Friday Fictioneers - The Old Tramp.

I have no excuse of neglecting my blog (again), but with a little encouragement from of all people my American Lit Teacher, I've decided to return to it for the time being.

This is of course due the the Flash Fiction book that finally got published. Yes, yours truly got in on that action. And trust me I'm happy I did. Being the overachieving twat that I am, I had to show it to my teacher. Which brings me to the question she just had to ask: Are you still doing this every week? 

No, said I. Which forced her to ask me, why not. I didn't have an answer to that. 

So without further ado I bring you, The Old Tramp (98-99 words)

Copyright Adam Ickes

Tuesdays and Thursdays she passed the old tramp. He parked his cart, with all his belongings, near the table by the mural. He would feed the birds using the money he made, panhandling. 

Thursday she was rushing, but noticed he wasn’t there. Tuesday, he was back, empty handed, minus the cart. The birds hungrily milling about his unprotected feet. 

She left home earlier that following Thursday, carrying a pair of shoes her husband wouldn’t miss. She placed them on the table. The tramp needed them more than she did. Her husband died last year. She hoped they fit.


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Friday Fiction - Wouldn't It Be Funny

While I happen to be writing this whole month I figured I'd return to my roots with a little FridayFictioneer. What a lovely picture, it tickles me. Plus, She and He  (links to their other stories above) finally got names (yay...)

Copyright John Nixon

Wouldn't It Be Funny

Heydan hated clowns. Ever since she was little and her parents thought it was a good idea to let her watch It on television. But this clown was part of the play so she remained calm.

Harry next to her whispred, “Wouldn’t it be funny...”

Suddenly, Harry was lifted and thrown into the old piano that sat dusty in the corner. The audience thought he was part of the act and applauded. The actors on stage, clueless.

Only Heydan knew, she pictured it, so it happened. His colorful foot wear adding to the effect.

“Why yes, yes it would be funny.” 

The Blog Hop has already begun, so you should all take a look inside and see what the other awesome writers do with this photo prompt. Don't forget to drop by Rochelle's blog for the rules. 

Everything's for Sale- Friday Fictioneers

Once in a while I'm reminded that I'm a fan of Steampunk. I'm a fan of a lot of things but that's not the point. When I saw this week's photo Prompt offered up by Sandra Cook, my comment on Facebook was something like: I'm in  love.

It's pretty in a  rusty greasy gear head type of way and I'm not ashamed to say it. In fact, it makes me want to dig out my halloween costume and go find  a dirigible. Which brings me to my submission. 

Copyright Sandra Cook

Everything's for Sale

The young pilot eyed the contraption eagerly. The old tramp watched as the youth approached the steps of the local saloon. The tramp recognized the want in her coveteous eyes. Everyone who saw it had the same look.

“I see you looking at the bike little lady.” The tramp siddled between her and the bike.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about old man.” The pilot knew his kind. Meddling. Out to make some money.

“Sure  you do. But this baby ain’t for sale.” He patted the seat.

She drew her pistol, aiming it at the old tramp. “Mister, everything’s for sale. Now get out of my way.” 

The Blog Hop is going pretty good this week, so you should all take a look inside and see what the other awesome writers take from this work of art. Don't forget to drop by Rochelle's blog for the rules and tips on how to induce labor. Hopefully you'll participate too.

Friday Fictioneer- The Dig

You know some people just don't care how they get their kicks. "She" is back with her careless side kick "He" and this time there is a little assist from every one's favorite wizard. 

No, not Gandalf the White. Harry Potter. Though Meeks was pretty bad ass too even if he's a bit on a shady side. Geek points if you even remotely remember who that guy was. Is not was, because in books your characters live forever. But this isn't about wizards, so lets focus. Focus. Focus Tia, there's a cool picture and you were trying to make a point.

I want to thank Scott Vanatter and whom ever Indira is for submitting the closest thing to the Whomping Willow without actually be-spelling a willow. Don't judge me.

Submitted by Scott Vanatter with permission from Indira

The Dig

“It looks like the creepy Harry Potter tree.”

“Creepy Harry Potter tree!?”

“It swung at people - nasty piece of work? You don’t remember that?” She pushed her shovel down into the ground.

“Not really some of us were busy getting laid.”

“You can be so crude sometimes. Just dig.” 

Silence followed until he paused in his exertion.

“Hey wouldn’t it be funny if there was a tree like that in real life?” He said.

Above them creaking and snapping began. The ancient knotted behemoth bent forward splintering and ripping roots that moments before was held fast to the earth. It was going to kill them.

And here is an orgy of other bloggers joining in on the Hlog Bop Blog Hop. I think "Orgy" is probably too strong a word here. I don't feel like changing it though because it's 2:27 AM PST right now and I should be in bed. I will probably regret that statement later in the week.

