Category Archives: story

Tea for One

It’s been a while since I did one of these…successfully; two drafts, didn’t meet quality standards, and… didn’t quite have the internet access to put the second up anyway.  But I’m back to try again!  Hopefully this entry isn’t too bad.  Enjoy.

100 words


[emmylgant.jpg]
Photo Copyright © Emmy L. Gant

“Glad you came,” Jason said, with a hug.  “It’s been a while since we last talked.”

“Too long,” responded B.B.  “So… you’re out.”

He evaded her comment.  “What’s going on in your world?”

“Still seeing it; two continents left.”

Jason’s smile faded.  He’d much forgotten the world she sees.  He put a tea bag in his glass… just a frame, she noticed— neither glass nor water.

An alarm rang.  He turned, revealing blood on his shirt.  “Let’s go.”

“Is that— ?”

“I had to take care of a few… things.”

B.B. soon realized what he meant by “invading aliens.”


For context, I saw the buildings in the background, plus the odd object in the foreground, and thought: asylum… escapee… (I get it, the object in the foreground is actually a trash can, no table.  But… use your imagination 😉 )

Every week, Rochelle hosts a group called Friday Fictioneers; the goal: write, for an image, a three-part short story at no more than one hundred words.  Click here to see what others have written for this week’s prompt or add your own.

Be sure to check out Rochelle’s televised interview! 🙂

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Monday Engagement

It’s been two months away from the Friday Fic, and it appears I now have to sign up for something… oh, it’s just a constructive crit subgroup. …It’s hard enough reading as it is, with my broekn brain… Well, on with the micro-story.  Enjoy. 🙂

100 words


[bay-windows.jpg]
Photo Copyright © C.E. Ayr

It was incredible.  One mistake, and I wouldn’t know till Tuesday whether I was still employed.

Behind the wheel, I turned the key.  Nothing.  In the parking lot, thankfully.

One jump-start later, I was good… until the SUV, out of nowhere.  Then my car failed again.

You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I popped the hood.  Only my right hand was good, so off went the engagement ring… and into the grate.

Shit!

It was no use.

I told Alex, and he went crazy, ranting about how women ‘can’t be trusted,’ ‘shouldn’t have jobs’…

…I’m so grateful for that day.


Every week, Rochelle hosts a link-up where the objective is: a three-part story, at most 100 words, for a picture prompt by week’s end.

Click here to see what others have written or add your own take for the prompt.

Away from the Everyday Normal

Well, it’s the weekend, and I wrote another little microstory.  Did I use the prompt to add to the “infinitely growing story arc”?  Yes… but I wanted something different, something specific.  So I actually wrote two.  One, finished on time but unpublished; the other, today. …And, of course, I’m not satisfied.  Enjoy.
Continue reading Away from the Everyday Normal

Dizzy but Determined

Time for more weekend fiction!  You excited?  No? …Well, at least I called it ‘weekend’ fiction to excuse my tardiness.  Friday Fiction, weekend fiction— whatever it’s called, feel free to enjoy it and criticize it. …And also, if you could, feel free to give me awards, a limo, a million dollars… just kidding.

Here’s the last entry in case you get lost with this.

100 words


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Photo Copyright © Claire Fuller

Tuesday, I couldn’t remember how I got home; it was dusk, and I realized: I was losing time.  I felt like my memories were being snatched and locked away. …It also occurred to me, I’ll likely need a ton of therapy once this was all over.

Wednesday, after dealing with a student I once told to “eat me,” I dragged Sam with me back to the antique shop.

Dizzy but determined, I said to Mr. Timberland, “Last time, purple bottle, here…”  I motioned toward the far wall.  Then the weirdest thing happened: he said he never had such a bottle.


Every week Rochelle hosts a link-up, where the objective is: a three-part story, at most 100 words, for a picture prompt by week’s end.

Click here to see what others have written or add your own take for the prompt.

A Gift that Keeps on Giving

Friday Fiction time!

100 words


[demolition-4.jpg]
Photo Copyright © C.E.Ayr

A crackling sound caught my attention.  Flashes outside revealed clouds.  But it wasn’t lightning.  And there, I noticed: parts of the ground were missing.

Windows vibrated.  Dust billowed.

Suddenly, I knew where I was… but it was too late.  Floors gave, ceilings caved.

I awoke, chest pounding.

“Remi,” a voice spoke my name.

I turned, I saw no one.  I had it.  “Who are you?  What do you want with me?!!”

Dogs barked.  Lights came on.  I must’ve roused the whole neighborhood.

Despite everything, Sam wouldn’t believe.  I felt so… alone.  I cried.  And there, I felt that… otherworldly feeling…


…Yes, I worked another prompt into my “infinitely growing” story arc.

Every week Rochelle hosts a link-up, where the objective is: a three-part story, at most 100 words, for a picture by week’s end.

Click here to see what others have written or add your own story.

