Snake in the Grass – Friday Fictioneers

dinner-table-priorPHOTO PROMPT © Yvette Prior

Christian peered under the porcelain mugs. Mama was specific, “don’t touch anything”.

Being super careful so they wouldn’t break was the next best option.

He sighed as the mug search revealed nothing. A woman, her hair still in rollers, watched him carefully misplace dirty napkins in the trash.

“Excuse me.” Jasmine’s attention was pulled to the sight of her son rifling through sugar packets by one of her more difficult regular guests.

“Christian, I told you not to touch anything.”

“It’s Diamond, she got out.”

From the dining room the woman with rollers in her hair screamed, “a snake!”

Word Count: 99

Thank you, thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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Perfect Moon – Friday Fictioneers

Is it the same moon we see?

Do you watch it roll slowly above the horizon, arcing gracefully?

I trace its path with an uncertain finger, lingering on the point where I dream our palms should meet.

A perfect intersection, a crossing of the souls. A perfect arcing destiny, straight into the heart from Cupid’s bow.

I wonder which plane you left on and if you’ll ever return. If you ever do, I wonder should our hearts meet again, perhaps under glistening Sun?

Dreams come true, if only for a night, a moment. If only under the perfect arcing moon.

gah_windowPHOTO PROMPT © Gah Learner

And thank you to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneer’s every week.

Word count: 100

Friday Fictioneers – Forgotten Dresses

Lanky and odd with gentle features, Johnny’s pa called him “sissy boy”. He served bloody noses and fat lips in hopes of toughening the boy up.

Johnny collected forgotten dresses from his older sister’s closet and hid them in the old shed. When he thought no one was peeking he slid their silken fabrics over his skin.

One night nosy Mary-Ann wouldn’t leave him alone.

He tried to escape his older sisters prying eyes but found himself cornered when she threw open the creaky shed door.

“You really should ask before borrowing clothes, that zipper is tricky, let me help.”

nathan-sowers-dawn-millers-friend
PHOTO PROMPT © Nathan Sowers grandson of our own Dawn M. Miller

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers

Friday Fictioneers – Counting Lighters

This here’s a true story.

The moment I realized what rock bottom looked like as I barreled from above.

And tried to hit the brakes but just wasn’t strong enough.

I wasted drunken moments counting lighters scattered around, at least ten collected in my dead flower jar.

Then the music stopped and that moment of eerie silence …

Right before girls screaming and wild stampeding.

“There’s a boy on the bedroom floor. There’s a boy dying through that door.”

In my apartment.

High on my drugs.

Drunk on my liquor.

I wasted moments counting lighters … I spent seconds wishing on stars.

coffee-table-prior
PHOTO PROMPT © Yvette Prior

Word Count: 100

Many thanks as always to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

I honestly do not know if this will work in 100 words, I like it but I also know it seems kind of abstract. 

Like A Barbie – Friday Fictioneers

“Do you think it’s fake?” Shanna focused on the neon green moving in the breeze.

Dena’s eyes focused beyond the grass on one Ms. Leroy. She was tall, blonde and, as their mom said, “100% plastic”.

“Like a barbie.” Dena whispered.

Shanna tilted her head while staring at the stiff blades. No matter how she turned, tilted or squinted the grass looked nothing like a barbie.

“I don’t see it.”

Dena grabbed at her non-existent chest.

“But don’t you see? One day I’ll have some just like that.”

“Are you sure?” Shanna never thought her sister liked plants all that much.

ronda-del-boccioPHOTO PROMPT © Ronda Del Boccio

Friday Fictioneers courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Word Count: 100

Wild Mess – Friday Fictioneers

Some movie once said, somewhere between those unfortunate ages of 12 and 15, I should have a “coming of age” moment. Something forever cemented in time as the moment I knew; the moment I became … something more. I balked and bought a book then grimaced when it preached the same line around page 53.

Who ever said I really had to grow up anyway?

Even a million miles away I can see mom purse her lips over my messy shelves. Her sigh is evidence enough though she smiles through the words.

“I just wish you would clean up your mess and come home.”

sandra-crook-stacks
PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Thank you, thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for Friday Fictioneers.

Word Count: 100

My Name’s Annie – Friday Fictioneer’s

If you’re reading this my name’s Annie.

If you’re reading this then I guess the worst has already happened.

Maybe not. Maybe it’s 50 years from now and you’re in the woods with a metal detector and by some miracle the little clasp on this plastic bound kiddie journal hasn’t rotted off yet.

Most likely you’re mom and dad, in the middle of my room, surrounded by pink bunnies and blue gnomes … I always said I was too old for those.

If you’re reading this, my name’s Annie and I’m a good kid … I killed that boy because I had to.

dawn-in-montrealPHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for putting together Friday Fictioneers every week.

Word Count: 100