Tag Archives: Friday Fictioneers

Faerie Fae

janet-webb-french-still-life

French Still Life by Janet Webb

In the gloaming, children would flock to Thistleberry Farm, clutching jelly jars with punctured lids, to hunt for fireflies. The field, a flickering yellow-green sea of waist-high grass and wildflowers, was teeming with them.

One girl collected fireflies in a covered crystal jar. She believed they were Faeries. The other children, cruel little beasts, teased her relentlessly. They called her Fae, for “Faerie Girl”. But Fae, as she would forever be known, didn’t seem to mind.

Some people believe she became a Faerie herself when she died. They say, “She haunts the gloaming, Faerie Fae, dressed in eerie blue.”

~kat

99 Words for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers  Flash Fiction Challenge inspired by this photo by Janet Webb and Blue Ghost Fireflies*, a firefly found in the Southeast US that does not flicker but glows and eerie pale blue.

*From firefly.org:

blue-ghost-firefly

Blue Ghost Firefly

Phausis reticulata also known as blue ghost fireflies. These tiny fireflies are common throughout the southeastern US and are known as the “blue ghost” because they do not flash but glow with an eerie blue or green light. Females of the blue ghost are pale yellow or white in color and lack wings (right in photo below). Males do have wings and can fly (left in photo below). Since they have not be studied extensively little is still known about them and their habits


Mother Lode

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!”

~kat

100 Words for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Story Challenge based on the photo above by Claire Sheldon. 


The Lagger

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.”

~kat
(100 Words)

For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Story Challenge based on her own photo pictured above.


Final Thoughts

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.

~kat

100 words for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers Challenge inspired by the photo above by Ted Strutz.


Where the Heart Is

dale-rogerson4

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.”

~kat
(98 Words)

For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneer flash fiction challenge based on this
photo by  © Dale Rogerson.


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