Tag Archives: Friday Fictioneers

Photo copyright Douglas M. MacIlroy

“Let’s go, kid,” the editor’s two-pack-a-day growl floated through the mailroom. “I know you’re thirstin’ for a spot on the news beat.  You can get your feet wet at the mayor’s press conference.”

Minutes later, my raised hand was acknowledged among the throng of reporters.

“Mr. Mayor, you’ve endorsed a citywide ban on sandboxes as a result of Tuesday’s tragic incident, but sandboxes didn’t hurt those children, sir, the bully who flung the sand caused the harm. What is your response to those who say a ban on sandboxes infringes on the rights of the children who use them responsibly?”

Hmm, I see a thirsty horse standing in a puddle of his own making; could my story have a more tenuous link to this week’s photo prompt from Friday Fictioneers?  🙂

Photo copyright Lora Mitchell

I admit to having trouble figuring out where this photo from the Friday Fictioneers challenge was going to take me. I wasn’t able to totally (or even partially) let go of a literal interpretation of the photo as Rochelle encouraged, although I gladly ignored that little video icon in the top left corner  🙂

Laura’s Sunday evenings were normally a time of frustrated anxiety, and one this dreary had been known to reduce her to tears of self-pity. No matter how ruthlessly she restricted her social calendar, there were never enough hours in a weekend to grade all the papers or plan all the lessons. Tonight however, a strangely serene Laura pointedly ignored the school bag in the corner. The lily her parents had sent silently chastised her for not attending Easter Mass this morning, but Laura’s prayers of gratitude did not require a priest’s guidance. Thank you, Lord. Thank you for spring break.

Photo Copyright Jennifer Pendergast

Above me, in the glare of the light, my parents urge me with outstretched hands to join them, but the drama in the lobby below halts my upward progress. The concierge frantically punches numbers into the phone.  Guests circle the blue-lipped man on the marble floor. Smartphones capture the hotelier pounding the prone man’s chest. Suddenly, I lose my grip on the railing and am pulled violently downwards. Gasping for breath, I look up into a sea of curiously concerned faces. I trace a trail of drool from my chin to a complimentary mint lying wetly on my aching chest.

This is my second attempt at a Friday Fictioneers challenge, and after an hour of editing, I finally managed to pare it down to exactly 100 words! Hopefully I didn’t pare out the entire plot in the process…

If you’d like to read other authors’ responses to this photo prompt, click on the blue froggy guy below.

Photo Copyright Beth Carter

Dad was a picker way before picking was cool, and the summer I turned ten, I was finally old enough to ride along. By the end of August, I had scrounged enough trash from piles tossed under porches, behind sheds, and around the carcasses of rusted out Fords to create the hippest playhouse in the neighborhood. Billy Peters was so impressed he forgot girls have cooties and crowned himself king of my cast-off castle. Fifty years on, I remain Billy’s queen, and our greatest treasure is our grandchildren’s voices drifting to us from the ragged remains of our childhood thrones.

Today I’ve accepted the challenge of the Friday Fictioneers, a group of authors who craft a 100-word story based on a new photograph each week.