House Ghost

copyright – Sarah Potter

“The building was designed by Irish-born architect James Hoban in the neoclassical style in..”

“Do we have a sighting today?”

The guide sighed.  He was used to being interrupted all the time by impatient tourists these days.  None were interested in the classical inspiration sources of the building.  The intrigues, the politics and the power play.  All they wanted was a sighting.

“Yes I am told we have one.  Follow me.”

 

The group followed in heightened excitement.  The sighting was worth the price of admission.

It was after all the one that never left – the Ghost of the President Past.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

To read the other writers this week click here

Hello there once again.   Back after a while again.  No Presidents were harmed during the writing of this story.  A purely fictional story but then truth is stranger than fiction.

I am also doing Movember this year.  It's a great cause to raise funds for men's health.  Check out my Mo Space

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No Place Like Home

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

The tears were forming now. The short blue gingham dress and a white shirt with puff sleeves were not really the clothes to wear for the classes but then the class had decided that the morning tea celebrations for Mr Paul would feature a fancy dress competition too. 

So easy for Dorothy to tap the red slippers and turn around three times and reach home in an instant.

Dorothy had probably never lost her locker keys and found herself in an embarrassing dress. 

The boys would be coming in soon. How he wished he had chosen the cowboy outfit instead.

***

Partly inspired by an event in school eons ago.  In the boarding school each dormitory had its own party at the end of the term.  We had one for our dormitory and there was a fancy dress event.  One of the boarders dressed up as a girl, it might have been Little Bo Peep, but when the time came to change it turned out he had lost the key to his locker.  Poor guy sat tearfully in the dress for a long time till we finally broke the latch and he could change.   Funny how some events stay in your mind for a long time.

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

To read the other writers this week click here

Crumbs

‘Nestled away in the lap of nature’ the blurb on the brochure is enough to entice me. Apparently this is where Instagrammers go for breakfasts.

Such a pretty spot and where can I find a better place to meet my colleague out of the workplace. We’ve both become so close to each other while working on this project.

So I text her asking if she would like to meet up for breakfast on Sunday.  She accepts and here I am waiting by the window.

She is here but who is this with her?

Your fiancé? So glad to meet you.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

I thought I'd make this a two-for-one deal and have a more light hearted approach after the first story -> Order Disorder.  

To read the other writers this week click here

Order Disorder

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

It was the neatness that he had objected to first. 

The daily folding of the clothes scattered by him in their bedroom. The picking up of used towels and dirty underwear from the bathroom and it soon escalated to cleanliness in the kitchen. 

The immaculate dining table always covered with a tablecloth with the salt and sugar shakers in the same place cutting off the necessity of asking where things were kept. 

 So when his dirty secret was uncovered it was clear that all the anger against order and neatness was just a reaction from his dirty disorganised private life.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

After writing this I felt that I needed to balance it with a second light hearted story.  That can be read here -> Crumbs.

To read the other writers this week click here

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Love Boat

In 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue. 

 Where are we going Christopher? 

 It’s a surprise mum, we are nearly there, I took a wrong turn back there otherwise we would reached by now. 

 Why are we at the marinara Christopher? 

 It’s a marina mum, marinara is a sauce. Over there do you see it? 

 That pink boat with the ‘for sale’ sign? Or the bicycle next to it? 

Both mum. 

 It’s a ladies cycle Chris, who is the lucky lady? 

 It’s you mum. The boat is for me. I am sailing to the Sydney Mardi Gras with my friend Pablo.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

My first thought was to increase the body count for the week.  The pink boat provides ample opportunity.  But in the end a dialogue only story for this week.

To read the other writers this week click here

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I See Weed

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Me mate Dazza was spewing.  One look at his face and I knew he was having a Barry Crocker. 

Normally Dazza is one of those fellows who rarely gets flustered by what’s thrown at him. It’s true that he isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed but as long as his simple needs are met he is a happy little vegemite.

Dazza mate, what’s up buddy? 

It’s that Bazza mate. 

But he is not here with us. 

