BLUE - a story in a hundred words.

Foreword!

Memory's a funny thing.
I last saw this image in 2013, yet I recognised it instntly, and I also recalled the story I wrote seven years ago - I even remembered the title, so it was easy to find in my archives!
So here it is again, with only a couple of tweaks and no apology - I think it's worth another outing - what's your opinion?

Oh yes, and thanks to Jean L Hays for the photo and Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog.  https://rochellewisoff.com/
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BLUE

If I stand on a chair I can see people through the dolphin window. The postman’s face looks really funny all blue, like an alien. So does Daddy’s, but he turns pink indoors, which is so boring.

When Mummy came home from hospital last week I waved at her, but she didn’t wave back because she was holding our new baby. His face changed to pink in the house too, but I wished it would stay blue like my Smurfs.

Then yesterday Mummy screamed “He’s turning blue!” and the ambulance came.

Did I kill my baby brother with my wish?

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For thos who don't know what they are, this is a Smurf. My children used to collect little plastic models of them, and there are several films.

WINDOWS - a story in 100 words

WINDOWS

     Looking out of this window I am twenty again, in my first flat, swallowing tears and trying not to admit I’m homesick to Dad, who is fixing my aerial. I might stay here all day.

Yesterday’s window was open to Mediterranean air, the rattle of palm leaves in the breeze and click of cicadas.

Tomorrow – who knows? As long as my memory still functions I can be anywhere I choose. Anywhere other than here.

I always imagined my last sight on this earth would be my children’s faces, not bare white walls, zigzag lines on a screen, and masked strangers.

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I'm still here, still fighting, still writing - though not as much as I should, but this pandemic seems to have frozen some of my brain! One bright note is that I am now in a bubble with my daughter and granddaughter, and was able yesterday to pick our five-year-old up from school, bring her home with me, and dig potatoes. Simple joys make life worth living.

This week's photo prompt took me to a darker place, somewhere I hope not to experience personally, but I know people who have been there.

Thanks to Rochelle for the photo and for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/

UNTIL THAT NIGHT - a story in a hundred words

UNTIL THAT NIGHT

It was our dream house thirty years ago. Children raced round its rooms, their laughter bouncing off the walls, and the house itself smiled. Perfect.

Until that night we left a window open.

Now we creep around in silence, brittle as glass, afraid of breaking our fragile union. Happiness has vanished – in fact we barely speak at all – and the house sags around us for lack of love. The window stays open – there’s nothing worth stealing now.

He wants us to leave – ‘move on’ he calls it – but what if she returns and I’m not here?

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Friday Fictioneers is a group of roughly 70 writers who produce a 100 word story each week from a photo prompt. This week's photo is by Yarnspinnerr and posted on Rochelle's blog https://rochellewisoff.com/ - thanks Rochelle.

I am celebrating - quietly - having reached the end of the latest draft of Wolf Pack,   the second book in my Living Rock series. To read the first book click on the link at the top of this page.

A CARD IN THE WINDOW - 100 word fiction

A CARD IN THE WINDOW

“A lovely morning, madam.”

“Not according to those clouds – give me a chicken breast, please.”

 “This one’s big enough for two people.”

“But I live alone.”

“Then you should contact this lady who’s seeking a friend.”

“I don’t answer strangers’ advertisements in shop windows.”

“Strangers are only friends you haven’t met.”

“I will think about it, Mr Clark, but I must get home before it rains.”

………………………………………

“Madam! Where have you been all week?”

“I caught a cold in that rainstorm on Tuesday – why do you ask?”

“A lady who answered that advert was murdered – I thought it was you.”

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This story is adapted from one I wrote last year for a writers' forum - even stories can be recycled! I almost didn't post an entry this week - my mood was too accurately depicted by the grey clouds of the photo prompt after we lost our lovely cat Kika. Her tribute follows this blog if you care to read it. 

Stories by other Friday Fictioneers can be found by following the link on this site:  http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/

FRIDAY FICTION - BLUE

Friday Fictioneers is contributed to by writers from all round the world. We write 100-word stories prompted by a photograph posted on this site

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/

This week’s stories are on here  http://new.inlinkz.com/luwpview.phpid=346495 

so do check them out.

Here is this week's photograph . . . 

. . .  and my story.

BLUE

If I stand on a chair I can see people through the dolphin window.

The postman’s face looks really funny all blue, like an alien.

So does Daddy’s, but it turns pink indoors which is soooo boring.

When Mummy came home from hospital last week I waved, but she didn’t wave back because she was holding our new baby.

His face changed to red indoors, but I wished it would stay blue like my Smurf.

Then yesterday Mummy was screaming, “He’s turning blue!”

Daddy cried too, which was even worse.

Did I kill my brother with my wish?