KITCHEN SINK DRAMA - a story in 100 words

KITCHEN SINK DRAMA

“I really don’t understand why you did it, after all these years.”

“That’s just it – years of the same irritating little things are like Chinese water torture, drip-drip-dripping until you could scream. At breakfast, for example, leaving the lid off the marmalade, toast crumbs in the butter...”

“I agree that’s annoying, but...”

“Dirty socks on the floor, changing channels without asking...”

“My Jim does that too, but even so...”

“He promised to fix the tap months ago. I was making pastry with that drip getting louder and louder – it was just his bad luck I was holding the rolling pin.”

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I assure you this is fiction - honest! Aren't we writers lucky we can take our frustrations out in words? 

Thanks to Ronda del Boccio for the photo and to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog. https://rochellewisoff.com/     You can read what others made of the prompt by following the frog from there, after you've commented on my story first, naturally!

SHOPPING - a hundred word story

SHOPPING

Joan managed their pensions with an iron fist but, as she divided bargain mince into plastic boxes, Andrew ventured, “I’d love a steak sometimes.”

“I’d love a Caribbean holiday,” Joan snapped, slamming the freezer door. “Now where’s my purse?”

“How should I know? I’m not allowed to touch money.” Andrew sipped his coffee and watched her search her handbag and her pockets without success. “Did you open that window?” he asked.

“Yes – it’s stuffy in here.”

As the net curtains wafted in the breeze, Joan slumped into her chair – stolen! - even mince would be off the menu next week.
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I must admit that Joan has an element of me in her makeup, as I too buy food when it's on offer and freeze it in batches. So far - touch wood - I have not had my purse stolen!


This week has been a busy one so far, with various appointments already and more to come. As I have picked up a cold - I blame my granddaughter - I shall be driving to those under the influence of medication! The sore throat did not stop me from carving a pumpkin to display on my doorstep tomorrow. That's a home-grown Scotch bonnet chilli beside it  :) Happy Hallowe'en!

The photo that prompted this week's rash of stories in Friday Fictioneers was taken by Fatima Deria and posted by Rochelle on  https://rochellewisoff.com/

FIFTY-ODD YEARS AGO - 100 words prompted by a photograph

FIFTY-ODD YEARS AGO

Back then The Pill was only available to married women, and I wasn’t married, so my first visit to the ante-natal clinic was fraught with embarrassment. When the nurse said I would miscarry unless I had hormone injections, and suggested it might solve my problem, I was reduced to tears. My boyfriend and I wanted this baby, I told her.

I was injected so often my backside resembled a pincushion, and despite the stress our baby flourished.

We had four children in all, with injections each time, and they are worth every blunt needle.

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Fact this week instead of fiction - once I spotted that pincushion I couldn't think of a different story. Those children have given me five grandchildren now, and I consider myself very fortunate to have all of them.

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and to Jean L Hays for the photograph.

THE BIG MATCH - a 100 word story

THE BIG MATCH

“Tell me again how we got into this?” Michael said.

“You know the Boss can never resist a challenge.”

“But for Heaven’s sake – seven-a-side football?”

“We’ll beat them,” Gabe said confidently and led his team onto the field.

With such high stakes it was a hard-fought game but, despite the other team’s dirty tricks, Peter refereed impartially, and the scores were even until the final minute.

Then Uriel fired a shot that flew into the corner of the opposition’s net, the whistle blew, and the crowd went wild, throwing their haloes in the air – the Archangels had triumphed again.

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Just a bit of fun this week - light relief from the final chapter of a rewrite of Rock Fall, Book 3 in my Living Rock series. Now would be a good time to read the first two books, A Volcanic Race and Wolf Pack, both of which are available on Amazon.

Thands to Rochelle for the above photo and for hosting Friday Fictioneers. You can read what other writers have been inspired to write by following the Blue Frog trail from her blog at  https://rochellewisoff.com/

RELATIVES - a hundred word story

RELATIVES

All the other kids in our neighbourhood had hordes of relatives. Christmas, weddings, christenings and even funerals were raucous affairs that often spilled into the street, sometimes ending in fisticuffs.

Once I asked Mum where our family was, but she yelled, “We have no-one but ourselves,” and then hugged me. She sounded so sad that I never asked again.

After her funeral I drank a large whiskey before I tackled her bedroom. One drawer was crammed with photographs – her parents, perhaps, uncles, aunties and cousins. My family.

 I searched every face but not one was brown like me.

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Families are strange creatures - a tower of strength for some, a pain in the butt for others. Some people, like me, have such a ream of cousins that they can't keep track, others can count their family members on one hand. And there are always secrets, some small, some so enormous that they remain hidden - until after the funeral.

Thanks to Ted Strutz for this week's Friday Fictioneers photo prompt, and to Rochelle for hosting this bunch of diverse writers on her blog.  https://rochellewisoff.com/

TWO GIRLS TALKING - a story in exactly 100 words

This story has been simmering since yesterday but that was also my husband's birthday, so cake-making had to take precedence. It does seem that if I don't get my story out on Wednesday I don't receive nearly so many comments, but that's life, I guess.
Thanks to Dale for the photo and to Rochelle for running the entire Friday Fictioneers shebang on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/
ps. I do hope this actually IS a baseball pitch - not being American or Canadian I can only surmise!
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TWO GIRLS TALKING                                    

‘How’s the big romance going?’

‘All he thinks about is baseball. Our dates consist of holding hands on a hard wooden bench – I’ve had so many splinters my behind looks like a pincushion.’

‘So tell him you want to be taken out for a romantic meal.’

‘Didn’t you see the photo? It was all over Facebook – I nearly died of embarrassment – a table smack bang in the middle of the pitch.’

‘At least he’d made the effort to carry it out there – and getting the pizza delivered can’t have been easy.’

‘Huh! There wasn’t even a candle on the table!’

KEEPING UP APPEARANCES - a 100 word story

It's Thursday, so I'm only a day late on parade this week. My excuses are manifold - I am heavily involved in our local Arts Festival, we had a leaking pipe that almost brought down the kitchen ceiling, and the tail end of a hurricane has battered my garden. It's only a very small plot, so tidying up didn't take too long, but the sunflowers are definitely looking ragged in the petal area.

Which leads me nicely into telling you about a bit of verse I wrote a long time ago, about a different garden, and linked this week to Twitter, where one of the vss365 prompt words was 'garden'. You are cordially invited to pop over to my 'VERSES' page and read it.

And finally, welcome to Carole Anne Carr, my 103rd 'follower' - thank you, Carole, for taking the trouble to read my stuff!

Meanwhile, here's this week's story, prompted by a photo on Rochelle's blog,   https://rochellewisoff.com/      
Photo taken by  Na'ama Yehuda.

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KEEPING UP APPEARANCES

‘Take your umbrella, Sanji.’

‘But Mother – it’s so old-fashioned.”

‘A hundred other boys wanted that Government job but you won – carrying an umbrella is expected.’

So Sanji took the despised umbrella, with its curved handle worn smooth by his father and grandfather, and hung it beside his coat.

When the flash flood hit town unexpectedly, the umbrella’s metal tip broke through the office ceiling, the handle hooked a rafter, enabling Sanji and his colleagues to climb to the roof, and its black silken circle sheltered them until rescue arrived.

Eventually Sanji passed the treasured umbrella down to his son.

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Do please leave a comment before you go - on this story and on my bit of verse!