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

Photo copyright Sandra Crook

Only One Way

Lucinda vaguely remembers sitting on her great-grandfather’s knee, listening to his stories about being a lamplighter way back when. Candles and kerosene were the illumination technology of the day.

Her grandfather also had stories about being a lamplighter and the change over to gas lamps. “What a grand thing it was,” he smiled, reminiscing, “being able to light up the night.” Following in those footsteps, Lucinda’s father oversaw the implementation of electric street lamps all over the city.

As CEO of a solar power company, Lucinda also heeded her family’s time-proven advice: There was only one way to go. Forward.

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This is my 175th Friday Fictioneer story.

Check out Sandra Crook’s blog here.

To read other Friday Fictioneer stories based on this photo, select the smiley blue frog.

The Friday Fictioneer Challenge: Write a 100-word story based on the photo. This week’s photo credit goes to “What’s His Name.” I’m not making that up: it’s what was posted on our host’s website (Rochelle Wisoff-Fields). I checked three times to see if it had been updated. Nope.

Photo copyright What’s His Name

Fixer Upper

Janie’s heart raced with excitement as she perused the “treasures” in the barn. She wanted to be just like Joanna on the HGTV show “Fixer Upper.” Janie looked at everything with Joanna’s eyes: old window frames as mirror frames; reclaimed wood as wall accents; and that claw-footed bathtub – to die for!

Janie invited her mother over before the open house. “What do you think?”

“Is this what passes for stylish these days?”

Janie looked at her mother with new eyes, wondering how much work it would take to fix up her mother with an updated outlook on life.

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To read other Friday Fictioneer stories based on this photo, select the smiley blue frog.

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

Photo copyright J Hardy Carroll

Next Steps

“Everything I own, gone in just a few minutes.” Max heard himself say to the reporter as she packed up her gear. She hadn’t talked to him. She had interviewed only the man who lived in the penthouse suite. Both the penthouse occupant and the reporter ignored everyone else; not worth their time, they thought.

Max sat down on the curb, coughing from the smoke, unsure of his next steps. This isn’t how I thought today would go.

He unzipped his jacket just enough to see his kitten’s face poking out. She mewed. Max hugged her as he cried.

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Check out J Hardy Carroll’s blog.

To read other Friday Fictioneer stories based on this photo, select the smiley blue frog.