Yeah but here we are stranded in bloody Woop Woop, all because he sold us a furphy about plentiful supply of weed here.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

To read the other writers this week click here

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Bucket List

PHOTO PROMPT © Rowena Curtin

They say the moment when the soul leaves the body the last thing the conscious mind experiences is a dazzling light. Words from survivors of near death experience, as no one has actually died and written about it. 

So this is death he thinks. Gone before experiencing life in all its glory, still to experience love and a broken heart. To travel and see the world. 

 The sharp stabbing pain at the base of his spine, is that the kundalini leaving his body? 

 Oye! Wake up you drunk, the guard gives him a kick to the base of his back.

 *** 

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

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Art Attack

Copyright Roger Bultot.

“So what do you think” I asked my friend, The Critic. 

 We were at the street art exhibition at the corner of Elizabeth and George Streets. The Critic was examining it with intense concentration . 

 “It's difficult to enter into this work because of the metaphorical resonance of the visual representation of the household trash and how it activates the distinctive formal juxtapositions.” 

 A council truck pulled up and men started picking up the exhibition items. 

 “Wow that’s a short exhibition,” I said. 

 “Exhibition? That’s at the corner of Elizabeth and Ann. We are here to pick up the garbage.”

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

To read the other writers this week click here

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Soul Trader

Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

People have always know about the shop, the rumours have floated over the centuries.

I can always spot the ones looking for it; they have that look, that little glint of desperation.

And then there are the hesitant ones, the undecided.  They hover around, eyes frantically trying to catch a glimpse of what's inside.  It's not my job to invite them, the desire must come from them, if they walk away there are always more.

I welcome those who step forward ignoring the signs on the door.  The wares I offer are worth the price of their souls.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

It is a two story week this time.  Here is my second contribution for the week Sign Police

To read the other writers this week click here

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Sign Police

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Here we go again, Burke and me sitting in a car watching the shop front opposite us. 

It’s just the nature of our work as undercover cops. Not the kind you see on the screen. The movies don’t give you the experience of the assault on your olfactory system when two guys sit in a car on a hot day.  

Burke is bored. 

 ‘Tomorrow my next look will be a Bessie in disguise’, he says. 

 ‘Go ahead. I never judge a cover by the book’ 

 ‘Can we raid them just for that sign?’ 

 ‘Sure we can be the Sign Police’

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

It is a two story week this time.  Here is my first contribution for the week Soul Trader

To read the other writers this week click here

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The Space Time Conundrum

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

He woke up with a throbbing headache.  He was in his bedroom but he had no recollection of coming home last evening.  Just faint memories of being with the Professor.

 

Time travel! He recalled imbibing Professor’s home brew while listening to theories about spacetime and wormholes. He was sceptical of Professor’s claims but couldn’t refuse the offer to time travel.

 

They had done it. He recalled being in a dim lit alley from 1920s.

 

His mother was in the room.

 

‘The cops said you and your friend had broken into the movie set.  Care to explain what happened young man.”

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

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Supernova

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

The first thing he notices is the absolute freedom of movement.  In the blink of an eye he stands exactly where he imagined himself to be.

 

His spirit guide smiles, he has seen this many times before but the unbridled joy of his wards still delights him.

 

We have but one rule, the guide states, you cannot exist in multiple places at the same time.

 

He sees himself on the trapeze, cartwheeling, somersaulting and standing at the same time. He glows suffused with an intense burst of energy.

 

Just one rule sighs the guide as he awaits the next disciple.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

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Forever Home

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

I always wanted to live in a house with a picket fence, one with wrap around verandas and a weatherboard look outside. Last week I was driving when I went past this house with a ‘for sale’ sign.

The moment I saw it I knew I had found my forever home so I went to take a look. I felt it calling, beckoning me. The gate swung open and the front door was unlocked. 

I’ve discovered that there are ten of us here still alive. It’s the susurration of our desperation that you hear as the house reels you in.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

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Brave New World

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright-Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

What’s that photo Grandpa?

Why that’s the downtown mall or what used to be a mall.

Why are there so many people there?

Oh, people always went to the malls, especially on the weekends and holidays.

Really what did they do?

Well just hung out I guess, did shopping, ate some food at the restaurants.  Just had a good time.

But didn’t they have online shopping and food delivered to their house?

Well you know those days you could go out if you wanted to. 