Anyway, here is the Linky thing that gives your access to the party. Do not forget to drop by Rochelle's blog for the rules and her beautifully written submission.

Enjoy your weekend.

Friday Fictioneer Photo - The Long Weekend - It's not what you think.

I'm from the city and I love it. I'll admit that once in a while when I leave the city I get a little homesick for the noise. I don't miss the dirty air though. Or the rude people, or the street vendor food. I take that back I love street vendor food.

Copyright Douglas M Macllroy

The Long Weekend - 102 words

“What’s that smell?” Shayna gagged.

“It’s called, clean air.” Marissa inhaled deeply.  

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“Sucks for you. You need to get out of the city more often.” Maybe taking Shayna to the farm was a bad idea.

“For what? Hills? Grass? The grass looks dead and there’s no cell reception.”

“But look a horse!” She pointed to the field, which was pretty brown.

“Oh wow, a stupid horse.” Sarcasm, not necessary right now.

“You’re blowing this.”

“Blow me.” 

“What’s it doing?” Marissa ignored her.

 “Ha, Ha, maybe it’s watering the grass.” This was going to be a long weekend.

Check out the rest of the Blog Hop over on Rochelle's WordPress Blog. Of feel free to lurk on the Facebook Page. Happy Reading

The Endless Warrior Friday Fictioneer March 1, 2013

I wanted to bow out of this picture this week. The alternative was to go back to working on my dress that has been kicking my ass ALL WEEK . I won't go into much detail except for the fact that I've had to take it apart twice so far and I went through one spool of thread already.  I decided to do a little creative writing instead. Much more therapeutic than sewing.

If I can finish this I can do anything.

(Especially therapeutic if you're not that good at it. I took up sewing when I my writer's block didn't go away.)

This week's photo prompt made me think of time travel. I think it's the photos in the side compartment that do it. It also had me looking for uncommon names and going over the word count. Say hello to Ajax the warrior and Nitya the timeless.

Copyright Beth Carter

The Endless Warrior, 122 words:

Nitya heard the keys but refused to hope. Every day Ajax entered the garage, keys jangling and took the car. She knew that the car was the appropriate choice, it did not stop the hurt she felt whenever the garage door closed behind them. A glimpse of the world outside, fresh air, sky and road stretched endlessly, while she rotted inside.

The garage doors made the slow crawl upward. The car’s engine started. He parked it just outside the doors overhead. Dare she hope?

Ajax sat in the worn seat, disturbing the dust in the compartment.

“When and where to?” Nitya said hoping to not sound too eager.

“Anywhere but here.” He caressed the dashboard as she hummed to life and they disappeared.

Join the Blog Hop by first clicking on Rochelle's WordPress Blog and learning the rules, then finding your way through to the rest of the Fictioneers. Happy Reading.

Hope - Friday Fictioneers Photo Prompt

You ever just see a change coming and you feel it so much that you end up ignoring all the ones who don't believe? 

I've got "Hope" at exactly 100 words. Over on Facebook I took one look at this picture and immediately said something about fairies. Well that might happen. And then I might win the lottery too. You may never know I might come back and do a second one before Friday...

Please give some credit to Janet Webb for this picture. Trust me when I say this picture is Trashy Mass Produced Romance Novel worthy. There has to be a story behind it.

Copyright Janet Webb

Hope

“Sweet swirling onion rings, it’s disgusting.” Andrew said as the building came into view. The ramshackle roof was partially collapsed. There would be months of work to do here.

“But look at it! This place is magical!” Steph practically sang.

“A magical mess. What possesd you to buy this place?”

“He told me to.” Steph sounded infinitely sad, as she did every time “He” was mentioned.

“Steph, you need to let Tim go. Baby, he’s gone, he’s never coming back no matter how much he loved you.”

Steph waved the thought away. “We can be together here. He told me.”

Don't forget the rest of the Blog Hop. Start with Rochelle and then use the In-links thingie to read through the rest. Happy Reading.

Friday Fictioneer - Untitled 2/14/2013

I'm at a loss for what to name this one. Coming in at 104 words I'm just going to say this. If we could do things with just a though, what wouldn't or shouldn't you do?

I have to hand it to the photographer David Stewart. I really like this picture. It...Speaks...to me.

Copyright David Stewart

“You know what would be super cool, is if the statue reached out and grabbed that little kid.” He whispered into her ear. She immediately looked back at the statue.  A family positioned their two little girls beneath the statue’s outstretched hand.

“Why would you say that. you know what will happen next.” She grabbed him and hastily left the square, hoping nothing would move. Shrill cries rang out behind them, but she kept them moving further away.

