Tag Archives: Fiction

First Day: Fiction Friday

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11

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

Photo copyright Roger Bultot

Photo copyright Roger Bultot

First Day

“What’s that white stuff?”

Aloe sighed, looking up at Orchid, his bloom newly opened. Aloe had been on that window sill for as long as she could remember. Orchid had been there a long time, too, but his memory faded each time his last bloom withered. He never remembered the snow, the rain, the sunshine. Today really is the first day of the rest of his life, Aloe thought.

With true kindness, Aloe said, “It’s snow,” and started to describe the weather and the world they would see pass by them as they looked out the window together, as always.

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

Rembrandt Rustlers: Fiction Friday

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5

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

Photo copyright Dale Rogerson

Photo copyright Dale Rogerson

Rembrandt Rustlers

No one thought it would ever come to this: an underground art gallery. Underground in both senses of the word: the physical location and secret, hidden from the officials.

The Rembrandt Rustlers fashioned themselves after the Rose Rustlers who search for old roses, risking life and limb to steal a cutting. Only their target was art from galleries and museums shattered by the bombs.

They believed in art as a defining, necessary aspect of civilization; saw themselves in a race to preserve a part of humanity that seeks out joy and beauty. When the dust settled above, they’d be ready.

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

Once Upon A Time: Fiction Friday

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7

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

Photo copyright Sandra Crook

Photo copyright Sandra Crook

Once Upon A Time

From behind the face of the tower clock, the village looked small. Maureen remembered always being fascinated with the mechanical timepiece, abandoned long ago.

She dreamt of whirling gears and cogs. “Did it used to work?” she asked her parents.

“Once upon a time,” they said, “but we don’t need it now. We have electricity.”

That was before the war. Now, no one had electricity, anywhere. The war took too many lives, broke most technology chains. Turns out time can run backwards, Maureen thought. She finished oiling the clock and started it back up. Once upon a time was now.

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The photographer, Sandra Crook, is also a Friday Fictioneer writer. Here is her story, The History Man.

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

Silhouette: Fiction Friday

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4

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

Photo copyright Shaktiki Sharma

Photo copyright Shaktiki Sharma

Silhouette

Carol tried to hide behind her camera. Standing as far away as she could, hoping no one would notice, she photographed people as silhouettes, two-dimensional beings, dark contrasted against light.

Over time, however, her camera became her connection to people instead of a shield. The individuals she photographed often came up to her with comments and questions about her work, about her. To them, she wasn’t just a shadow.

Eventually, Carol reconsidered her tactics. Stepping out of the darkness, she approached people, asking permission to photograph them, finding a universe of uniqueness, a fullness detailed in her newly discovered light.

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

Coming Home

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3

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

Photo copyright Roger Bultot

Photo copyright Roger Bultot

Coming Home

The soldier, in full dress uniform, sat at the counter without touching the food April put in front of him.

“Home on leave?” she asked.

Looking up, he shook his head with sad, hollow eyes.

As she waited on other customers, she saw him weep, teardrops falling on the newspaper he was reading.

When she next noticed, he was gone. April cleaned up the counter where he’d been, picking up the newspaper. Her heart broke when she saw the splotches of his fallen tears on the obituary page. It was his photo looking back at her; his burial was today.

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