Friday Fictioneers-Immersion Therapy


“What the hell are we doing here?”

“It’s called Immersion Therapy.”

“For what? Clowns? I’m frightened of sharks and deep water, you idiot.”

“I thought you said clowns.”

“You know, this just proves that you do not listen to me.”

John touches her arm, “I’m sorry.”

Maggie pushes him away, “no, you’re not.”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“Even if you’d gotten my irrational fear correct, I’d never agree to this shit!”

Maggie’s words still hung in the air, and John knew their relationship was over. She didn’t want to get better, and he didn’t want to help her anymore.

100 words/Genre: general fiction

Click here, to find out more about Immersion Therapy.

Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers. Please be sure to go to her page and read the stories from other writers. We are a rather eclectic group. I welcome kudos and criticism. Bring it on!

Have a great weekend.

52 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers-Immersion Therapy

  1. Pingback: Friday Fictioneers 100-Word Story Challenge: The Ostrich | Poetic Mapping: Walking into Art

    • Sorry it hit you in the heart Troy. I’m glad you liked it. I’m not to happy with it. But sometimes we aren’t. Looking forward to reading yours.

      Love, Renee

  2. I know it wasn’t a funny story but after I read the title and then saw the picture, I was already laughing. Lack of communication in a relationship is anything but humorous, though.

    Have a wonderful weekend.


    • It was an interesting story to write. Some could think it was funny. Or sad. I guess it depends on where you are in a relationship. Thank you for your comment. Have a good weekend yourself honey.

      Love, Renee

  3. Ouch, that last line is painful. I’m wondering how he could mistake sharks for clowns. If he didn’t listen, why did he want to help? I imagine this pair are going to be better off apart from each other.

    • It’s an odd story. Not sure where it came from. The irrational fear of sharks is mine. I can’t even look at photos of them. I scream. I’m downright terrified by them.

  4. You create the most painful characters, darling… you should compile them all in a collection and call it Dysfunctional.
    But darling, don’t you just put the “fun” in dysfunctional?

    • My darling Helena, my characters reflect parts of me, family, friends and a host of others. The majority of them are kind of fucked up. I love the idea for the book though. xoxoxoxxoxoxoxox

  5. Pingback: Praise from Caesar – The Dilettante Edition, June 15, 2013 | Being the Memoirs of Helena Hann-Basquiat, Dilettante.

  6. Dear Renee,

    As you may have guessed, my work schedule has made it nearly impossible for me to read until today.

    A therapist who doesn’t listen. Time to look elsewhere.

    A couple of technical things (let me know if you tire of me doing this) The line “For what, clowns?” It reads as if she’s speaking to the clowns. Perhaps. “For what? Clowns?”
    And…you have a tense change. You start us in present tense and then end in past. Seems to me it would flow better if you chose one tense or the other.

    In any case a good story and unique take on the prompt. As for subject and family…what would we write about if we came from The Village of the Happy People? Boring!



    • Hello my dear,

      I don’t ever tire of your criticisms and suggestions. Please, I need all the help I can get. I was wondering about using two separate sentences and question marks, and now I know. I do have a tendency to mix up my tenses. I’ll make the necessary changes.

      Happy to know you liked the story. I don’t want my characters to be perfect. I like them messed up. I write happy when writing romance. As for the rest of my stories, bring on the screws ups. They are so much more fun to write about.



      • Dear Renee,

        You’re on the right track. Perfect characters make for a dull read. They should be bigger than life and dysfunctional as hell.

        You are a joy to critique because of your desire to write. I just don’t want you to think that I come around to nitpick. Not my intention.


        (Be it ever so dysfunctional, there’s no place like ehmo.)

      • Oh honey, bring on the critiques. I need all the help I can get. As for my desire to write, it’s like breathing to me. It’s all I want to do. You of all people understand that. Nitpick away.

        I’m doing my very best to put the “fun” in dysfunctional. Giggle.

        Always, Renee

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