I don’t see any wearing masks.

Well fifty years ago the world was very different.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

So I wuz here the last time too.  Here is my entry from those days Immortality

To read the other writers click here

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Not A Muse

PHOTO PROMPT – © Jennifer Pendergast

I am in a world of train. What should I write ?

You could do a re-run of your old train-wreck of a story.

Someone seems to got up on the wrong side of the track today.

I thought with your track record...

Bless my coal I am the master of my own freight, but nice try at derailing me.

Me? You sir are perfectly capable of doing it on your own. Just go down the memory train.

That is a crazy thing to say, do you have a loco-motive? What did I do to get a muse like you?

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

It's true, the muse did not help this time.  I believe 'social distancing' was the excuse.  Also I did have an entry for this prompt the last time too.  You can read it Train Spotter

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Freedom

PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

Outside the garden is bathed in sunlight. I just stand at the door entrance and look at the sunshine filtering through the leaves. Sometimes like a child I look through the stained glass and imagine myself swimming in the ocean with dolphins.

Why do we get so much joy from watching a dolphin swimming in the wild? Seeing them gracefully leaping in and out of the surface of the water is a whole different experience than to watch them turning tricks in an amusement park.

One day I will defy my captor and escape from this caged apartment into freedom.

***

I recognised the photo prompt too, though I didn't realise that it has been seven years since I wrote for it originally.  When I write I always wonder if writing is alright and if I got it right.  This flash is new but but the original one is one my favourites and can be read here - The 'Port-All'

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

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Blue diligence

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The artist had a visitor early in the morning.

“Maestro”, said the visitor bowing deeply.

The artist sighed inwardly at the honorific.  In the beginning he used to argue that the word should be applied to musicians, now he just accepted it.

He looked at the prosperous looking man “So who do you want done?”

Fumbling the visitor took out a photo from his pocket and passed it.

The artist looked the matronly looking lady so typical of his recent high paying commissions.

“A home invasion or car accident? There is an extra cost if you want a messy end.”

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

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Going Postal

PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays

She was a stickler for ‘the proof’.  Any job carried out must be reported back with evidence that it was done. 

I had to do her bidding each time no matter how I felt about the mess that the task entailed.  Dukes, serfs or Prince of the realm were all the same to her.  

But this little child, she was different.  The rumours were true she was as beautiful as the light of day, more beautiful than the queen herself. Run young Snow I said.  A boar was sacrificed.  The place postal service did the rest.

Signed, sealed and delivered.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

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Restoration Task

PHOTO PROMPT @ A. Noni Mouse

She walked in the kitchen and contemplated the restoration task before her.

It was a stereotypical bachelor’s pad when she visited.  Unmade bed, clothes on the floor and dirty dishes in the sink.  Only his smile and the fact that he could converse had prevented her from leaving.  Her previous dates had been handsome but inarticulate men. She moved in with him even though it had been a mission to clean the house.

That relationship ended the moment he betrayed her with a stranger.

 Before she left, she restored the house to the same mess as she had found it.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

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Paved Paradise

PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

We were in the cab when the song came on.

“They paved paradise

Put up a parking lot”

I laughed and she turned to me with eyebrows raised.

“Coincidence much?  I chuckled, “We are on our way to the hotel and a swinging hot spot”.

She grimaced and inched away, we were on our way to a mandatory counselling session after her reluctant return.  

Outside the leaves were changing colours and in a matter of weeks would be gone.  How long would we last?

 Don't it always seem to go

That you don't know what you've got

'Til it's gone.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

I know that's not a parking lot and it may not be a yellow taxi, but why pass the opportunity to incorporate the words of loved song by a great artist.

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

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Egged On

PHOTO PROMPT © Todd Foltz

Long before he fell off a wall and scrambled himself, Humpty had made a quite a reputation as a stand up comic.

In those days members of his community were hard-boiled folks who would look down on anyone daring to be different.

Being born free range he begged to differ and would say there is no such thing as a bad yolk.

His eggsuberant spirit won over all those who doubted his ability to crack jokes. Chicks flocked to his performances.

