Invisible

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Looking back she could never tell of the day she became invisible.  Perhaps it was a gradual process over the years of being ignored and having her opinions go unheard.

Her own family would make plans without her, barely remembering she existed except when they wanted something done.

Sometimes she would see them enter a room, scrunching their eyes and scanning the room till they found her.  They would come over and make desultory conversation till the words tapered off and they wandered away.

As time went by she found the invisibility liberating, enjoying the freedom that came with it.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

To read the other writers click here.

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Driving Me Crazy

PHOTO PROMPT © Brenda Cox

Say Boss 

Ya Tony?

Ya gotta get me another car.

Wassa matter with dis one?

Folks don’t take me seriously Boss.

Explain yourself Tony.

Yesterday I drove downtown to make da hit on Fat Albert.   His weasels were lurking around with his henchman Crosseye.  He look across da road and say ‘Hey Tony,  didn’t know youse worked for Santa, how’s de Elf Mobile?’

Den the weasels start sniggering. I gets mad and shoot all five and finish Fat Albert.

Ya done good Tony.

But now my street name be Tony Da Elf Mobile Driver, who’s gonna be scared of dat?

***

It's a dialogue only story this week or as I sometimes call it 'my weakly offering'.  I hope it works.

Written for the Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

To read the other writers click here.

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Alone Again

PHOTO PROMPT © Bill Reynolds

What great campsite he ruminated.  There is something to be said about living in nature.   His fingers rummaged through the esky seeking another beer can. 

Except he wasn’t meant to be alone. 

The love of his life who he had met last week was to be with him. 

He even had a ring that he had planned to put in her breakfast bowl as a surprise. 

The trip was a surprise.  She thought they were going on a picnic. 

He should have never told her about the weekend plans at the service station. 

At least she left the beer behind. 

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

To read the other writers click here.

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The Happy Place

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

There are only two of them left in the playground now.  The incessant showers during the day have left it slippery and bereft of visitors except for them.  Neither one of them is willing to walk away from their happy place.

“Look at me mommy I am balancing” his voice reverberates through the air.  She closes her eyes capturing his movement on every swing and slide here.

He finds her drenched standing at the edge of the empty park where their son used to play.  Her eyes moisten as she sees him.  Their hands interlace as they walk quietly away.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

I have a feeling that many of the stories this week will reflect on that terrible massacre in the daycare centre in northeast Thailand.  What is our world coming to?

To read the other writers click here.

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The Departure Lounge

PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

“Is this seat taken?” I ask.

The trick is to inject that note of shy hesitancy.  Makes you seem vulnerable and needy and there are always those kind pottering around airports.  

He briefly looks over his book and tells me to take it. 

As always he is drinking coffee in a cup.  For me those takeaway cups with lids are an occupational hazard.

They chose me for my ability to slip something unnoticed in a drink, a task done many times before for the Supreme Leader.

Never walk away afterwards.  And it helps to raise an alarm to avoid suspicion.

***

 Written for the Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

Wow! I can't believe I've not written anything for over a year now.  I suppose writing code does not count either.  Well one way to ease back into Friday Fictioneers is to start by having a body count.

To read the other writers click here.

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Fake News

PHOTO PROMPT© Lisa Fox

We live in a world of fake news and disinformation is pushed down our throat.  It happens with such regularity that we miss out on the real stories and focus on the fake ones pushed on to us.

Especially those fairy tales where the Prince Charming rescues the damsel in distress.  Just think why would a very capable Cinderella wait to be rescued out of drudgery?  Cinderella did not come in a carriage magically materialised out of pumpkins.  Cinders rode her Harley to the ball.  And she slipped him her number on leaving.

The bike? It’s a museum piece now.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

I am probably the last one in this week.  Have missed a few episodes of FF this year, so what do I do but fall back on fracturing a fairy tale yet again.

To read the other writers click here.

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Gone Fishing

PHOTO PROMPT© Jennifer Pendergast

That eye is the perfect spot to fish I tell him.

Eye? He sounds confused this young pup I am saddled with training.

Those little thick circles of ice, I inform him, the hole suggests a good catch.

Confusion doesn’t last very long in the ambitious tyke.  I can see the gears in the brain whirling.

Bring back fish, become hero.

Without hesitation he steps forward.

There is a little gurgling sound at the end that a drowning person makes just before water rushes into the lungs. 

I love that sound.  And winter is the perfect time to set traps.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

To read the other writers click here.

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Selfie Before The Cart

©Roger Bultot

For a long time Mr Patel had resisted the pull of the social network.

