Campfire Fun: Friday Fictioneers

bonfire-anshu

PHOTO PROMPT © Anshu Bhojnagarwala

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“That’s not even scary,” Nicky said, leaning back away from the crackling campfire. Tall and thin, he wore his lanky hair in a bun.

“There’s no such thing as werewolves,” Amanda agreed. Comfy in t-shirt and jeans, she had decent meat on her bones..

From their places across the campfire, Rebekah cast her mate Lyon a knowing glance.

“Just in case, we should stick close to the fire,” he said, implying the group would be safer there.

Rebekah knew the truth, though. Soon, the full moon would rise, and Lyon preferred his meals preheated.

….

This is my submission for Friday Fictioneers, where every week intrepid adventurers set out to create 100-word flash fiction. Some of it perhaps not so fictional after all….

Friday Fictioneers: Snow Globe Life

bokeh-priya-bajpal

Snow Globe Life

Looking out at you, I know you don’t see me, and that’s fine. My smile never ends, my feet forever frozen mid-twirl on the faux-ice in a make-believe rink.

Long ago, months ago, you last shook my world, raining tiny grains of white. When you first got me, I was the shiny new toy.

Months have passed. If only you knew about the secret spell binding me. After one year left alone, I will be free – and then we will see – what happens next.

….

This is my entry for Friday Fictioneers, hosted as ever by the inimitable Rochelle!

For more stories, click the blue froggy.

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Who Came Up With This?

j-hardy-boxing-gymPHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

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Who Came Up With This?

Way back so long ago people hadn’t invented calendars yet, two brothers came up with this great idea: we will fight each other, and people will pay us money to watch us.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t seem to agree on who came up with the idea first.

“Me!”

“No, me!”

Punches were thrown. Hair may or may not have been pulled (depending on who you “believe.”) Their fight attracted so much attention that they called it an exhibition match and sold tickets to the next one for one big gray stone each.

Thus was boxing invented.

This is my weekly submission for Friday Fictioneers, where each week we write 100-word stories in response to the prompt given to us by author and talent manager Rochelle. For more stories or to add your own, click the froggy! (Just don’t punch him too hard – he’s sensitive.)

Author’s Note: No one have ever been able to convincingly explain to me how beating up people (not oops did my hockey stick accidentally hit you – but literally knocking people unconscious on purpose) is an actual sport.  I have theories.

Love You Less

mg-rose-stem

 

Love You Less

I arrive home early from work to find candles burning, romantic music, rose petals strewn across our hardwood floor.

What? You were never this romantic.

The sounds draw me to our bedroom, to you half-dressed with my best friend.

“Loves me not, I guess.”

You look up from kisses, drowsy with love. “Honey? You’re early. Um. I can explain.”

“Great. Now you can’t be mad at me for hitting your car.”

“What? When?” You start to get up. Now, you’re worried.  You and that car.

“In about thirty seconds.” I wave and go. You were never that smart, either.

This is my weekly story for Friday Fictioneers, where ever week author Rochelle Wisoff-Fields gives us the prompt and we write 100 word stories to match. For more stories and to add your own, click the froggy!

Home

dale-rogerson-snow-photo

Home

A single light blazes in the distance guiding my way, the only thing visible through the haze. The past haunts each step: explosions, screams, decisions, truths too harsh to remember or forget.

Twenty feet away now, feet crunching through snow, hair frosted by harsh winds. A door swings open to reveal a shadowed face.

They will call us heroes, saviors of our world.

But what about our life together? Can you accept the person I’ve become? Can the person I’ve become accept you? I have to know, once for all.

“Honey, I’m home.”

This is my weekly post for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle, our ever-present light in the dark. For more stories, click the link.

The Love Boats

PHOTO PROMPT © JS Brand

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The Love Boats

When we first met, it was love at first sight. You were well-built and strong, sturdy steel sides carving a path through water. My gleaming white surfaces glistened in the sun as I glided past.

We said we’d go slow. No promises. No regrets.

But then, something happened, something neither of us expected. And now, there’s a jet ski in my hull. I think it’s yours.

I wait for your response, fingers clasped on my radio.

Static. Held breath. Then, “You are so weird. Call me later, and I’ll pick it up when I’m in port.”

….

This is my weekly submission for Friday Fictioneers. Our captain for this voyage is the ever-vigilant Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. For more stories or to add your own, click the froggy!

Pieces

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PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Pieces

“You need help.”

And I walked away wondering what is wrong with…me?

You did help me. You’ve taught me so much.

Like saying “you need help” without offering to help is actually an insult. Also, sometimes “really good people” are perfectly okay with shattering you, leaving you to pick up the-

Anyway. Now I know. There are people out there willing to take credit for doing nothing. That’s what they do, how they apparently thrive.

But I’m not magic. I can’t turn shards of glass into a mirror.

This is my weekly story for Friday Fictioneers. This year the picture is from Rochelle, our fearless leader, writer, and a good photographer too. For more stories, click the blue Froggy!