From Afar

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

 Copyright –   Jellico’s Stationhouse

The soft afternoon light follows the shadows waltzing across the wall, like a lover following the one who offers only a heartbreak. Curtains part before a breeze that carries the fragrance of spring flowers and something long forgotten. The music sneaks around the old furniture, whimsically scattered across the room. Two entangled bodies reflect in the large mirror at the foot of the bed, offering a splendid portrait of wasted chances. A long-case clock in the corner mocks the thieves, as the stolen time slips away.

His arms hold me tight.

This wont last.

But I don’t care about tomorrow.

Home

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

 Copyright –   Jennifer Pendergast

“Hard to imagine it was once blue, isn’t it Grandpa?”

Ryōkan watched his granddaughter, nose and hands pressed to the window, her imagination trying to transform brown planet into an aquarelle of blues and greens.

“I don’t have to imagine, I remember.”

With an ease enabled by the low gravity field, Kahouru pushed against the window and glided towards Ryōkan.

“I wish we could go back.”

Kissing the top of her head, Ryōkan offered his pocket watch to Kahouru. The old broken thing with an image of the Earth elicited the sweetest smile from the girl.

“Maybe in another lifetime.”

You Carry Me

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

 Copyright –   Shaktiki Sharma

“One, two, three…One, two, three…turn to your left. And again!”

I was there once. Feet softly touching the ground, your arms lifting me up in the air, my hands reaching for the sky. I never counted the steps, never thought about the moves. We were liquid magic, barely standing still.

“Two, two, three…Two, two, three…Release!”

I stand still now. Watching someone else dance my dreams away. The paralyzing pain comes in waves, crashing over me, leaving me breathless.

But you are here, lifting me up, whispering softly:

“One, two, three…One, two, three…Fly!”

You carry me.

Pale Blue Dot

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

january-snowfall-nighttime

 Copyright –  Sarah Potter

The view up here is beautiful, the splendor of my home below more distant every minute. Everything I ever knew and loved is there. DNA of my ancestors and my descendants compressed in building blocks of future. And still…there is this calmness I feel, the sense of fulfillment as I reach for my final frontier.

My great-grandmother taught me to look up, to search the sky: “One day you could be up there.”
“But I am not a bird.”
She would smile and caress my cheek: “No, you are a ray of light.”

Here I am, soon to become just that.

Where there were snowflakes, I saw galaxies. This week’s offering is an excerpt from the short story I wrote some time ago. I am working on a longer version, but you can check the original with all its imperfections. 🙂

Make It Count

 

Balloons And Other Trifles

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

diner-roger-bultot

 Copyright –   Roger Bultot

I left him standing there…an old man with a bunch of balloons hovering above his bald head. He looked kind of funny, in his three-piece gray suit, firmly holding  those silly reminders of our silly relationship.

“As the sad stories go, ours was not the most tragic one…but it still hurts.”

It took me just a fraction too long to smile back. But I just couldn’t find the words. Then again, some things are better left unsaid…

Under the watchful eyes of his guards, I kissed him on a cheek and whispered softly into his beard: “Goodbye, Your Highness.”

The Crest

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

campsite-jwf

 Copyright –  Jan Wayne Fields

PCT Day 159, Miles 2551

I feel pain in unfamiliar parts of my body, the parts you acknowledge only when you are hurting. My sleeping bag is thin as a single sheet of paper and rain pushes through a tiny hole in the upper left corner of my tent. Potato soup is unappealing and tasteless as ever, but I am saving my last chocolate bar with the desperation of a wild thing.

Still…there is this feeling of equanimity. With the end in sight, I feel like a winner for the first time in my life. I just had to find myself.

—> PCT <—

Evanescence

Time for another entry in Friday Fictioneers challenge, courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you want to give it a try, check the info on her blog. 100 words more or less, inspired by a photo, here we go….

ceayr-purple-door

 Copyright –  CEayr

His neighbors were used seeing his hunched figure sitting on a bench, unconsciously caressing a wedding band on his right hand, occasionally dozing off.

Few remembered his late wife, even fewer knew his name. With the same ease they failed to see his sorrow and regret, they failed to notice when his head touched his chest.

The coroner would later find a carefully folded note in the left breast pocket of his white shirt…a faded piece of paper with neatly written words that offered a heartbreak on a repeat.

“I am sorry for quenching your fire with my tears.”