Friday Fictioneers: (Less Than) Half the Story


Photo Copyright – John Nixon

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This is my submission for Friday Fictioneers, the weekly 100-word flash fiction sprint helmed by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. For more stories and/or to add your own, click the blue froggy above.

It’s been a while since I’ve written as part of this blog hop but the versatility of responses this week’s picture made me giggle so many times while reading some of the stories – and then think deep thoughts along with others. Mine is a serious story but I still think the picture is hilarious. For the record. In my happy place the clown is actually okay despite performing a really cool trick or possibly not actually a clown at all. Happy Mid-June!

(Less Than) Half the Story

“Pleading the fifth should be illegal.” Trying to be funny. Cameron’s cheek still throbbed beneath the bandages. “Only victims get tortured now.”

Lisa Thompson did not smile, did not move, not even to glance at her watch.

“Next time I see you, Cameron, is going to be in the morgue. After he kills you.”

“I’m such a klutz.” Cameron pleaded with her pale green eyes. Please believe me, those eyes said. Please don’t be angry.

ADA Thompson nodded once. She stood and left the room without another word, closing the door definitively behind her.

Friday Fictioneers & A-Z Challenge: Island Dreams


PHOTO PROMPT – © Jennifer Pendergast

This is my post for Friday Fictioneers and the A-Z Challenge, a hundred word story in response to the prompt and my entry for the letter I. For more stories click the frog and for more fun “I” stuff, check out the challenge!

Island Dreams

Funny the things we tell ourselves.

I’m better off without you.

Couples with children noisily talk, laugh, play, while I turn the page in the latest epic adventure tale of the moment.

Maybe I’m not really an island. Maybe I’m a causeway gurgling beneath the surf. Maybe I’m the chain between two box-cars, shattered, destroyed, and useless without you.

Then again, maybe I like my freedom, the open sky, no arguments, no promises to “never again,” no cops called by concerned neighbors. Maybe I am an island glistening amidst living waters, trundling peacefully along the track of my new life.