Another Name, Scratched

Another late round of Fiction.  Hosted by Rochelle, the objective is: a three-part story, at most 100 words, for the picture by week’s end.

The image was surprisingly easy to work in to my on-going supernatural “mystery and suspense” of two siblings accidentally unleashing something wicked.

Well, be sure to visit the Friday Fic link-up see what others have written, or add your own.  And it goes without saying, choosing to continue from anything you’ve written before is completely optional, and may actually be bending the rules… Also…I don’t think I’ve ever seen a green moth before.

100 words


[moths.jpg]
Photo Copyright © Madison Woods

“I killed her.”  Not something you’d expect to hear at a McDonald’s.

“What?” gestured Sam.  He couldn’t speak, but he could… my phone buzzed… text.  “What r u on?”

“Last year, I stood up to her.  I told her… ‘die in a fire.’  And now it happened.”

“How?”

“That purple bottle, when I told you… to shut up.”  I nearly slammed my head onto my cheeseburger.

Sam shook his head in disbelief.

Mere minutes later, Ben, my ex, “got bent.”  Backward.  Holy Moses.

“I didn’t know such a thing was possible,” said Mom.

I knew I had to do something…

Fog Rising

Another round of Friday Fic… late.  Hosted by Rochelle of Addicted to Purple, who is recuperating (get well, Rochelle!), the goal is to write a three-part short story — no more than a hundred words — for a picture prompt by week’s end.

…And, as typical, I wasn’t satisfied with my work.  Putting this up Sunday…fewer eyes on it.  Enjoy.

100 words


[moon-and-sky1.jpg]
Photo Copyright © Madison Woods

I dreamt of fog… a full moon lighting the darkness… an impossible darkness… I felt vindictive… I felt guilty.

The next thing I know, my brother was on the floor.  I must have blacked out.

“Sam?” I said.  “Sam.”  He just looked at me.

No one could figure it out.  Sam hadn’t a scratch on him, but he’d gone mute.  He shrugged when I asked why he was on the floor.

What happened next, Mom and Dad couldn’t possibly shield us.  Allison Parson— “mean-girl Allison”— had died in a fire.

Fire?  Then it hit me.  A chill spread throughout my body…


This is a continuation from last week’s story.

Click here to see what others have written, or add your own… before Tuesday.

Bottled Up

Welcome to Friday Fictioneers. Hosted by Rochelle of Addicted to Purple, people from all over the globe try at writing a three-part short story for a picture by week’s end. Short, that it’s also a goal to make it no more than one hundred words. This week’s image is from G.L. MacMillan.

Here’s my entry.

100 words


[in-the-light.jpg]
Photo Copyright © G.L. MacMillan.

We never knew Mr. Timberland had a collection of antique bottles.  I mean, antiques— yes, but bottles from another world?

“I wonder how some of these’d act on the range,” Sam said.

I scoffed.  “We are not shooting any of these!”

Mr. Timerland looked at us.

“I know,” Sam responded.  “…But still.”

Amid my astonishment of Sam’s eagerness to destroy things, one particular bottle caught my eye— purple, with unreadable markings.

“Maybe if you rubbed it, a genie would appear.”

“Shut up.”  But I was easily curious.  I rubbed it.  It popped open.

What happened next scarred me for life…


Click here to see what others have written, or add your own.  Click here to get the inLinkz code.

For the Love of… coffee

Welcome to yet more Friday Fiction!  Hosted by Rochelle of Addicted to Purple, people from all over the world try at writing a three-part short story for a picture prompt by week’s end.  And also make it no more than a hundred words total.  This week’s image is from Dee, over at 40again’s Blog.

Click here to see what others have written for the prompt, or add your own.

Okay.  Let me formally apologize for not being here much at this point, save the Fictioneers writes.  But I’ve still got stuff in store, processing photos for more exposure of Summer… rather large images given my decreasing intolerance for JPEG loss.  But until I get all that up, here’s Bill and Ed’s ordinary adventure… Enjoy.

100 words


[unnamed.jpg]
Photo Copyright © Dee Lovering

“Why do we exist?” Bill asked boldly, as he stood in the cold, hands in his pockets.

Edward, sitting, chuckled.

But Bill wasn’t joking.  “Seriously.  I mean, I get the history of survival, and all, but… with all the things we do?  All these millennia, tempting fate, with war and famine?”

Ed wondered where Bill was going.

“We can be the most unproductive species, and yet…”  Bill stared off into space.

“Bill, what does asking you if you wanted coffee have to do with the existence of humanity?”

Bill pointed back.  “Exactly.  Coffee.”

Five years later, they lived on coffee.


According to a recent study conducted by Nutrition and Dietetics at Harokopio University in Athens, the anti-oxidant and anti-inflammatory effects of habitual coffee drinking may lower your risk of type-2 diabetes by 54%.

This has nothing to do with what I wrote given I heard of the study hours after I finished… but there you go.