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

I'd love read what you think about this post...

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

I'd love read what you think about this post...

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

I'd love read what you think about this post...

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

To read the other writers this week click here

I'd love read what you think about this post...

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

To read the other writers click here

I'd love read what you think about this post...

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

To read the other writers click here

I'd love read what you think about this post...

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

I'd love read what you think about this post...

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

I'd love read what you think about this post...

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.

I'd love read what you think about this post...

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.

I'd love read what you think about this post...

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.

I'd love read what you think about this post...

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.

I'd love read what you think about this post...

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.

I'd love read what you think about this post...