction Challenge inspired by this photo by © Sarah Potter.