“What’s wrong with you? I told you my thoughts were dangerous.” She hissed.

“Can’t you stop it?”

“No, stupid. Once they’re live I can’t do anything.” 

The direct link to all the awesome creativity for this week's blog hop is right here !!!Boop!!! But I want you to check out Rochelle's (our lovely Friday Fictioneer Hostess with the mostess)and also go find the FaceBook Page as well.

Friday Fictioneer- Waiting at the Gates

You ever start thinking in your head all kinds of messy scenarios about why your flight is late? No well I do, and so do the neurotic people I make up in my head. With that in mind, let's see what this nameless wonder does when his/her flight is late.

Copyright Rich Voza

Waiting at the Gates

You notice anything odd about that plane? It’s blocking your  gate. All the other planes are coming and going across the corridor but this one is the only plane on your side. Should you say something? What if the other travelers already said something? It’s been over an hour. The airline should say something. Did some one move in the window? Go look, take a picture.

“Attention passengers gate A-19 is now closed. Please see your nearest guest representative for new gate assignment and flight information.”

There was some one in the window. Did anyone else see that?

Rochelle- and her wonderfully purple blog  she has going is the key to all the interestingly written Friday Fictioneer stories. Unless you don't like purple then you can just click here. I'd advise not to though because her story is great.

Friday Fictioneer Photo Prompt

This week the Friday Fictioneers get Festive once again. I had to pass on it. It was just too normal.  Anyway here is the picture offered up by Scott L Vanatter

You folks can enjoy it while I get into a staring contest with the kitty on the table.

By Scott L Vanatter

Check out the other Fictioneers in the Blog Hop on this inlinks thingie.  You can also contribute your own 100 words using the same link. You can peep the Facebook page too, there's  some other information on it that might interest you.

Friday Fictioneer's - Potential

This week's Fictioneer Photo Prompt threw me for such a loop that I pretty much ignored it until I realized that I hadn't done one since the week before last. I wish I hadn't skipped last week now. But I'm going to give it a go-go and see what happens.

Copyright -Douglas M Macllroy

Potential

“The challenge is to take these random heaps of scrap and make art out of it.” The voice from video said. Its tin-like sound grated on Charity’s ears as she fidgeted with her wire cutters. “You have two days to complete your masterpiece.” 

Charity was considered dumb as rocks to the folks at school, but here in her garage she was an artistic genius. Her previous sculptures lined the shelves while she eyed the mesh wire. There was potential here and she knew it.

Charity closed her eyes the metallic scent of the wire came to her. She began to work.

Check out the other Fictioneers in the Blog Hop on this inlinks thingie.  You can also contribute your own 100 words using the same link. You can peep the Facebook page too, there's  some other information on it that might interest you.

Seeing: Friday Fictioneer

The Fictioneers are back with a new gate keeper. May I introduce Rochelle Wisoff Fields a fellow Fictioneer that took over for Madison Woods while I was doing my whole I'm not going to communicate with the world thing.  

We've got a cool challenge this week with what looks like some kind of festival in a park.  And from that I have to say kiddies I could only cut this one dow to 103 words. I was on a roll before I quit. Anyway I hope you enjoy.

Sunglasses - by Ted Strutz

Seeing 

Bailey’s head was pounding, again she revisited the scene looking for a clue about her missing brother. Normally, her ability to see back in time was easy. This time she felt like a boulder was slowly crushing her skull. There was searing piercing horrible pain. 

She focused again, first at her and her brother, then at everyone else. The woman just off the center, seemed to stare right at her. Could she see her? The pain in her head increased. The woman just faded into thin air! 

“HOW?” Bailey screamed, blood dripping from her nose. “GIVE HIM BACK.” She passed out cold, exhausted.

Check out the other Fictioneers in the Blog Hop on this inlinks thingie.  You can also contribute your own 100 words using the same link. You can peep the Facebook page too, there's  some other information on it that might interest you.

Friday Fictioneers: Toddy & Errol

This week for the Friday Fictioneers, I bring back Toddy and Errol from "A Country Walk". Once again the boys are out, walking in the country.

By Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Toddy & Errol

“You can use spiderwebs over a gash, stops the bleeding.” Toddy said to Errol.

“Yeh, well who told you that bit Toddy?” Errol didn’t really care he just wanted Toddy to shut it.

“Nobody told me Errol.” Toddy heaved himself over a fallen log. These country walks never got easier.

“Well then, you don’t know if it’s true then do you?” Errol eyed the webs over head. He whipped around scratching Toddy on his fleshy arm. “There’s the web, gotta stop the bleeding, Toddy.”

“You’re a prat, Errol.” Toddy reached for the web. He’d kill Errol for that.

