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No Way In
It’s time for Friday Fictioneers again! It’s hard to believe a whole week has passed already. Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle, and we all try to write a 100 word post in response to a photo prompt, which this week is supplied by Rich Voza.
This week’s prompt is rife with possibilities – and I got nuffin’! Therefore I’m going to try a spot of dialogue with a truly silly ending. I’m even popping it in my “Just Silly” category :-). A bit of mid-week madness, if you will.
To view others’ entries, click here!
Copyright Rich Voza
“What the… what’re those doors doing sat there like that?”
“Dunno, man. Weird. What’re you doing?”
“Looking for the hidden cameras.”
“I don’t see any.”
“Me neither. Hey, what’s this chap up to?”
“Aaargh! No!” yelled the new arrival, skidding to a stop.
“What’s wrong, man?”
“Don’t you see? Look!”
“What, the weird doors?”
“Yeah! Someone’s stolen my house!”
“Your house?”
“Yeah! They’ve just left the doors!”
The new arrival looked thoughtful and then began to laugh.
“What’s so funny? Someone’s just stolen your house!”
“The joke’s on them!” he giggled. “How are they gonna get in without the doors?”
One Last Job
It’s Friday Fictioneers time again, hosted by Rochelle! Today’s photo prompt, to which we attempt to write a 100 word story or poem or such, is provided by John Nixon. To view all the entries for this week click here – check back often as more are added through the week!
Copyright John Nixon
The old man tottered into the shop and pointed his walking stick at the sales girl.
“This is a hold up. Hand over the wedding dress in the window!”
“That’s a walking stick, Sir,” said the girl, unimpressed.
“Is it? Wanna bet your life on that?”
A security guard joined the debate.
“Please lower your walking stick and leave the store, Sir.”
A moment later the old man left the shop, dress over one shoulder. Former master armourer to the notorious Gianni family, he blew a little smoke from the end of his stick and walked off down the street.
Puppetmaster
Here is my submission for this week’s 100 word Friday Fictioneers photo prompt! This week our host Rochelle has submitted one of her own photos. Here goes!
Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Garvin stood back, admiring his collection. A toy car, a pram – he had spent years gathering these trinkets, though none held any meaning for him.
Anyone who had ever hurt him, anyone who’d treated him like dirt – he’d stolen something of great sentimental value to them. Seventh Son of a Seventh Son, none had known the power running through his veins.
The power to control others.
Where to start… yes! He fetched the photograph belonging to the boy who’d treated him like a slave at school and began to chant.
Now it was Garvin’s turn to be the Puppetmaster.
Denied
Here is my entry for this week’s Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle! This week the photo was taken by Dawn M. Miller.
Copyright Dawn M. Miller
With barely a sound the skylight slid open and a dark figure slipped down on a harness to hover just above the display cases. A bead of sweat escaped from underneath his balaclava to drop with a splash on the toughened glass covering the priceless jewellery.
The rope jerked, making the figure look up to see his associates gesticulating – “Hurry up”! He reached down tentatively, carefully, when suddenly…
… the scene changed to a cartoon rabbit.
“Hey, I was watching that!”
“You’ve seen it before, love.”
“No, this is Jewellery Heist Seven – One Last Job!”
“WATCH THE CARTOON!”
“Yes dear.”
You can check out other entries for this week’s Friday Fictioneers here.
The Hesitant Stonemason
I thought I’d have a go at “Friday Fictioneers”. This is hosted by Rochelle and is a photo prompt. The kicker – it has to be as close to 100 words as possible! I started writing and after the opening paragraph it was already over 50 words! Some rewriting was required.
I had to do something similar when I was at school. My mini-story made perfect sense – to me. And no-one else! So I’m having another go after all these years. The prompt this week is a beautiful picture of a church, supplied by Claire Fuller.
Copyright Claire Fuller
Edelric walked hesitantly up to the church’s door. A stonemason, he appreciated the workmanship of the Norman invaders, even as he hated them for their recently enforced rule.
“Don’t go into the church! You’re evil, son! You’ll be struck down!” his Mother had said.
Was that true? He was mean when drunk, but every man beat his wife, didn’t he? He’d once enjoyed torturing the village cat, but surely that didn’t count?
His hand hovered over the latch. He began to sweat.
Edelric trusted his Mother. He turned and walked back to the village.
“Not today,” he decided. “Not today.”
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