Monthly Archives: September 2015

The psychic

PHOTO PROMPT - © Marie Gail Stratford

—– Newly married —–

“Where is it?”, the husband asks his mousy wife.

 “What is “it” ?”

“Don’t you know what I’m asking?”

“No”

” A good wife should anticipate the husband’s needs …read his mind”

Wife is speechless.

—- 5 years experience later —-

“Where is it?”, the husband asks.

 “Hallway closet”

“not there”

 “Check the bedroom closet”

“not there”

“Check the bathroom closet”

“Found it”

—- 10 years of experience later —-

“Where is it?”

“Must be where you left it last”

“I don’t see it there”

 “Look right in front of you”

“Found it”

—-

“Mom, how do you know what’s “it” ?” .

Mother smiles enigmatically, “It’s a secret”

————– end ———–

This 100 word story  is written in response to the 100 word photo challenge  posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Field each week.  This week’s photo was provided by fellow Friday Fictioneer/ storyteller Marie Gail Stratford

Click on the ‘blue frog’  below to read other amazing takes on the same photo prompt:

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The Liquid Wolf

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

Finish the story begins with:  “The A&B Building was made entirely from driftwood.”, the History channel drones on TV.

Sara’s mind drifts to the day she read ‘three little pigs’  to her daughter  many moons ago:

“What would you build your house out of ,mama? Straw, wood or bricks?”.

“Brick”.

“I would build it out of straw , mama, but I would make it strong somehow and  when the wolf comes huffing and puffing it would release pollen and send the wolf away sneezing”, the child claps in victory over the imaginary wolf.

A  door bangs elsewhere in the house. The vibrations rattle the glass of water on the child’s bedside table. The water ripples, as if running away , and finding nowhere to go collides with the glass wall. Each unsteady , approaching, footstep sends a tremor through the floor interrupting the rhythm of their heartbeats.

“Build your house with bricks ,sweetheart”, Sara says firmly ,looking her daughter in the eye.

The child nods silently.

——— end —————

The about 150 word  story above was in response to ‘Monday’s finish the story’ flash fiction challenge. This unique flash fiction challenge  provides  a new photo each week, and the first sentence of a story. The challenge is to finish the story using 100-150 words, not including the sentence provided. Details are available here:

https://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2015/09/28/mondays-finish-the-story-sept-22nd-2015/

For other interesting takes on the same prompt click the blue frog below:


The billion dollar bridge

PHOTO PROMPT © The Reclining Gentleman

No one would have blamed David and Dawood had they severed  their childhood friendship.  Their friendship survived terror attacks and fundamentalist governments.

They believed in their respective Gods. Although they must have believed more in  humanity , without even being aware of it. Good people, you can say.

They searched for the “Light” , righteously , as dictated by their respective religions, through charity and piety and humility.

David found it at the end of the tunnel- as an oncoming train.

Dawood found it on a billion dollar bridge – as trampling feet.

“Why?” , they cried . The benignly indiscriminating light shone mercilessly in response.

————————– end ——————————-

The above story is my attempt to make sense of the death of the 700+ Hajj victims – who were trying to in their own way to do the right thing by their faith by making a pilgrimage. And other such senseless and painful deaths that happen  apparently even to good people of all faiths.

Why?  Would we get an answer that we can understand, in this lifetime ?

——-

This 100 word story  is written in response to the 100 word photo challenge  posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Field each week.  This week’s photo was provided by fellow Friday Fictioneer/ storyteller The Reclining Gentleman

Click on the ‘blue frog’  below to read other amazing takes on the same photo prompt:

The gate to No-man’s land

PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

She is standing beside a corpse, hands bloody.

Who is he? Did she kill him? Why?  I probe. She remains silent. I glean from the scene that it was self-defence.

Police, K9 units, courts, media – No, can’t have her deal with all that.  I decide to bury him in the garden.

The garden gate isn’t opening though. I kick it hard. Still doesn’t budge. This is ridiculous.  I decide to cut the body up . I  try to pick up the chain-saw and I realize I’m paralysed.

Cleaning up murder may look easy on TV shows. It’s practically impossible in dreams.

————————- end —————-

Sometimes there are these intense, panicky dreams that wake me up. But in that waking process – in that no-man’s/no-woman’s land between the unconscious and conscious mind -the dream is  processed as if it were an actual event. The brain starts finding solutions to the problem in the dream- tries to put out fires – hide dead bodies . The memory of the actual dream is lost and I’m left like a detective with crime scene photos that get blurrier by the minute……Like a drunk stumbling upon a crime scene with blurred vision. Luckily my body remains paralysed in this sleep state otherwise you will find me searching for a chain-saw in the middle of the night and it would become very messy…Police , K9 units, courts and media…..

—————-

This 100 word story  is written in response to the 100 word photo challenge  posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Field each week.  This week’s photo was provided by fellow Friday Fictioneer/ storyteller David Stewart.

Click on the ‘blue frog’  below to read other amazing takes on the same photo prompt:

Rock the cradle

PHOTO PROMPT - © Jennifer Pendergast

I could sit , all my life, in this cradle of rocks – safe against  tempests and tides- Anchoring myself with an indescribable longing in the hollow of my heart . A longing to be held and to hold – to be buoyant even when weighed down.

But I was made for a purpose by a power greater than me. Cut down . Severed from roots that nourished me.  Planed and pounded.  Shaven and shaped . I need to find that purpose. Fulfil it. Sate that longing.

Will you help me? Yes? Great ! Just rock my boat!

—-

I have been in a writing rut this past month. I do have a lot of excuses – valid ones- I think. Getting back on the writing boat wasn’t easy. Its amazing on how much rust the brain can collect in a few weeks.  Thanks to a gentle push I’m back in action.

—-

This less than 100 word story (91 words) is written in response to the 100 word photo challenge  posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Field each week.  This week’s photo was provided by Jennifer Pendergast, who happens to be a master story-teller herself.

Click on the ‘blue frog’  below to read Jennifer’s, Rochelle’s and other amazing takes on the same photo prompt: