Without stopping to think – Friday Fictioneers

It’s time to write another piece for Friday Fictioneers!  Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields who hosts this venture.  Each week Rochelle chooses a photo prompt to inspire writers to produce a 100 word piece of flash fiction.  Do use the link to her blog if you are interested in joining the group.  It’s a great way to get involved in writing.

90 toilet

PHOTO PROMPT © What’s His Name

Without stopping to think

I saw the sign for the golf club and, on impulse, pulled into the car park.

 Walking along the tree-lined path to the rear of the main building, I made my way to where my grandmother’s café had stood.

 There was an empty space, some piles of rubble and a derelict outhouse.

 I stared at the remains of the place where Gran had established her business and then walked away.

 I wondered what had brought me here after all these years and resolved never to come back.  Better to keep the door of memory closed. 

 Sometimes, remembering hurts too much.

 

 

 

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Beyond the threshold

It’s time to write another piece for Friday Fictioneers! Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields who hosts this venture. Each week Rochelle chooses a photo prompt to inspire writers to produce a 100 word piece of flash fiction. Do use the link to her blog if you are interested in joining the group. It’s a great way to get involved in writing.

89 untidy cupboard

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Beyond the threshold

“That lovely basket please,” said the jolly face in front of me.

“Certainly,” I replied.

“Perfect for fruit,” she told the smiling man who followed her in.

“You’ve fixed my clock. Thanks!” he said, picking it up.

A little boy ran up. His mummy followed. “He’d love that scarf with the yellow fringe.”  I passed it over.

“Ruby slippers!” said a giggling voice. I held up fluffy red ones. We all laughed.

Suddenly, the happy scene vanished.

I turned to face Mother, shouting angrily at me to tidy up.

Life was so much sweeter on my side of the door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is always another story – Friday Fictioneers

It’s time to write another piece for Friday Fictioneers!  Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields who hosts this venture.  Each week Rochelle chooses a photo prompt to inspire writers to produce a 100 word piece of flash fiction.  Do use the link to her blog if you are interested in joining the group.  It’s a great way to get involved in writing.

88 No smoke without fire

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

There is always another story

I took my coffee and went to find a seat.  The café was busy and I was conscious of the stares, the pointing, the whispers.

The story was out!  Where better to share it than the place where we met? After all, we had been ‘part of the crowd’ for so long.

It was a tale of love found, then lost. With elements of deceit, forgiveness, betrayal, reconciliation, rejection and a tragic ending.

Suspicion had fallen on me.  Naturally!  But I had proved my innocence.

“No smoke without fire!”

I heard the muttered comment and acknowledged it with a smile.

Nothing much to say – Friday Fictioneers

87 Bloomingdales

PHOTO PROMPT © Marie Gail Stratford

Nothing much to say

I sat on the wall, gazing at my surroundings.

 An elderly man sat down next to me.

 “What’s that store?”  I asked him.

 “Who doesn’t know the place?”

 “I don’t,” I replied.  “I’ve never been here before.”

 “Bloomingdales.”

 “Can you go in and walk around?”

 He snorted.  “You’d need to smarten up a bit!”

 I turned to the column, “Where’s The Signature Room?”

 He pointed.  “You won’t get in there either!”

 “And North Face?”  I thought that offered an accurate description of his expression.

 He grunted.

 “Do you live here in Chicago?”

 His reply was lost as he shuffled away.

In my father’s house – Friday Fictioneers

It’s time to write another piece for Friday Fictioneers!  Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields who hosts this venture.  Each week Rochelle chooses a photo prompt to inspire writers to produce a 100 word piece of flash fiction.  Do use the link to her blog if you are interested in joining the group.  It’s a great way to get involved in writing.

86 fathers house

PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Ann Hall

In my father’s house

My brother came into the sitting room.

“Finished your last look around?”

 I said nothing.

 “We need to prove the will.  Ready to go?” he asked.

 I’d been here all morning searching in vain.  Time had run out.

 “Will . . .” Dad had struggled to speak.  “New.  Hidden.   Four of twelve.”

 I had no idea what that meant. 

 Now I stared over my brother’s shoulder.

 “A moment longer,” I said.

 “I’ll be waiting outside.”

 I counted the various ornate vases.  Picking up the fourth one along, I carefully removed the envelope inside.

 “Thanks, Dad,” I whispered and went out to the car.