Friday Fictioneers – April’s Flowers

Dale rogerson

Photo courtesy – Dale Rogerson

April’s Flowers

Word Count:  100

April stared forlornly at the arrangements.  The tall one was a bit sparse and the little one looked like something her Grandmother might have on the dining room table.  Still, she longed for someone to think enough of her to send flowers to work.

Imagine her coworkers’ reactions!  “She’s just the receptionist.” They’d say, incredulous.  “She lives alone with her cats, and wears dowdy clothes!”

Maybe, April thought, she’d fix it so that “someone” did think of her that way.

She continued staring at the flowers, knowing full well that the deception would only serve to make her more miserable.

 

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.

Friday Fictioneers: Sweet Maggie

jhardy

Photo courtesy: J Hardy Carroll

Sweet Maggie

Word count:  100

She was a shivery thing huddled in the corner, trying to appear smaller to the junkies who taunted and threw stones.  Even in my addled state, my heart broke.  I scooped her up, tucked her inside my jacket and fled the building with their jeers following.

Fourteen years ago, that kitten saved me; I took on a responsibility and I loved her.  We’ve been through a lot but no matter how far down the mental well I tumbled, she was right there to haul me up.

She died yesterday.

Helpless; hopeless, I’ve returned to chase the dragon one last time.

 

**For our cat, Maggie.  I’m so sorry.**

 

Friday Fictioneers: The Damned Town

antiques-along-the-mohawk

Photo courtesy:  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

The Damned Town

Word count:  100

Lesley eyed the building while she polished the antiques. Its bleak façade hung like a gaping maw; rotted teeth below empty sockets, and its tongue rolled rock-strewn into the river.

Her gaze returned to inspect the wares on the windowsill; all polished and shiny, ready for another day of business.  Lesley knew though, that by morning they would all be tarnished again.

That night, as every night, Hell’s presence rose through the devil’s portal, imparting its ancient malice into the water. Fetid fumes seeped up river banks, swarmed over trees and bled into buildings, coating everything in a dark patina.