Bar None

PHOTO PROMPT- ©Ted Strutz

“So what have you here?”

She said that in a breathless tone that always had the desired effect.

He sucked his stomach in and edged closer.  It always was a game and this one was under control. 

There really had been no expense spared when they built this bar.  He had made it quite clear that he deserved it.

“For you my dear a cocktail to match our mood” he smirked. 

**

The investigator paused the footage.

“Do you want to see the rest Mrs D?”

She knew the settlement would be on her terms.

“I’ve seen enough”, she smirked.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

Wrote this during my usual Friday evening pit stop.  Yep at the airport waiting for the ride home.

To visit the virtual bar with the other writers this week click here.

Flotsam and Jetsam

PHOTO PROMPT © Janet Webb

I saw him under the bridge arranging his belongings.  It was my walking route where the final stretch took me under the arches and up the steps leading to my office. He tipped his hat politely and resumed sorting his possessions.

Every day I’d meander by the river bank making my way through the park.  Stopping only to take photos and the mandatory uploads to Facebook. He was now a permanent occupant curled up under the bridge with his worldly goods in a trolley.

I never saw him after the flood, just some lurking flotsam and jetsam in the water.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

I do disembark from the bus and take a walk by the river each morning.  The route does take me under a bridge but that is where reality ends and fiction takes over.  The title a nod to a story by one of my favourite writers Somerset Maugham.

To walk on the river bank with other writers this week click here.

Hot Dog

PHOTO PROMPT- Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields

He stood on the deck, inhaling the salty breeze as the statue loomed into the view. It was time to reflect on the events of last week.

“Sausage in bread? A Kabanosy you vill sell? Is crazy I tell you.  Vill never vork.”

The investors were discouraging but Ida’s reassuring squeeze gave him the courage to push his proposal.  Ultimately the samples spiced with her secret recipe would win them over.

All these years he had worked for Mr Feltman as a roll cutter making “dachshund sandwich”.  Now it was time for him to start his very own “grab joint”.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

An attempt at historical fiction and nothing more important than hot dogs.  Actually I started looking up the history of the Statue and Coney Island and the story of Nathan Handwerker came up.  As someone who appreciates a good hot dog, how could I let it go?  Apparently there is also a documentary on him,

To ride on the ferry with other writers this week click here.

Breaking Baad

I've been negligent of this blog recently.  A combination of work, travel and probably a lack of motivation and as a result the writing has fallen by the wayside.  I've been doubting my writing skills and the ability to tell a story, even the one in a hundred words.  I guess the only way to get over it is to start writing again.  But before that happens, it's time for my first rerun of a Friday Fictioneer prompt.  All the way back from May 2014! Whoa looks like I am a veteran too,

The Return of the Black Sheep

The Long Flight Home

copyright-Rich Voza

I have had these calls before.  We discuss myriad topics under the sun, the weather, the movies, sporting events and how the children are growing up.  And so it goes until next time when we repeat the same.  How many times did they end with an “I love you”?

I have had these calls before.  Calls after I talked to my father, listened in to my wife’s brother on Skype and hours after the last chat with my mother.  All unexpected but this time I was waiting for the call.  My brother-in-laws’s suffering was over.

And the long flight home.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

It has been over a month since my brother-in-law passed away.  I didn't know how to express my emotions in this blog and have been silent for a while.  The courage and dignity with which he bore his suffering remains an example to our family.  He will be missed.

To fly with the other writers this week click here.

Sing a song of sixpence

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Sing a song of sixpence

A pocket full of rye

“Putain!” Monsieur Auguste gave a one fingered salute to the birds.

“Imbecile flying turd buckets,” he muttered angrily.

It hadn’t always been like this.  The leisurely walk to work from his quarters to main kitchen had been a source of pleasure.  The immaculate gardens with its beautiful flowers always gave a reason to smile.  That happiness was then reflected in the food he created.

But for the past year the avian menace was getting to him.

“What’s for dinner?” inquired the King.

“Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie”

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

Sometimes one must look at the funny side of life no matter what it throws at you.

To fly with the birds this week click here.

Purple Rain

PHOTO PROMPT © Mary Shipman

I never meant to cause you any sorrow

I never meant to cause you any pain

In the days after you wander around the house forlorn.

You open her wardrobe and caress the dresses hanging there.  You draw them close and inhale the fragrances left behind.  The citrus and herbal smells from a happier place in another time.

There is a stench here too, of arguments and decay, of raised voices floating in ether as your fingers trace a line over the newly plastered wall.

