Friday Fictioneers–Sometimes Things Get a Little Hairy

My world is topsy-turvey this morning:  Friday-has-become-Wednesday-has-become-Tuesday!  Instead of a leisurely morning, I find myself tumbling out of bed and scrambling to get a hundred-word story ready for “Friday” Fictioneers.  Not sure if I’ll be able to recover from this and from the thin layer of snow that deposited itself outside overnight (or highs in the low 20’s!!)  I’ll do my best and soldier on.  Perhaps it’s fitting that what came to mind for this photo was…. But no, I won’t give it away.  You’ll have to read it and find out for yourself.  But my inspiration was the interesting-looking trees.  And I’ll look at the bright side–one extra day to read all the other stories.

Copyright John Nixon

 

Sometimes Things Get a Little Hairy

He struggled to find a way through the nightmarish forest of trees coated with a disgusting, viscous substance that seemed to actively impede his progress. Wind and noise buffeted him as he sought the path. Dark, looming trees blocked the light. Sometimes the earth shook, startling him.

He determined to attempt to climb a tree, to catch sight of where he was, to see if it were still day. But as he began, an enormous shape swept down, sending him spinning into sunny space and as the gnat flew away, he heard,
“Dude! Gross! Something was crawling in my Mohawk!”

 

Friday Fictioneers–After Midnight

One of the great difficulties of writing is to make every word count.  Writing a story, or the introduction to a story, in 100 precisely-chosen words,  is a great way to practice that skill.  If you like to write, join us.  We are kind and helpful.
If you like to read, join us.  Our stories are diverse!  Click on the blue link critter at the very end, sit back and enjoy your travels.

(I’ll be traveling Friday-Monday, so it may take me some time to get to your story.  But I will.  Happy Easter or Passover to all of you.)

All three sayings in my story are from our family lexicon, the name has been changed to protect the innocent and, thankfully, the advice was heeded and the story is complete fiction.  Thanks, Rochelle, for the picture.

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After Midnight

“Nothing good happens after midnight” and “Never take a drink you haven’t seen someone open.” Dad’s oft-repeated sayings, sometimes accompanied by Francesca’s surreptitious eye-rolls.   Hot from dancing, she’d gulped from an extended glass, then felt woozy.  Gathering her wits to decline an offered ride, she called Dad, knowing he’d be up until she got home.

She half-sobbed,” I’m sorry.  Are you mad?”

“Stay right there, I’m on my way. You’re fortunate nothing happened and too smart to do it again.”  Then, as he did nightly, he added, “Dad loves Francesca.”

The passing headlights glowed in the warm darkness like nightlights.

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After Midnight

Friday Fictioneers–Relativity

Flirting fairies. Phantasmagorical forays.  Fabulous photos.  Frazzled folks in foggy fields.
Fearsome fellows and fearful filles. Frantic feelings fueling furtive fumblings.  Frenzied freaks.
Friction and fury.  Freezing flesh and phalanges.  Fair friends and foul fiends.  Funky fungus.  Frightening funiculars.
Phony philologists and flippant phantasms.  Frankenstein festival.
Farcical foursomes.  Fossilized fanatics.

Philosophical fracking.

Friday Fictioneers.

Fantabulous!

…..

(I’ll be traveling Thursday but know that I look forward to reading every story when I get off the road.)

Relativity

Dubbed “Flower Power” (he mentally prefaced “flower” with “de”), the car was staged in the garage as if at the drive-in: theater-sized TV, food, plenty of booze, popcorn.  Girls loved it…and he looooooved lovin’ the girls!

Reaching toward tonight’s conquest-in-waiting, he slipped smoothly into his practiced routine. Lust turned to shock when the steering wheel shot out, trapping him, the seat belt snaking around him.  Her kiss left him, literally, speechless.  Starting the car as she climbed out, she cocked an eyebrow and queried, “Ever hear of Morgan le Fay?  Distant relative.”

The garage door rolled inexorably down behind her.

(To read all the stories, click on the little guy above and then on the individual links you’ll find.)