For more of the Blog Hop of the Friday Fictioneers you can head over the Facebook and check out the page. On Twitter #FridayFictioners. Or you can go to Madison Woods for the rules and see a list of Fictioneer contributors and click on them at random. Happy Reading

Something's Coming: Friday Fictioneer

This week we get this unbelievably cool picture from Stacy Plowright and this time I'm not sure what to make of my story. You be the judge and don't forget to visit some others participating on this week's Friday Fictioneers.

Clouds in Toronto by Stacy Plowright

“Look outside for me. I can feel the air. Something is coming Martha.” 

“Oh don’t be silly Cheryl. If anything it’s just a storm.” Martha was tired, she’d been at work all day, she just wanted to relax. She did not want to be anyone’s eyes. Not even Cheryl’s.

“But I can feel it, Martha, something is coming.” Cheryl pleaded.

Martha huffed. She cracked and popped as she left the couch, achey bones dragging themselves to the window. 

“Oh my God, the clouds...” she gasped. They rolled in waves toward their home, heavy and dark.

“Martha? Mar-tha? MARTHA....”

For more of the Blog Hop of the Friday Fictioneers you can head over the Facebook and check out the page. On Twitter #FridayFictioners. Or you can go to Madison Woods for the rules and see a list of Fictioneer contributors and click on them at random. Happy Reading

Friday Fictioneer: The Living Mist

This week's Fictioneer Photo Prompt comes from Maggie Duncan. A member of e-Fiction and the woman who first introduced Friday Flash Fiction to me.

This picture brings back the Tia we all know and love. No sugary sweet love stories here. 

By Maggie Duncan

The Living Mist

It rolled in last week covering the shores, then it made its way past the buildings that pretended to be the port. By the time it covered the fields, forests and meadows, the country was in full scale panic. It circled the city and all the land around it, every mossy covered rock and stream.

The mist thickened just like the little girl asked. She was such a sweet girl and it would do anything to please her. She just wanted to get away from the mean people in town. Pretty soon, the mist would take it all away. 

For more of the Blog Hop of the Friday Fictioneers you can head over the Facebook and check out the page. On Twitter #FridayFictioners. Or you can go to Madison Woods for the rules and see a list of Fictioneer contributors and click on them at random. Happy Reading

Friday Fictioneers: Childhood Memories

Madison has another guest Photo Prompt this week. And boy does it bring back some good times. But I'm not looking towards the past I'm moving forward. So are these folks sort of. 

Excuse me if I gag a little. How I pulled this off with out vomiting in my mouth at it's sugary sweetness is a freaking miracle. Sadly it was my best offering. 

Photo by Lura Helms

Childhood Memories

The child inside her stretched and shifted. She framed her belly and smiled up. When she younger, this tree was the tallest peak. It was surrounded by volcanoes, and ice floats. It was a tower above a thick forest.

“I remember our first kiss.” She said. Jarred peered down the tree at his best friend. He fell in love with her, in this tree.

“Yeah, me too. I was a pirate and you were my wench.” She yawned, he climbed down.

“Well, I’m still your wench and she needs a nap.” Great another chance to hold her.

"Yaargh" 

For more of the Blog Hop of the Friday Fictioneers you can head over the Facebook and check out the page. On Twitter #FridayFictioners. Or you can go to Madison Woods for the rules and see a list of Fictioneer contributors and click on them at random. Happy Reading

Friday Fictioneers: Sand and Sea Shells

Friday Fictioneers is back this week. Last week I didn't do it I'm afraid to say. It was because the picture was too challenging. I should post the picture though just so you all could look at it. It took me places I didn't want to go in 100 words and frankly with the week I had last week I didn't need to take that trip.

I like this picture and it takes me to happy places. You can't really beat that. The only thing about this week's shortie is the fact that I've used 101 words. Darn I was on a 100 streak for a bit. Oh well you can't win them all.

This week though is a guest photo prompt from Susan Wenzel, a fellow Fictioneer.

Sand And Shells

The sun and sand are melting together. God it’s hot. I think my feet are melting, or is it my shoes?  I used to love sand. I used to love walking in wet sand and picking sea shells. That’s how I’ll get out of this. Sand and sea shells, sand and sea shells.

Let me take off my boots. Who wears boots to the beach. God I’m thirsty. I hate sand. I hate the sun. Sand and sea and sea shells, not this dry itch desert. I just need to cross half of it right? How much is half way?

For more of the Blog Hop of the Friday Fictioneers you can head over the Facebook and check out the page. On Twitter #FridayFictioners. Or you can go to Madison Woods for the rules and see a list of Fictioneer contributors and click on them at random. Happy Reading