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.
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.
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.
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.
“Ingrid pay mind to your customers. Mrs Lavender requires pears not peaches. I don’t know why the tiniest peep of sun rays and clear skies set your head tumbling.”
“It’s those books from Lady Margaret’s library.”
“What books?” queried mother. Her voice barely above a whisper which bellied a tumultuous rising temper.
There was no doubt about it, it was definitely going to happen. Louise had to be gagged at the nearest opportunity.
“It’s nothing mother, Louise is making things up, as always.”
“I’m not …” she yelped in pain she as her sisters’ fingers dug into her left side.
Photo prompt courtesy / copyright of Brenda Cox.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting this writing opportunity called Friday Fictioneers.
Every little helps. Chris smiled as he emptied the groceries. He couldn’t agree more with the slogan.
He had started losing hope of ever completing his vision. Thanks to hunger pangs which led to an impromptu visit to the shop weeks ago, he had stumbled on the final piece for his project. Granted it had taken several visits to confirm a perfect match. There was no doubt about it, her lips were exactly like mothers’.
And soon they would fit the rest of her. Mother would live again. It was time to set things in motion.
Inspired by the art and decorative pieces in the picture.
Now if only one could remember what was supposed to go where. Oh, it was no use! The list was only as helpful as it was clearly labelled. And this list wasn’t.
Well, someone was going to end up with a toxic breakfast or a less than interesting display for yellow is the colour of science.
Written for Friday fictioneers organised by Rochelle. Thanks Rochelle.
The snipping sound of the scissor was lost in the background of celebratory jeers and claps.
For some it was the triumphant ending to a remarkable project.
For others it was the beginning of new adventure, the chance to start again.
And for some it was just another tick box exercise for the state. An effigy to dissuade a guilty and blood stained conscience from losing all it’s humanity. It was always the same, the politicians could never sustain their quick fixes to deep seated problems. Like a drug addict high on new fix, there was no doubt in their minds the building would fall into disarray a few years, when it’s shinning surface no longer impressed the media. When ghosts buried behind the walls rose to life again.
For Eloise it was already a little too late.
Her flesh was the foundation for all this hope. Her blood, the current surging through the light bulbs.
Alba would never understand a society that indulged it’s appetite voraciously, then plugged it’s rectum just as tight with asphalt. It never led to much.
The old build dubbed “iuventus seditio” Vesna’s altar, by the teenagers, had been torn down. In its’ place stood a new structure christened “youthful springs” by the adults who wanted a new life for all these teenagers who wandered lost through the street with nothing to do.
Thanks Rochelle for hosting the writing event Friday Fictioneers.
Quotes related to the story:
“There are two hundred million idiots manipulated by a million intelligent men.” PE
“Every positive value has its price in negative terms… the genius of Einstein leads to Hiroshima.” PP
“so I wait for you like a lonely house till you will see me again and live in me. Till then my windows ache.” PN
lifehomeandaway 