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Tag Archives: Friday Fictioneers
Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Flash Fiction Story: The Dress with the Tennis Racquets Stamped All Over It
The Dress with the Tennis Racquets Stamped All Over It
“Takes you back, don’t it, ol’ bandstand.”
She laughed. “Remember the night we crawled under and it was already occupied?”
“Billy and Lorraine.”
“Lorraine anyway, could have been any of the boys. She broke ‘em in like wild horses.”
“Except you.” Continue reading
The Elfin Ladder
“Look, fairy tables!”
“Agaricus arvensis, darling – horse mushrooms.”
“Safe to eat?”
“If they smell of aniseed.”
“Look, an elfin ladder!” Continue reading
What can I do but follow? I’m an old dog now and they’re my home. Wherever they go, I go with them.
It’s been like this, since … Ceaselessly wandering, my humans. They have no choice, but that’s long forgotten, except for cellular memories, urging.
They call it many things, the restlessness. Career move. Downsizing. Looking for a better life. Continue reading
The Shadowfall Quilt
She’d stitched many quilts. They’d gone to the four corners. She needed now to put away her needle and decided on one final quilt, to represent her life.
In her quilting chair on the veranda, she dreamt. The house across the way was staring at her. From its long black door, a voice said, “the sun never knew how wonderful it was until it fell on the wall of a building.” Continue reading
DS Squared Et Cetera
“Lovely approach to her tomb.”
“The pathways are dead ends.”
She looked. “Meaning?”
“Legend says the maze symbolised the unbridgeable divide between the living and the dead.”
“Why have you brought me here?” Continue reading
Every Friday writers worldwide gather round the virtual fireside of Rochelle Wisoff and share stories of 100 words, prompted by a common photograph, and exchange constructive criticism. You don’t have to write to read. Click on the blue frog at … Continue reading
The boat had grounded in the half-shadows of a willow. The wild flapping of the flag on the mast had drawn his attention.
“I thought it a trapped bird. Strange flag.”
“A tapestry,” she said.
“A madwoman’s creation, Elaine.”
“Mad? Look, here is the moon’s reflection, shattered by the water. Here, the sun, sharded. Here, the stars, broken, all reflected in her mirror.” Continue reading
His parents didn’t come to the wedding; their gift a garish orange dinner service – cheap fairground prize won long ago.
“Carnival glass is collectable these days,” Adi had said, generously, adding,“they’ll come round. Patience.” Continue reading