Boxcar 87: Fiction Friday

Friday Fictioneer Challenge: Write a 100-word story based on the photo.
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Friday Fictioneer prompt. Copyright Jennifer Pendergast

Friday Fictioneer prompt. Copyright Jennifer Pendergast

Boxcar 87

Are we almost there?

Boxcar 87 looked back. Boxcar 88 was rocking a little from side to side, looking a bit anxious under a thin layer of dust.

First trip out west?” Boxcar 87 asked. “Relax. Look how beautiful the desert is.”

Boxcar 88 snorted. “It’s boring. It’s, like, one color: khaki. Miles and miles of boring nothing.”

Boxcar 87 wondered about the future of rail transportation when youngsters like 88 had no patience, no imagination.

Are we almost there?” Boxcar 88 repeated.

No, we are not almost there.” Boxcar 87 sighed. This was going to be one long trip.

Looking Up: Fiction Friday

Friday Fictioneer Challenge: Write a 100-word story based on the photo.
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Friday Fictioneer prompt.  Copyright Lauren Moscato

Friday Fictioneer prompt. Copyright Lauren Moscato

Things Were Looking Up

Been there, done that,” George’s father, Alvin, said, after he caught George climbing in the bedroom window just before dawn, again. It was all George could do not to roll his eyes; he knew the lectures by heart.

The good news: they were moving and, Alvin said, smiling, one bedroom had a separate entrance that would be George’s.

That’s more like it, George thought, dreaming of telling his friends how he was going to have his own door to come and go as he pleased. No more answering to his old man as to his whereabouts. Things were looking up.

The Last Waltz: Fiction Friday

Friday Fictioneer Challenge: Write a 100-word story based on the photo.
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Friday Fictioneer prompt.  Copyright David Stewart

Friday Fictioneer prompt. Copyright Dave Stewart

The Last Waltz

A retired musician sat in each seat. However circuitous their paths had been to this point, they knew they were lucky to be there. Leaving professional tensions behind years ago, all they brought with them now was the magic of their music, and they brought it all with each performance.

As the last rays of the sun faded, the first notes of their favorite piece, The Blue Danube, rang out. Stars emerged as if on cue. The musicians brought forth the enchantment as envisioned by Johann Strauss, each playing with loving tenderness, never knowing which waltz would be their last.
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The Green Room: Fiction Friday

The Friday Fictioneer Challenge: Write a 100-word story based on the photo.
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Friday Fictioneer prompt.  Copyright Rachel Bjerke

Friday Fictioneer prompt. Copyright Rachel Bjerke

The Green Room

Richard didn’t understand: the wood wasn’t green, wasn’t wet, but no matter how many times he lit the fire, it wouldn’t take.

This was the fairies’ favorite trick: enticing campers into the Green Room (as they called it), to watch them try to start a fire. Fanning the flame with their wings, just enough so the fire flickered, the fairies then dropped dust on it, making it smolder and go out.

When Richard returned home, he felt the need to paint his house green, inside and out, bewildering his friends and family. The fairies liked it, though, and visited regularly.
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Fiction Friday: Not That Easy

Friday Fictioneer Challenge: Write a 100-word story based on the photo.
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Friday Fictioneer prompt.  Copyright Sandra Crook

Friday Fictioneer prompt. Copyright Sandra Crook

Not That Easy

I can’t just go walking up to it in the middle of the day and retrieve the gun, Ted. It’s not that easy. How was I supposed to know it was going to be cleaned up and opened to the public as a park. Yes, I know which tree it is. Don’t worry. I’m almost there. Everyone should be at home now, keeping warm.

Coming out of the copse, Seth stopped at the bridge, silently staring at the stump where the tree used to be.

Seth,” Ted’s tiny voice came out of the cell phone. “Do you have the gun?
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