Off the Wall TV show invited him to be a guest star. He accepted and you know the rest.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

I've missed a few entries these last few months.  It's not that I have a bad case of eggzema, I am always eggcited to take part, just work commitments are taking precedence over writing.  So this is my eggpress entry this week.  I hope it makes you cackle. 

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

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Chipping Away

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

He had always been the one for parties.

With his crisp looks he was a chip of the old block and a very popular one too despite his chequered background. There even had been talk of him being assaulted but that was just rumours spread by people trying to bag him.

He never blamed them, in fact he even defended them but that was due to his habit of playing the Devil’s Avocado. There was never a dip in his fortunes and he always had a cracker of a time.

Now the party is over and only the crumbs remain.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

And for a change an entry on the first day.  Do I feel punstoppable?

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

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Last Dance

PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

It was in April last year that the video of middle-aged man dancing around a fountain in a tutu went viral.   In a world where the human attention span is less than that of a goldfish, the Internet was flooded with memes as the video racked up over eight million hits.

 

Observers attributed its popularity to the location.  The fountain with a sculpted flower in the middle surrounded by gorgeously lit buildings. Others remarked on the happiness radiating from the dancer.

 

I blame the extra shots of tequila consumed that afternoon.  I am never showing my face in public again.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

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Cap-tivated

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields

A lesser-known fact about the Grim Reaper, he likes collecting headgear from his assignments. He also loves social media and hashtags, just keep an eye out for #GrimReaper #SoulCollector. And no he does not dress in a shroud and clutch a scythe these days. That would be a bit of a give away and a smartphone is a better choice now.

How do I know you ask? Well even the Reaper needs a housekeeper, you would be amazed at how unkempt the house was. All those cruise ships stuck in island paradise meant that the boss has been working overtime.

***

This 

This is a two for one weekend.  The first one is here Islands In the Stream.

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

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Islands In The Stream

PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields

Once more I bid you farewell. These past few weeks have been the best of my life. What we have had was beautiful and something many don’t get to experience over a lifetime.

Of course I am totally committed to you, even in this paradise I only had eyes for you. Those flowers stuck in my cap? You know how friendly everyone is, so probably just a sisterly gesture. Yes I do have lots of caps but I just can’t say no.

I would gladly stay but you know there are other islands to see and ports to sail into.

***

This is a two for one weekend.  The second one is here Cap-tivated.

Ah well, if the song is in the title then here it is, one of my favourites

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

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Since You Bin Gone

PHOTO PROMPT © C.E.Ayr

When are you emptying that terrorist bin of yours?

What terrorist bin Dad?

You know the one Bin Laden with trash that needs emptying.

That’s sad even by Dad joke standards.

Unknowingly I’d thrown out a challenge.

I wheelie bin trying to get rid of this rubbish but it’s piling on.

You never call home and you mother is worried.  Where you bin?

And now that old faded poster lies forlornly against the wall.  I didn’t throw it just to see what you would say.

Mom hands over a note.  He left it for you she says.

‘Dear poster child…’

***

Maybe I should have recycled a story for this week but I've not bin that busy

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

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Quixote

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

From the rooftop of his apartment block he gazes at the city skyline. In the distance the ferocious giants snakes upwards towards the clouds. The apartments in his once vibrant neighbourhood hemmed in by the giants as they march towards it.

The owners of the old apartments are leaving as the builders buy them out. There was a time when they all knew each other names, the rooftop not just a place to go up for a smoke; it was gossip central and even a rendezvous point for lovers.

Not him, he promises to stay and stage his last stand.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

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Chasing Rainbows

Copyright Jeff Arnold

They say that there is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.  We know it is a story and yet we want to believe it.

That rainbow is a symbol of our hope, dreams and the fulfilment of happiness.  Many spend their lives chasing rainbows unaware of the happiness lying next to them.

Then there are those who show us the path.  All you have to do is to listen to your heart.  Choose your own way; see life as an adventure and take challenges head on. The pot of gold then comes to you.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers.  Word count:100

Written in memory of my cousin Anshuman who passed away this week.   A high achiever with a love for life, an unlimited curiosity for new experiences and a zest for adventure.   Farewell my brother I'll miss your presence.

To read the other writers for this week, click here.

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