Living on a sheep ranch, internet shopping was the best way to get groceries. Unfortunately, Dave’s new bride Stella didn’t stop at food. First his old furniture needed replacing, and admittedly his bed-linen was past its best, but when the red silk dress arrived he’d had enough. “A spell up-country will teach you to appreciate nature instead of shop goods,” he said, and drove them deep into the bush.

After setting up camp Dave went hunting, but when he returned he found Stella unpacking a box. “I ordered two comfy chairs,” she said happily, “They were a Black Friday bargain.”

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers - an online group of people who write a 100 word story each week prompted by a photograph. This week's photo was taken by Jan Wayne Fields. To read how other wirters interpreted it, go to  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ , after commenting on my story first, please!
ps. for those who don't live in England, this is the week we have been 'enjoying' that American import - Black Friday sales.


CHAINS - a 90 word story


I was twelve when the trader threw my dead mother overboard and kept me for himself. 

He sold the beautiful babies I bore him, then took a younger girl to his bed and sold me to a rich businessman.

I cooked and cleaned for them, nursed their children, ate only their scraps. At night they locked me in the outhouse – on the back of that door I scratched every day of my years of slavery.

Until I was rescued I didn’t even know how to use a mobile phone.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ from whence you can follow the link to read other stories prompted by CEAyr's photograph.


FINAL CONCERT - 100 word fiction


Barbara always carried her own cello – the famous musician wheeling her large case on a railway porter’s trolley was a familiar sight in cities across Europe.
She never let an audience down, and although the Germans were advancing at a terrifying rate, she refused to cancel her final concert in Paris.
It was June 1940 when she approached the checkpoint, where the officer in charge waved her though, saying, “I heard you play in Berlin, Fraulein - exquisite.”
By the time the authorities found her abandoned cello, three small, bewildered children were stretching their cramped limbs on English soil.
Yet another photograph to prompt 100 word stories from us, the Friday Fictioneers group hosted by Rochelle on her blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  
The photo was taken by Bjorn Rudberg, who will correct me if the instrument is a double bass, but cello is only one word and in this forum every word counts!




“Come on Stanley – time’s a-wasting.” The voice was stern and Stanley grabbed the nearest blanket, reaching the exit before he read the label - Artist. 
His heart sank. Briefly he considered pretending he’d read it as Artisan, but with the supervisor watching, he yielded to the inevitable and took off.
Stanley searched the town carefully, but he had almost given up when he saw it. He laughed so hard he almost dropped his bundle. With a roof so glorious, this had to be the place, and with a practised swoop the job was done.
One baby artist safely delivered to her mother.
I hope this step into fantasy gives you a few moments of pleasure -  and respite from this traumatic week suffered by the entire world, and especially America, which has my deepest sympathy.
Thanks as always to  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  for hosting Friday Fictioneers, and this week to Sandra Crook for the photograph of that glorious roof which inspired my story, plus the other stories you can read by following the links from Rochelle's blog.




“Dad! Jason pinched me!”
“If you don’t stop fighting I’m throwing you out.”
“You wouldn’t,” said Carrie, digging her elbow into Jason’s ribs, and Pete lost his temper completely. It was almost midnight, the Hallowe'en party had been a washout, and he was exhausted. Screeching to a halt at the roadside store, he pushed them out of the car and drove off, reckoning ten minutes should teach them a lesson.
But when he returned they weren’t there – and neither was the store. Only a local drunk who told him, “That store only appears at Hallowe'en. It’s always gone by midnight.”

I wrote this story in response to the above photo promt, taken by Jean L Hayes and posted on Rochelle's blog -  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  from whence you can follow the Blue Frog link to read other stories by Friday Fictioneers. After commenting on mine, if you would be so kind!