I only want to see you, only want to see you

In the purple rain

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

I wanted to include this song for my last post but late submissions rarely get read so I decided to leave it for this week.  And fortunately there is an entry in time after last week's technical glitches.

So here's to a singer, songwriter, a producer and a one man band - Prince

Freedom

PHOTO PROMPT © Madison Woods

Hassan looks across the barbed wired fence and its sharp jagged barbs.  Beyond it lie the promises of freedom from horrors of the past.

He was out of the house when the liberators came looking for the “collaborator” and punished his parents as a warning to those who would disobey. 

He ran that night, hidden under the tarpaulin in a dilapidated van with the saving of a lifetime strapped close to his body.  He was soon parted with that when they put him on a boat with assurances of deliverance.      

He waits now for freedom from bias and barbed wires.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

Phew! I didn't think I'd be able to have an entry this week. My laptop crashed and I had to spend the weekend frantically figuring out how to fix it.  Then when the access came back, Chrome decided I could not access my blog. Fortunately working in IT lets you find workarounds :-)
To read the stories for this week click here.

The Last Will

PHOTO PROMPT © Kent Bonham

We file into the room together following the man in the suit.  Inside there is an assortment of grimaces, forced smiles, hostile looks and attempts at cheery indifference.

She grips my hand tightly and hisses, “Why is she here? The little gold digger!”

I flash a warning glare as the Suit clears his throat and the whispers subside.

“I’d like to remind everyone that our team has advised that the document is legally valid.  The instructions clearly state that the estate goes to the person who can decipher his last statement”.

He holds up the document to cries of dismay.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

To read the stories for this week click here.

Teddy Bears' Picnic

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

If you go down to the woods today,

You're sure of a big surprise.

Personally he didn’t want to go but after years of waiting the authorities had decreed that one member of each family must go back.

The path to the house was difficult to drive, so they let him out and watched as he negotiated the terrain. 

He had been playing outside that day and had cried on leaving Ted behind.

Now the backyard was a jungle.

The last thing he noticed were the glowing eyes of the teddies as they surrounded him.

Picnic time for teddy bears

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

The second entry for the week based on a song very popular with my kids when they were small, the first one was about Beauty Sleep.

To read the stories coming out of the woods click here.

Beauty Sleep

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

I look at you all see the love there that's sleeping

She lay in front of him the fairest sight one ever beheld.  The legend of a sleeping beauty rumoured to be asleep for a hundred years was true indeed.

I look at the world and I notice it's turning

What a story!  He had succeeded where others had failed. The impenetrable thorn-hedge, a barrier to adventurers, had yielded and let him pass.

 “But a hundred years older that’s seriously uncool”.

Maybe the story of the girl living with seven dwarfs would be worth investigating.

Still my guitar gently weeps

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

To read the stories coming out of the woods click here.

Last week was busy and the weekend was spent in travelling so I missed out last week's episode as country roads took me home.

I can't seem to stop incorporating songs from Beatles into my stories, this week's offering contains words from one of my favourites.  George Harrison's masterpiece While My Guitar Gently Weeps

I also have another entry in for this week.

Potted Plants

PHOTO PROMPT – © Ted Strutz

The first time he got her flowers, it was an assortment of pink, orange and yellow roses with exotic Peruvian lilies.  She was young then and overwhelmed by the gesture of romance. 

Only much later when she stripped back the fragments of their lives that all the pieces of the puzzle fell in to reveal the truth about the bouquets. 

Vibrant Gerberas to replace the colour missing her life, the roses in shades of pink, orange and lavender, flowers for each act of betrayal. 

She would have flushed his ashes but Blood & Bone Mix is an excellent plant starter.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

On Friday we had little detour of 250 kms after we missed a turn driving from Brisbane to Sydney.  First miss on a route we've been driving for 16 years but then it's holiday time with family after being the weekend visitor for the past few months.  

To read more about potted plants from this week click here.

The Writer

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“And then I drowned him in the river”

We all looked at him horrified, our glasses poised in mid-air, struck by what he had just said. Then the Pretty Little Thing piped up, “How could you?”

He shrugged.

“It was a simple decision.  Picture a small group on a boat on a river, initially enjoying the tranquility and living in harmony with each other.  And then things start changing.  People start to grate on your nerves; rivalries form, lust and jealousy appear. “

“But how could you kill him” said the PYT.

“It’s easy my dear, I wrote the story”.

**

Written for Friday Fictioneers Word Count : 100

To read the stories from this week's cruise click here.