Tag Archives: Friday Fictioneers

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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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.

As Soon As Possible: Fiction Friday

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8

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

Photo copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Photo copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

As Soon As Possible

Ah, true love: snuggling by the fire, cozy coffee mornings, decorating the Christmas tree while snowflakes fell softly. That’s what Shirley thought she signed on for.

Her first winter on the farm exposed the frailness of her white wonderland fantasies. But it was Steve’s home and where he was, she wanted to be.

Except Steve wasn’t here anymore. He up and died during that storm, leaving her trying to survive, alone, in this hostile environment.

One thing Shirley knew for sure: if this storm didn’t kill her as well, she and the ponies were heading south as soon as possible.

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This is my 125th Friday Fictioneer story. To read other Friday Fictioneer stories based on this photo, select the smiley blue frog.