Category Archives: Fiction

Photo copyright – Adam Ickes

She went shopping with her mother.

He went for drinks after work.

A sexy stranger. A drunken kiss. The wrong witness. Word spreads.

On the pier where he’d proposed six weeks earlier, everything comes undone.

The ring hits his chest, slips between the planks. Plop.

Gravel pelts his shins as her Mustang roars away.

Was she blinded by tears or the lights of the oncoming semi?

He shucks his boots, dives into the evening-calm water, wonders if the gloom of the lake floor is anything like her coma.

Prays if he finds the ring, maybe she, too, will finally resurface.

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I’m desperately trying to find my fiction groove again–my muse has been AWOL for weeks–no cards, no letters, no phone calls. There was finally a tiny spark of something when I saw this week’s photo prompt for the Friday Fictioneers, so I snatched at it and actually managed to churn out a 100-word story.

Photo copyright Kent Bonham

“Really?” Bethann raised a manicured eyebrow in disdain. “Never mind, I see Gina. I must go and say hello.”

“For Chrissakes, Jen, officers’ wives are worse than the bitchiest girls I ever knew in high school. There are more trip hazards in a conversation at these Navy luncheons than in any dark alley.”

“Yeah, it can be tricky,” Jen replied, watching over the rim of her Chardonnay as Gina and Bethann cut glances at them from across the room. “If your husband doesn’t get put up for promotion, at least you’ll know which topics are off-limits at the Christmas luncheon!”

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One hundred words for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers! Check out Rochelle’s site for more great entries or to play along yourself.

Photo copyright Janet M. Webb

“Have you seen my baby? My baby? Have you seen him? Sir? SIR!? Did you see someone take my baby? He was right here in the cart. I just bent down to get a case of soda and now he’s gone. WHERE’S MY BABY?”

“Ma’am, I’m the store manager. You’re causing quite a scene. Other customers are frightened. What seems to be the problem?”

“My baby! He’s missing! Someone’s taken my baby! Please! Help me! Ryan! RYYYANNNN!!!”

Leanne sat bolt upright in the inky pre-dawn gloom, sweaty sheets tangled around her bulging abdomen.

I’m going to be a terrible mom.

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Exactly 100 words for this weeks’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt. 

Photo copyright Sandra Crook

In the darkness of the wings, Marcellus was nearly swept up as the tsunami of the third grade chorus rushed offstage, trailing nervous energy and holiday anticipation in its wake. Tugging one final time at his tie, the young soloist moved toward his center-stage mark. Stabbed by the spotlight as the curtain rose, Marcellus felt his stomach churn violently and sucked in a breath, certain his chicken nuggets were about to make an encore appearance. Instead, the purest, clearest notes spilled from his lips, immediately stilling fidgety parents impatient to get home before the roads iced over. ”O holy night…”

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Honestly, I’m not trying to rush the season in this little story for Friday Fictioneers, but the lone figure on the “stage” at L’Amphitheatre des Trois Gauls (Lyon, France) in Sandra’s photo this week made me think of elementary school Christmas pageants.