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-Garden of Stone

I stand in the garden of stone at the south end of our estate, home to the ancestors that came before. An array of gray monuments stand tall around me, stained by years of harsh winters; baked by summer sun.

The air contains the tang of autumn, and the ground beneath me is freshly turned. The heels of my shoes sink into the earth as I remember your struggle to stay alive.

You said you’d fight, and you did. You said you’d beat it, but you didn’t.

My task now is to grieve, and find a way to carry on.

Genre: Romantic Tragedy (?)

Word count: 100!!!!

Thank you Ms. Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting this wonderful photo prompt called Friday Fictioneers. I just love when a story rolls out of my head in a matter of minutes. Not sure if you’ll like it, but at least I tried.

Please go to Ms. Wisoff-Fields page to read the multitude of other flash fiction posted by her and other WordPress writers.

 

 

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.

Friday Fictioneers-Destruction

PHOTO PROMPT – © Copyright Jean L. Hays

The virus leveled us. Well, most of us anyway. What was left of humanity wasn’t very human anymore…

There was no such thing as comfort, or down time. Survivors were on the constant hunt for supplies and food. Mandy was tired and more than once thought of putting the cold pistol to her head and ending it. She had no idea what stopped her. Maybe it was hope that there was something more to life than survival.

Pockets filled with ammo and a motorbike humming between her legs, she set out on Route 66, hoping to find a life after decimation.

Genre: Post Apocalyptic Fiction/100 words

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.