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- Covehithe Ochres and Gissing Whites: Hand-Made Paints from Foraged Pigment November 2, 2019
- Indeterminacy: The Blueberry Interlude: Cold Dyeing with Blueberry Stems October 15, 2019
- More Notes from a Melody Not Yet Written October 14, 2019
- Notes from a Melody Not Yet Written October 13, 2019
- Liminal Space, the Prepared Piano and Indeterminacy – a Quick Note to Myself and Anybody Reading October 5, 2019
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Tag Archives: Rochelle Wisoff
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
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
Every Friday authors worldwide gather round the virtual fireside of Rochelle Wisoff and share stories of 100 words, prompted by a common photograph, and exchange constructive criticism. Readers’ comments are also welcome. This week’s photo has been provided by Kent Bonham. Thanks, Kent. Your photo inspired the following very late entry from me this week.
That was Tod. We were in a junk shop, hunting for stuff to ‘upcycle’.
“Plaque.” I showed him.
“‘Souvenir of Cornwall,’” he read out loud. It was printed beneath a postcard. To its right was a slot for a photo. Continue reading
Parked and Hitched
“Driver parked the truck and vanished.”
“Abducted by aliens.”
We roared with laughter. The waitress glared.
“My ancestor ran off to California – gold rush era. Just disappeared.” Continue reading
A goat took up residence in a corner.
“He can’t live here.”
“His belly’ll tell him.”
Press came; religious groups offering garlands, money. Animal militants smashed windows. Continue reading