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

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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.

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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.

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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

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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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