‘Have no time man” explained his absence from the digital life.

“Don’t trust technology man” was oft repeated.

A lifelong bachelor, he was married to his work.  So when he was made redundant, we worried about how idleness would impact him.

Fortunately a lifetime of frugality meant he had no financial worries.

Then he sent me a friend request.  Mr Patel was on social media.

After keeping his life private for years, Mr Patel was sharing everything.  

His motto now was “I selfie therefore I am”.

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

I've missed the last two episodes of the FF.  Mostly due to not posting on time, so will be fashionably late this time, after all I blog therefore I am ;-)

To read the other writers click here.

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Stumped

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

“My dear fellow,” said Sherlock Holmes as we sat on either side of the fire in his lodgings at Baker Street, “I am stumped”.

“And yet I am not convinced,” I answered. “The great Sherlock Holmes stumped?”

“Well perhaps flummoxed then” he replied taking down the old and oily clay pipe, and, having lit it, he puffed away.

“But Holmes, why?”  I questioned.

Sherlock Holmes chuckled.

“I am convinced this is the work of the Purple Wraith.  She who posts pictures online every week, seeking precisely one hundred words. I fear this week, I too have been lost for words.”

***

Written for the Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

It's Sandra's photo this week, she who spins out impossibly good fiction each week that just leaves us wanting more. 

To read the other writers click here.

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Fairy Tales

Copyright Russell Gayer

If truth be told then the carriage that Cinderella went to the ball in was not a pumpkin.  It was a lemon.

I knew that lemon.  It was in Honest Al’s yard and I bought it for the Fairy Godmother when she was looking for a van.  When you have magic backing you up any lemon will do.  I worked for that witch and the things I could tell you would churn your insides.

The National Enquirer wanted to do a story on that scam but the editor was scared of being turned into a frog and covered it up.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

It's Russell's photo this week, so I hope my take meets his approval.

To read the other writers this week click here

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Eye of Hurricane

PHOTO PROMPT © Brenda Cox

We called her Hurricane Lucy.  When she blew into my brother’s life she drove away all competitors for his affection.  The timid ones really didn’t stand a chance in her path and the stubborn ones were ultimately cast aside.

What about the man in the eye of the hurricane? The clueless one had no idea as the storm raged around him.  When it all ended we crawled out of the shelter hoping for peace while picking up the debris.

As years went by we just built our own shelters and only emerged when the storm would recede.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 100

To read the other writers this week click here

I am back after missing the last couple of episodes of Friday Fictioneers.  I am at the moment struggling with motivation and lack of belief in my writing skills.  But I guess there is no better way to counter that but by writing more.

In other news I've been doing push-ups this week to raise money for mental health - this is me 

https://www.thepushupchallenge.com.au/pushuperer/268935

One in five Australians will experience mental ill health this year and only 46% of people seek help. It's a complex challenge - for ourselves, our loved ones and, most of all, for the nine Australians who die by suicide everyday.

The Push For Better Foundation aims to engage and educate people in mental and physical health, and raise awareness of the mental health issues affecting everyday Australians.

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A Day in The Life

PHOTO PROMPT © Miles Rost

Oh to be a fly on the wall.

How many times did he desire to be an insect of the order Diptera just so he could trap his cheating partner?  Too many to count but in the end a private investigator got him the desired results.

And last night he celebrated.  There was lots of drinking involved and raiding the attic to get that heirloom lamp.   Grandma always said it was magical but no one paid attention to her.

Grandma also warned him to choose his words carefully.

'I wish to be the fifth Beatle'.

Bloody musical neophyte Genie!

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 99

To read the other writers this week click here

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Exile

PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

Why would you ever go back they ask?  

He knows the other exiles have been whispering behind his back.  

Are you not happy to bask in the glow of freedom?  

After all he should be grateful not being a part of the tired, the poor, the huddled masses yearning to breathe free.

Yet he notices the suspicious looks that people give when he wears the ethnic dress that he refuses to discard.

A scholar in his land but here he struggles with hopelessness, loss and lack of purpose.

Maybe this was not the freedom that he expected it to be.

***

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Word Count : 99

To read the other writers this week click here

While writing this I was suddenly reminded of a poem by Faiz

Dawn of Freedom (August 1947) 
This stain-covered daybreak, this night-bitten dawn,
This is not that dawn of which there was expectation;
This is not that dawn with longing for which
The friends set out, (convinced) that somewhere there we met with,

https://urduwallahs.wordpress.com/2014/08/15/the-dawn-of-freedom/

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