Friday Fictioneers: Not So Neighborly

dale-rogerson-snow-photo

Photo courtesy – Dale Rogerson

 

Not so Neighborly

Word Count:  100

He’d planned it; Mrs. Merriwether would answer the door in her Sunday morning housecoat, smiling sweetly.  She would thank him for bringing Saturday’s mail from the mailbox, and he would step inside slightly to inquire if she needed help; she was elderly after all.

She would pause to think and then he’d punch her to the floor.  After that, with gloves on, he’d locate and steal the inheritance she’d been wittering on about banking for the past decade.

However, the snow (and potentially incriminating footsteps) had given Mrs. Merriwether a reprieve.

In darkness of his own, he watched her house.

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Friday Fictioneers – Dark Magic

wheel

Photo courtesy: J Hardy Carroll

Dark Magic

100 Words

 

Paula ignored the mean girls’ bullying.

“Hey loser!  The back of your head looks like your face – flat and hairy!”  They erupted in giggles but Paula remained calm.

“Hey WITCH!!”  This time, with a discernible thread of hatred, “Your Mother killed herself cuz she couldn’t stand to look at your ugly, wart face!”

That hit the nerve.

The ride began its tilting swirl, becoming faster, reaching higher.  Paula lifted her chin to feel the wind, and to listen for the screams from the girls as their car mysteriously dismantled.

Just like Mother, they will pay for their words, she thought.

Friday Fictioneers – Escape

fridays-moon-ted-strutz

Photo courtesy – Ted Strutz

Escape

Word count:  100

Holly stood on the bow.  Was it the bow?  Or the stern?  Did ferries have those things, she wondered.  She had purposely taken the last trip to Tangier Island to escape Roger, feeling simultaneously anxious and guilty.  Their boys slept in the empty cabin, aware of the urgency and the reasons but after a long road trip, they could ask no more questions.  Holly touched her black eye and imagined a life without fear or rebuke for her little family.

The dock approached but Holly froze; her father lay motionless on the ground.  Beside him, Roger waited, gun in hand.

Friday Fictioneers – Sub Hell

Photo courtes - Hardy Carroll

Photo courtesy – Hardy Carroll

Sub Hell

Word count: 99

 

Michael’s knees cracked as he crouched.  At six feet two, he felt it would be kinder on his body to be level with the phone than bend for the duration of the conversation.

After inserting the quarter, he dialed and waited.  Schoolchildren gawked as they passed, hiding giggles beneath cupped hands.

“Hello?” She answered.

Michael hesitated.  Everything he wanted to say vanished.

“Hello?” She repeated with a hint of sarcasm that he missed dearly; she had a quick wit and a lively mind.

“Miranda…I can’t do this anymore.”

“Mike, you’ve been a substitute for a week. Suck it up.”

Friday Fictioneers – Car Love

vw-in-israel-wmq

Photo courtesy: Kent Bonham

Car Love

Word count:  100

“It’s just a taxi, Todd.”

“Yeah but Em, it’s a Volkswagen! In Israel!”

Emily rolled her eyes, wishing she’d not worn the hoodie; it had been cooler at dawn but now she was sweltering. And irritated. Todd’s fixation with cars was sufferable back home but on holiday, she thought he should adjust his priorities.

“Todd!” She stamped her foot. “We’re not at home y’know. Stop fawning over your silly cars!”

Finally, he looked at his girlfriend. “I love cars, Em. Elegant or ugly, they’re amazing machines.”

With that, he saluted her, climbed in the taxi, and left her standing alone.

 

Friday Fictioneers – Your Life, Your Choice

49-womans-face

Photo courtesy – Liz Young

Your Life, Your Choice

Word count:  100

 

Jeremy stared glumly down at the city; he could smell the destitution from up here. Another night had passed by on Knob Hill with a stolen six pack, and cigarettes.  However at some point, he’d discovered a mannequin head.  Her appearance was a mystery but Jeremy had named her Lucy.  As his buzz grew, he discovered how easy it was to talk to her.

Sometimes, he’d clutched her tightly and screamed; he’d cradled her in his chest while deep, wretched sobs roiled from him.  Sometimes, he’d simply looked at her.

This morning, Jeremy knew he had always had a choice.

 

Friday Fictioneers – Ally

back-ally1

Photo courtesy Jan Marler Morrill

Ally

Word count:  99

 

“No, alley is spelled with an E.” She said.

“No…” he was becoming exasperated, “there is no E.”

“If there’s no E, then it’s just ally, like in wars when countries help each other out.”

He snorted, “No that’s allie with an IE. God, didn’t they teach you anything in school?”

His misplaced superiority rankled her, and she turned on him in full grammar nazi mode.

“It is alley, spelled A-L-L-E-Y. ALLIES are made during WAR!”

She kicked him in the shin and as he bent over, punched him in the head, and left him friendless in the alley.