Posts Tagged ‘writing from a prompt’

Merry day-after-Christmas to all the Fictioneers and their reader.!  I hope you have no post-Christmas hangovers of any sort and that your day was wonderful (and if not wonderful, at least as good as it could be.)  Since there’s no rest for the wicked, the Fictioneers are off on another adventure this week, so climb aboard and join the fun by clicking on the little critter at the end of the post to read all the stories.  Happy New Year and may 2013 exceed all your expectations!!

Copyright Jean L. Hays

Copyright Jean L. Hays

Breakfast Special

 The aroma of fresh cinnamon rolls and two-eggs-anyway-you-like-ham-or-bacon-toast-hash-browns-and-coffee made him wobbly.  Shoving shaking hands gun-like into his pockets, he summoned his inner James Dean, bad-boy look in place, lacking the dangling cigarette, because he hated them.

The grandmotherly woman smiled as he approached­.  “What can I get you?”

“Whatever’s in your register and no one gets hurt.”  (Crap, how trite.)

“There’s no need…”

Eyes flickering nervously, “Just open the register.”

“Really, you…”

Urgently…“Open it!”

Her hand emerged from the register with a workmanlike gun.   “I won’t give you money, but there’s plenty food and I can use a dishwasher.


It’s the pre-Christmas production of Friday Fictioneers, ably steered by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields and picture this week courtesy of Scott Vannatter.  The cute little link thing after my story will grant you access to flight of imagination of all sorts (AKA the rest of the stories.)  Feel free to post your own story and no matter what, have a blessed and happy Christmas/holiday.

copyright-scott-l-vannatter

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas
(With thanks to Clement Clarke Moore for the original)

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
Just one creature was stirring and it wasn’t a mouse.
The stockings were hung on the mantel with care
Just a jump-able distance away in the air.

The tree looked delightful, amazing to see,
The perfect playground for a Christmas kitty.
The family was snoozing away for the night.
Now was the time for some Christmas delight.

All of a sudden, there arose such a clatter
They rushed down to see the whole lot in tatters.
But in the kitchen, there was nothing to see
Save an innocent-looking, complacent kitty!

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I struggled this week to not run amok and re-write the entire poem because I had some great lines that I couldn’t get in to this version. (May do it another time.) However, I ruthlessly channeled my inner Rich/Nazi English teacher (NOT saying that’s you, Rich, but I know you’ll give me a hard time about it anyway) and pared and re-pared until I actually got down to 100 words, my goal each week just because it is. 🙂  I hope it gave you a good laugh and got you in the Christmas spirit!



I love Friday Fictioneers, but sometimes it seems that it was just Friday (or Wednesday) only a few days ago.   Or is it just me?  If that’s the worst problem I ever have, I’ll be very fortunate!!  Rochelle, merci beaucoup for hosting and thanks to Rich for the picture.  Happy birthday to Ted, Kent, Mary, my mom (born on Pearl Harbor day), and any other December birthday folks!  (Rochelle, if you’re amassing birthdays, Bill’s and mine are both in March.)  🙂

My first thought was someone at the end of life thinking of all the choices made, one inside each door.  However, something ran amok inside my head and what emerged was a riff on that idea.  Or maybe just riff-raff.  Who can say?

100_7262-1 copyright Rich Voza

The Big Cheese
Or
The Gjetost of Christmas Past

His mind wandered.  So many choices throughout his life.  Not all perfect, but he was satisfied.  Head of Dewey, Cheatum and Howe, Attorneys-at-Law, (plural intentional but deceptive—no other power here), people averted their gazes when he passed, feared him.  Life was good!

A knock.

“Enter.”

“A Mr. Gjetost to see you.”  Fat Tim, AKA“Tiny”, handed him a card, departing silently but for his limp.

What the dickens?  This guy’s a Norwegian cheese?  Ebenezeer scrutinized the card.  Mr. G. H. Ost.  Tim and names!  Wonder what this guy wants?

“Mr. Ost, how may I help you?”

“Au contraire, Mr. Skruge…”



Friday Fictioneers–a group of talented writers coming together weekly to share 100-word stories based on a picture prompt.  Just read or be a part.  (Click on the little character to access all the stories.)  This week’s prompt is a holiday photo from Fictioneers hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

A Made Man

Everything makes or mars us in some way. Which one depends on us.

They say after the first time, it’s easier; has less impact.  Not for me.  Family involved me and, even with family behind me, it was, and remains, difficult.

I’d noticed her before, around town.  When her family was chosen, I went reluctantly to their house that night.  Stomach churning, I rang the bell and stepped back to wait.

Her mother recounts yearly that the money meant a coat for her daughter, now my wife.  It became our family’s Christmas tradition.  The stories we hear bless us year-round.

The real story…One year early in our marriage, we decided there had to be more than just giving gifts to family and friends, so we asked our pastor who at church might need some help for Christmas.  We put the small amount of money we could afford in a Christmas card, drove to the house and, with trepidation, rang the bell.    The single mom told us every Christmas after that what it meant to her to be able to buy a winter coat for her son, a coat she wouldn’t have been able to afford.  It was a humbling yet wonderful experience that we continued yearly with different families.  May you bless and be so blessed this Christmas!

It’s almost Thanksgiving, the perfect time for a Friday Fictioneers piece as  I’m thankful Bill introduced me to this wonderful group of writers who are also lovely people.  Of course, I have much, much more for which to be thankful each day, even though tomorrow’s the day I take to especially thank God, literally, for His abundant blessings to me.  Joyce Johnson, thank you for the picture, Rochelle for hosting and the rest of you for helping me improve my writing and for providing a bar for which to strive.  I value each of you immensely, (even if I don’t get all your stories read immediately this vacation week. 🙂

Cottage Industry

In search of baking soda, she dodged rain drops, running to the neighbors’.  The perfectly-coiffed, blue-white-haired Mrs. Ulrich (“Call me Janeen, dear”) invited her in.

Gratefully sipping steaming tea, she noticed the metalwork displayed…a face and hand.  “They’re marvelous!”

“My husband Tom makes them, dear.  Would you like to see the others?”

She readily agreed.  The metalwork was lovely, perfect for the garden.  Perhaps for Christmas?

In the basement workshop, Tom’s smiling face greeted them.  “Choose something that’s you, dear.”

“No, I couldn’t.” But she drew close to take a better look.  “They’re so life-like!  Where do you get the…”



Today’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt is from our fearless leader, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  The Fictioneers say hello to Sebatian Joshua Pendergast, born Nov. 4, 2012 to fellow Fictioneers “Elmowrites”, AKA Jen.  Sebastian, we’re eagerly awaiting your first submission. 🙂  My story is inspired not only by this picture and the sci-fi riff always lurking about the Fictioneers, but by all those still suffering from Hurricane Sandy.  Prayers go up for you daily.

To read all the stories, go to http://www.inlinkz.com/wpview.php?id=208942.

The Way It Spozed To Be

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

We’d obeyed The One’s commands…no fossil fuels, fats, sugars, big business or AC, keep moving in the winter; worship only in the theater, on TV or on Sunday afternoons.

No Old Ones as teachers of survival–hadn’t wanted them to suffer.  No young to save–too inconvenient.  Nature had been tamed.  We were in control.

In hidden pockets, the Rebels lived with the old skills, drinking deeply of life.

We drank only Kool-Aid.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.  It wasn’t supposed to be so cold.  We weren’t meant to die…were we?

Friday Fictioneers has a new home with Rochelle Wisoff-Fields and to quote Yoda, “Rochelle, thankful to have you we are.”  You can access all the stories at http://www.inlinkz.com/wpview.php?id=204644.  Read, comment, like.  (Wait!  Isn’t that a book about blogging??)  As for me and my blog, I’m happy to have comments and criticism, provided both are couched in positive terms without no bad language.  Now, without further ado, this week’s story.  (Any mistakes courtesy of sangria and a dinner of amazing tapas…blog to follow tomorrow!)

Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Needs

I know immediately this couple needs the corner booth, with privacy and the view.  I leave menus, bring water and contemplate what that booth has witnessed.

Make-ups and break-ups.
Kisses and kiss-offs.
Tears of unutterable joy and inexpressible sorrow.
Eyes clinging and veering away.
Loneliness and forever friendships.
Hilarity and hysterics.

The gamut of emotions.

I came here, a callow waitress, in it for the tips, waiting to move on.

I stay on as owner and full-time town psychologist; the booth, my couch.  Therapy for the cost of a meal.  I stay out of love and need.  Theirs and mine.

Friday Fictioneers says good-bye to creator Madison Woods this week and hello to our new home with Rochelle  Wisoff (no “h’)-Fields,http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/.   Madison, we hope to read your stories often; Rochelle, thanks for taking up the torch.  Now sit back and enjoy the read.  As always, click on the little icon at the end to access all the stories.  Oh, yes…thanks, Ron, for the picture.

Forever, Love

Their f­­­irst trip to their daughter’s as new citizens and their 60th anniversary.  Truly a special day!  He smiled at his wife; took her hand.  He knew she really didn’t look the same as when they met, but that’s what his heart saw.  Thinking of their grandchildren, he tightened his grasp; chuckled.

Last stop before they arrived.  Only a few people got off, including the young man who’d been sitting in front of them.  As the bus started, he noticed the forgotten backpack.  Perhaps they could stop.  He called to the driver, “Excuse…”

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Bus Explodes—Terrorism Suspected
Over 80 dead



Friday Fictioneers is a weekly fun-fest that consists of writing a 100-word
story, poem or introduction to a story

  based on a picture prompt posted by Madison Woods.
This week’s intriguing picture is by Lora Mitchell.
If you’d like to read or join in, click on the little link at the end of this story and get ready for some fun. (more…)

Friday Fictioneers ride (or write) again!!  This is your chance to read all the creative stories on the site hosted by Madison Woods, stories based on this picture by one of the Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  Thanks to both Madison and Rochelle.  To read any of the stories for this week, click on the icon at the bottom of the post.  Or join us if you’d like to be a part of this wonderful group of writers. (more…)