Photo prompt by Janet Webb
Sandra stood at the front window, watching. Outside, the neighbor boy tossed a ball in the air and across the street, old Mrs. Hudson watered the roses that lined the front of her house.
Maybe I will go out today, she thought.
In an instant, Sandra’s heart began to pound as a wave of heat reddened her face. She felt dizzy and dreaded throwing up. Tears swelled in Sandra’s eyes. Once again, disappointment overshadowed her earlier good mood.
In time, the fear subsidies. But Sandra would not be leaving the house today.
This story was inspired by a photo prompt posted on Friday Fictioneer’s July 14, 2017 , a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less. Photo Prompt provided by Janet Webb.
Photo Prompt by Claire Sheldon
The words litter the walls of my cubicle:
Happiness is Productivity
Every morning, I dive into bliss, glad to be fruitful. Robotics have replaced meaningful jobs and attending University is unattainable, except for the uber-wealthy. Fearing the words ‘welfare state,’ the Government creates jobs for workers like me, so we too stay productive.
I am a ‘Stapler.’
Daily, I receive stacks of paper, filled with meaningless words. I separate, stack, and staple. Eight hours a day. At the end of my shift, I gather my packets and pass them to Pete in the next cubicle.
Pete is the ‘Un-stapler.’
This story was inspired not only by the great George Orwell’s 1984, but also by a photo prompt posted on Friday Fictioneer’s , a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less. Photo Prompt provided by Clare Sheldon
© A Mixed Bag 2011
Danielle was enchanted by the dragonflies dashing about her head. The small creatures, zooming from place to place, captivated her attention. Quick as lightning, she could barely keep her eyes on them. How she wished she could touch one. Danielle extended her finger in the air. Immediately, one of the elegant creatures rested on the tip.
“Quickly Joe, take a photo.”
Using his iPhone, her brother Joe captured several shots before the dragonfly flew away.
Later that day, Danielle visited her Grandmother and showed her the photo of her and the dragonfly.
“Just call me the mother of dragon…flies.” Dany laughed at her own joke.
“You come by it naturally, my dear,” said her grandmother. “I am the mother of dragons, and these small creatures are nothing less than the remains of those great beasts.”
Dany noticed her grandmother was reading Game of Thrones again. For as long as she could remember, Grandma Dany claimed to be the real Daenerys Targaryen, brought to this world on the back of very own dragon. Her parents told her this was nothing more than the delusions of an old woman, but Dany knew better. The truth was living in the basement below.
Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a short, 200-word story inspired by a photograph. This week’s photo was provided by A Mixed Bag.
As a side note, writer’s write from their own experience and this story is no exception. There is always a little truth to the writer’s story. As reader, it is up to you to sort between fantasy and fact.
© Spauldis 2017
Photo Prompt by Rochelle Wisoff–Fields
Kerri stared down the dark, narrow alleyway. What to do?
She left the party on foot, needing to clear her head. Now tired, all she wanted was to sleep off the effects of the alcohol. The alley was a shortcut.
Halfway through, Kerri stopped. Were those footsteps behind her? Overwhelmed by fear, Kerri quicken her pace. The pounding footfall of her pursuer echoed in her ears. Reaching the exit safely, a defiant Kerri turned around, and saw nothing in the darkness.
That is when she felt the wire across her neck, slowly tightening.
This story was inspired by a photo prompt posted on Friday Fictioneer’s June 30, 2017, , a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less. Photo Prompt provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
Dalia anxiously waited for the call she feared would never come. Nearby, the detectives huddled in a circle. Were they talking about Steffen, she wondered, or just shooting the breeze. For 10 hours, they speculated as to why Steffen abandoned his car on the bridge after a minor accident. Dalia’s head pounded from the incessant questioning.
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz
What did she know that she was not telling them, they demanded.
Tight in her hand, Dalia held the tattered reminder of their pledge; a binding agreement made when they first came to America: Protect Yourself. Say Nothing.
And she wouldn’t.
This story was inspired by Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers, a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less based on a photo prompt. To join in and to read the other stories, take a look here
Photo by Sarah Potter
It started as a childish prank. Go to the old Miller house and enter through the sunroom. The wooden desk stood in the corner. Nick your finger with a knife, just enough for a few drops of blood, and trace your initials on the desktop. The blood pack guaranteed a carefree adolescence, or minimally, a date to the prom.
What they don’t tell you, however, is the pact binds you forever to an insatiable spirit. With each passing year, the demands grow greater. Breaking the pact was not an option.
He thought of this as he stalked his next victim.
This story was inspired by a photo prompt posted on Friday Fictioneers, a weekly challenge to write a complete story in 100 words or less. Check out other great stories or submit your own at Friday Fictioneer’s June 9 2017
photo credit: A Mixed Bag
The Director held the phone in his hand and considered his next move. The events of the past few days unnerved him in ways he never thought possible. During his 25-year tenure with the agency, he had learned the secrets of the rich and powerful. He knew what men, and women, were capable of when push came to shove. But this man; he was ruthless. He would stop at nothing to salvage his legacy.
Do you really want to do this, Jimbo?
In the corner of his office was a chess board. As a boy, the Director mastered the game and in return learned one of life’s most valuable lessons: always look beyond the next move. He out-maneuvered his opponent so far. With this phone call, the game would be over.
His contact answered promptly and agreed to the Director’s request. He called his wife and told her the car would be there in 10 minutes, taking her to safety. Before he left, he looked at his office for the last time.
This is the right thing to do.
They arrested him as soon as he stepped through the door. He would go quietly.
Smiling, he thought to himself, check-mate.