Words without voices

She giggled … “mommmm, you have to finish the story. What did great-grandpa sayyy….”

“Well, he said, you better leave this place you big for nothing oaf.” She laughed and tickled Sarah.

 “That’s not what you said last time mummy,” Sarah replied trying so hard to be coherent.

“Ohhh? What did I say last time?””

“You said he told the man to leave his Island or he would send his soul to the devil.”

“I told you that?” Oh my God. Marlene thought.

“Yes, you did mum, you change it every time. I wish great-grandpa wrote his stories down.”

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

So this is a long short, but the graffiti inspired my story. Thanks Rochelle for hosting the writing challenge Friday Fictioneers. Click the link to visit her blog.

And click on the link to read other stories.

Fractured people

Photo copyright owned by Sandra Crook

“Does this remind you of anything?”

“Does what ‘remind’ me of anything?”

“That,” pointing ahead, he continued “the castle there”.

“Ohh. Hmmm not really. What does it remind you of?”

“You know, the scripture, a city set on a hill cannot be hidden.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Unfortunately, this one is broken, and relatively disused.”

“Indeed, it is, a pile of rocks on top a hill”

“A pile that serves as a tourist attraction.”

“True, but, a broken city no matter it’s history or filter applied cannot hide its cracks.”

“Not every crack must be hidden or examined.”  She concluded.

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting the writing challenge Friday fictiooners.

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In plain site

Photo prompt copyright @ Bill Reynolds

“Is this really the best shelter we can make.”

“Unfortunately, yes”

“It does not look strong enough”

“Tell me about it”

“With minimal effort anyone can destroy its’ structural defences. It’s
even more terrifying how easily one can access and restructure its’ internal

“For once I agree with you, this is unwise”

“I understand your reasons for panicking. But you both must trust me.”


“If we hide the treasure in grandeur, it will incite even the most insipid mind.
This way it pulls from the giver what is within, for on its’ own it is an
innocent baby.”

Thanks Rochelle for hosting the writing challenge Friday Fictioneers.

Please click the link to read other great stories.

Vantage point.

She had the vantage point at the end of the cul-de-sac. She saw all evil,
she heard all evil. She passed them along when it suited her.
Today was no different.
Hidden by the tree, her view tinted marginally by cigarette smoke. She watched.
She should call the police; she should do something.
Maybe after this last puff. No, she would wait, tomorrow was soon enough.
The danger electrified her clouded senses.
She watched them.
Stealthily she reached for the door, silently the slash cut her off.
They had thought of every contingency, she hadn’t.

Photo prompt provided by Dale Rogerson.

Thanks Rochelle for hosting the writing challenge Friday Fictionners. Click the link in her name if you would like to take part.

And click this link to read more stories.

Rhythm of life

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


“The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and
round.” One voice screeched the lyric, the other mumbled them, and the
last one floated through the air. A gentle backdrop for the vocal trio.

“Mum, can we sing woow woow da boat? asked Caleb, while tipping his
truck of toys on the growing mountain on the floor.

“But it’s my turrrn” Myla whined.

Caleb stumped his foot, “no it’s not”

Ruffling his hair, Hannah cut in, “She’s right honey. What should we sing

“Wind ma bobbin up” Myla replied, bouncing up and down.


Can you spot what objects in the picture link with the nursery rhymes in the story.

Thanks Rochelle for the writing challenge Friday fictiooners.

Click the link for more stories.

Gilded curtains.

With a voice as smooth as soothing ice, Lynnette spoke “You will sell your wares such as they are to whomever comes knocking at this door, no questions asked. Is that clear enough?”

The stench in the room was suffocating, Iris could not wait to escape it. When had she become so callous?

The red mass by the wall trembled like a curtain fluttering to a gentle
breeze, except madam Lynnette’s house had no curtains only stiff blinds. Seeing it Lynnette smiled and walked away. Iris locked the door, recalling unpleasant memories. The cremation of another childhood had begun.

Photo provided by Jan Wayne Fields

Thanks Rochelle for hosting the writing challenge Friday fictiooners.

Please click the link to read more stories.

Sorry but I had to re-write the story as I felt the first post was not very comprehensive.

Opening new doors

Every night in my dreams …. Near, far, wherever you are.

He opened the door.

It was so familiar, yet so different.

The window display was still the same with the “affinity table” at the edge. A confluence points for two hearts and brains to look inwards. Yvonne had proclaimed that with a tinge of patience, and a hint of empathy every query could be teased apart gently.

It was so familiar but the fragrance not quite so.

Then she laughed and he knew without a doubt that his heart would go. In sync to his grand daughters’ laughter, so like his Yvonne’s.

Photo prompt from John Nixon

Thanks Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers. Please click this link to read other stories and the former link to learn more about Friday Fictioneers.

Time to call Rochelle.

Photo prompt from Rochelle Wisoff – Fields.

Was there no end to this? He had been prepared for the stress, and monotony of dull foods whilst at sea. But no one had said anything about the mind-numbing power of seeing the colour blue for miles on end.

Much like him, his character had been stuck at sea for months now.

His brain was in a fog. All his ideas tanked like popped balloons.

There was no way around it, time to call Rochelle.

Between stories of her crazy colleagues and interesting clients, he hoped something would pop up and stay up this time around. It always worked.

Thanks for the prompt Rochelle and for hosting Friday Fictioneers.

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Photo prompt copy right of David Stewart.

Three candidates rejected and it was barely 12 noon. “Might I ask what went wrong this time?” Keeping his back to her, Vincent replied, “the candidate was more enthused by the prospects of being out of lockdown rather than that of working at CLEAR VISION.” “How is this a problem for us?” Ellie replied “It demonstrates a lack of focus; any job would do.” “Pardon me, but doesn’t enthusiasm and a positive work environment go together.” “It’s not a given. Besides who wears a yellow shirt to an interview?” “Someone who hoped to perhaps brighten your vision.” Ellie replied.
Written for Friday Fictioneers, a weekly writing prompt hosted by Rochelle. They are so many fun ways to interpret this weeks prompt. Click on this link to read them.

Make it count

Jeremiah stood by the window and smiled.

This was their achievement. That for him that was the biggest highlight of
his success.  

No doubt about it, sometimes he had felt heavy laden and his Ima had felt so
rushed out of breath. But through it all they had ended up running back to the
same line, the same converging line.

Here they were now together in synch; many adjustments, and pitstops later
in a house built on sweat but not blood. Fit for a queen and a king who some
how managed to ensure that what counted was never discounted.

Photo prompt from Lisa Fox.

Thanks Rochelle for hosting Friday fictionners.

The photo for some reason reminded me of a very majestic building on a cliff.