Friday Fictioneers-Frank Lloyd Wright and the Rebel

Copyright-Roger Bultot

Genre: General fiction mixed with a memory

The walls are curved and so stark you’d think they were white washed. I’m touring with teenagers that are acting like surly children. Finally, I’ve had enough and I plod back to the main floor past works of art the children do not care to see.

The artwork begs for my attention, yet I’m too exhausted to look. I just want two minutes to myself.  I lift my eyes upward and become entranced.

The lobby docent utters, “no photos are to be taken here”.  Standing in the center of the room, I smile and click the camera on my phone.

Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers. I know I haven’t written anything in awhile, but I’m working everyday to change that. I’m always glad to hear your feedback and have your support.

Friday Fictioneers-Serenity

 

When he left her, Emily retreated to the woods in a ramshackle hut without running water or electricity. She hoped the solitude would kill her, or that the lack of sound would at least deafen her. However, it only made her instincts keener and her will stronger.

For sustenance, she hunted the woods and fished the lake. She wrote her manuscript by the light of day, and continued writing by firelight until long after the sun set. The mewling of the coyotes sang her to sleep each night.

Emily thought she had found serenity, but then he reappeared.

98 words

Genre: General Fiction

Thank you Rochelle Wisoff Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers. I don’t write much anymore but when the stories come, they come quickly and I have to reach out and grab them before they get away.

I’m unsure of the cadence of this story, or if it even makes sense. I take any and all criticism or kudos.

 

 

Friday Fictioneers-Crickets and the Chill of Fall

It’s where I thought we’d sit at night, to hear the crickets till they were silenced by the chill of fall. We’d sit together fireside, while your fingertip traced lazy circles in my palm.

I’m not an outdoorsy girl, but the fire sounded nice, while seated on a bench fashioned from a felled oak in the backyard. All that’s left of us now are the stump and a few fleeting memories of the plans we had.

With my coat buttoned against the cold, I head out to meet the handyman that will finish the work that your leaving left behind.

Genre: Romance, I think

Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers. The stories don’t come too often for me, but when they do they come quickly and I just have to grab them! Please feel free to critique my work as I’m always open to suggestions for writing better stories.

Friday Fictioneers-In the High Heat of Summer and Blood

In the heat of summer, we began cleaning my deceased great grandmother’s home. Heavy with pregnancy, I pulled the old shoes from the bottom of the armoire. I felt overwhelmed by the chore and my grief of losing her before Adam was born. Sweat slid down my swollen belly as I filled the first box of many. Old shoes were easy to throw out, but what about the the other antiques? The baby kicked while I worked. Then the nosebleed began. Blood poured down my shirt and the old shoes. Distressed, I pinched my nostrils, and ran outside for relief.

100 words exactly!

Genre: autobiographical, memory, hell I don’t know.

Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers. I’m happy as heck to be inspired to write again. I’m hoping that this priming of the pump will cause the words and stories to flow for me again. Dear Readers, please go to Rochelle’s site to read all of the entries.

Have a terrific day!

Friday Fictioneers-August Heat

The young vet sat across from the crumbled building. The August heat soared, and  concrete burned through his fatigues and t-shirt. In his right hand he held a cup for ‘donations’, and with his left he wiped his damp brow.

Concert goers walked past, paying him no mind. Their only mission to pregame before the big event. Except for one pretty woman, but not ‘pretty’ in the traditional sense. Her smile made him shiver and her blue eyes he could’ve drowned in.

She handed him a ‘fiver’, then to his surprise, sat down beside him.

Hi, she said, I’m Michaella.

 

This is my first entry in Friday Fictioneers in forever. I’m forcing myself to get back to writing after dealing with some major heartbreak. I’m tying to post at least one story a week, but if the words start flowing again, I’m hoping to post a few times a week.

Thank you Rochelle for hosting this wonderful prompt. I’m so glad to be back in it again. Please be assured I’m ready for all constructive criticism.

Hope you all have a wonderful day!

 

Friday Fictioneers-A Field of Stone

 

There we were, me and Sis holding our sleeping bags. My mother, her body shaking with grief and little nourishment, told us to unroll our bags. Fearing she was close to her breaking point, we did as she instructed.

