Tag Archives: mystery and suspense

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


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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


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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


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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


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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.