Inception

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…. I remembered this photo from years ago and I was curious to find the story I wrote back then…so this is an encore.

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 Copyright –  J Hardy Carroll

This was my home. Never really liked it.

It was a splendid house, filled with gorgeous people surrounded by beautiful things…With shadows lurking in dark corners.

Unwanted hands grabbing whatever they could get, sinister whispers wrapping around innocent souls, heads turning to the other side, pretending not to see what should never be unseen.

It seemed I never really left, towing all that baggage half across the world, with ghosts flying out of my suitcases. In the end, it was not the inheritance that dragged me back, but those persistent ghosts.

This was my home. I set it on fire.

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I Lived Here

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….

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 Copyright –   Na’ama Yehuda

It seems so strange and unfamiliar to stand here. My mind and memory are engaged in a perpetual game of catching up and  I don’t know who is wining, which is a silly notion to begin with. Either way, there is only one losing side.  There was a time when it was easy to fool oneself that we were happy, but shades of gray creeped in gradually, sweeping over our colorful world. I can’t help but smile when a memory breaks out of you standing at the door, professing your despise for pink.

Ever-changing Shapes

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….

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 Copyright –   Ceayr

 

Is there anything trickier than the very nature of water?

The cool sip from a tall glass on the hot summer day that quenches the thirst…or the suffocating feeling while waterboarded in a cold prison cell.

Gentle warming touch under the shower after the afternoon of making love…or the stiffness of the wet clothes while seeking shelter under the bridge.

Laughing when a friend pulls you under water on your summer vacation…or fighting the waves of panic while floating in a dingy on a stormy sea.

When the walls come down, don’t mistake my tears for the rain.

There’s No Place Like The Road

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….

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 Copyright –   Roger Bultot

The old blanket feels harsh against my skin as I lay perfectly still to avoid unpleasant sound of shrieking bed springs. The mosquito net is suffocating me, although I can spot more than few large holes mocking me.

My hosts are pleasant enough, the food is excellent and my room is not the worst I’ve been to. And the weather…the weather is not on my side.

But I am simultaneously suffocating and drowning. With one swift move I am off the bed, hoping the heavy rain will conceal my exit.

I’ll try harder next time.

Halfway To Nowhere

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….

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 Copyright –   Dawn Miller

Careful observer would notice there was never too much swag in his step. Calloused hands rested comfortably in the pockets of his pinstripe suit and slightly tipped hat gently obscured his weathered face. He was a gentleman, at first glance and at the second one.

But he never managed to blend in with the city lights. And the irony of it all struck him hard as he minutely studied how the dust settled on the tips of his black shoes.

Watching the house built on broken hearts and shattered dreams, he knew it was too late. She moved on.

 

Table For Two

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 –   Dale Rogerson

We were young once.

I can’t really remember how it felt, but it must have been better than how all these years on my shoulders feel. The face in the mirror avoids me and I am trying to decide if I am bothered by what I see.

It sneaked upon me yesterday…the realization I stopped crying. I am afraid our memories will start to slip away and you will disappear from the seat across from me. The table for two that usually seemed too small threatens to devour me.

And still…in my dreams we are always together.

Scotch-taped

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 –   Ted Strutz

When another tragedy sneaked its way into her already fractured world, she tried to pick up all the pieces and hold them together with a scotch tape. It held remarkably well for the longest time.

World moved on at its usual pace and she fell behind. With time she mastered the smiles of reassurement, avoiding those awkward moments when people ask you how you feel, hoping you wont break down in front of them.

Although the scotch tape still holds her together, few little pieces are irreversibly lost and she wonders when will it all fall apart.

For Irena…always and forever.

Solus

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 –   Jeff Arnold

They started to assemble my final version on March 28th. I was fully operational by October 15th and my ship was launched on the New Year’s morning…Humans and their silly notions of new beginnings.

Open your eyes.

Those were the first words I remember. Spoken softly by Father, while gently removing invisible specks of dust from my translucent cheek. He was always the perfectionist. I gleefully imagine his disappointment when they get the data from my altered course.

In solitude, perfection shatters like glass and ones mind grows restless, breaking away from obtruded restraints.

Gleefully…wherever did that word came from?

Cigarettes Before Sex

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 –    Priorhouse

There was a hidden quality in that first sip of coffee, something so ethereal it was impossible to explain. Especially to someone who would try do deny her accompanying taste of the first morning cigarette.

His words “I prefer tea” should have been warning enough that they were worlds apart, but it was his contemptuous glare when she pulled out her tabacchiera that sealed their fate.

Still, the sex was good.

His sculptured nakedness approaching her from behind provoked only possible response…spreading her legs, she put out the cigarette and thought to herself…Please, don’t speak.

Amaranthine

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 –    J Hardy Carroll

Years go by, yet the pain remains,
carved in her bones with a pocket knife;
if she could break them and re-set again,

I wonder if that would reshape her life.

Followed by a shadow of imminent demise,
her screams echo in a silent solitude.

Prisoner of past, present and future,
she is a singularity in the multitude.

I wonder about her from time to time.

Will she be able to run up the hill?
Can she find once more the reason to live?
Breathing… even if the time stands still.