Ignoring us, Mom leaned against Daddy’s grave. Sis slipped in next to me, and I held her close. Running my fingers through her knotted hair, it smelled faintly of little girl and chilly air. Too late in the season for crickets to sing her to sleep, Sis drifted off quickly.

Sleeping in a field of stone, unfortunately had become our routine.

 

100 words/genre: dramatic fiction

Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers. I’m doing my best to become inspired again and this photo for some reason did it for me. Please be sure to give me constructive criticism and read the other stories that are posted on Rochelle’s page. Have a great weekend everyone.

Love, Renee

Friday Fictioneers-He Prayed Before Kings

 “My God sent his angel, and he shut the mouths of the lions. They have not hurt me, because I was found innocent in his sight. Nor have I ever done any wrong before you, O king.” (Daniel 6:22, NIV)

Moonlight sprinkled on the golden manes of the ferocious beasts. Blood from previous victims painted the walls and bones laid scattered on the stone floor.

The lions lifted their snouts to devour the scent of the old man standing in the middle of them. His hands were raised to Heaven as he prayed in tongues that these Kings could not decipher.

As the night wore on, Daniel continue to pray, but the creatures remained docile. And their mouths stayed closed.

As morning light glinted upon the fur of the sleeping lions, the old man knew his God had saved him.

100 words/Genre: Biblical Fiction

Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers. I’ve been out of the game for a long time because I’ve been lazy and not very inspired. The last two weeks have found me excited to write again. I hope you like the story. Please know that I expect criticism and kudos. Or just plain old criticism. Have a great day everyone. xoxoxoxoxox

Friday Fictioneers-Renderings of a Bygone Era

Old Cadillac cars stand at attention. An artist’s rendering of a bygone era. Could it be all the spray paint that keeps those relics together?

People with a story to tell spray or paint their masterpieces. Stories of winning, and losing. Of good health and bad. Of dying children and spouses, or being a foot soldier in WWII.

My artwork is shoddy and I can barely draw stick figures. My art would be my words scrawled all over the hood of a car, that by God I’m still here! To hold my dear grandson, and to love yet another day.

 

100 words/Genre: general fiction

Thanks Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this exercise in discipline. It is a joy to work with you and have you comment on my work. Along with all of my other friends from Friday Fictioneers.

Dear Readers, be sure to check out the other stories found on the little froggy link on Rochelle’s page. Thanks for stopping by.

Friday Fictioneers-We Slept in Boxcars

My brother and I hopped a boxcar our destination unknown. Exhausted from the menial work performed that day, we laid close to the open door. Steel wheels whined a familiar lullaby as we studied the stars.

I thought about our past life with Mom and Dad, before the depression. We had left before they put us out.

‘Do you wonder where they are?’ Jack asked.

‘No’, I lied.

Jack sobbed into my shoulder then fell into a restless sleep. Before I drifted off, my mind wandered to Sunday dinner at the farm and Mom pulling freshly baked biscuits from the oven.

101 words/Genre: hmmmmm I have no idea

Thanks Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this exercise in discipline. It is a joy to work with you and have you comment on my work. Along with all of my other friends from Friday Fictioneers.

Dear Readers, be sure to check out the other stories found on the little froggy link on Rochelle’s page. Thanks for stopping by.

Friday Fictioneers-Wandering Dog and Jagged Rocks

Copyright-Dawn Quyle Landau

The leaves surrounding them were lush, but the dirt path parched and beaten down. Jagged rocks jutted from the ground aside the train tracks made shiny by years of use.

Michaella bent over, tied her boots and released a heavy sigh.

You okay, love? Damon asked.

Nervous as hell.

The hike is going to be great.

She tried not to doubt him as she doused her skin with deet, then rubbed a bit on their dog’s coat.

Damon strapped on her pack, “you lead the way.”

You sure?

Never been more sure in my life, he winked.

100 words

Genre: General Fiction

 

Thanks Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this exercise in discipline. It is a joy to work with you and have you comment on my work. Along with all of my other friends from Friday Fictioneers.

Dear Readers, be sure to check out the other stories found on the little froggy link on Rochelle’s page. Thanks for stopping by.