CITYSCAPE - Flash Fiction in 100 words

CITYSCAPE

From sixty storeys aboveground I’m a god, surveying the pointless life below.

Before daybreak traffic began poisoning the air – no wonder there’s no sign of green anywhere. People poured out of subways and scurried along pavements to spend hours behind glass producing nothing of value.

I used to live down there, taking pride in my skill at ducking and diving to earn a crust while staying out of trouble. But no more – now it’s time to end it.

I move closer to the edge and leap off ...... then spread my wings in the clean air and soar away to the forest.

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The above photograph taken by Marie Gail Stratford was posted by Rochelle on her blog https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  for Friday Fictioneers. 

You can follow the lik on her blog to read other writers' takes on the prompt - after you've commented on mine, please!

And here, for your delectation, is a photograph I took last night outside my home.  

THEIR OWN HOME - flash fiction on Good Friday

To wish you all a Happy Easter, here is a happy story prompted by Ted Strutz's photograph posted on  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/
To read stories by other members of Friday Fictioneers from around the world, follow the Blue Frog trail from Rochelle's blog.

THEIR OWN HOME

“It feels like we’ll never be finished.” Julie straightened up from chasing in an electric cable and gestured at the tasks still remaining. Mark murmured sympathy, but they both knew DIY was the only way they could afford their own home.

Living with parents, working all day, then spending evenings and weekends on the house left no time or energy for romance, but Julie was bitterly disappointed when Mark forgot their anniversary.

Until she opened their new front door to the sight of a candlelit picnic table and a mass of flowers arranged with Mark’s unique sense of humour.

PINK SILK - a 100 word story

PINK SILK

Despite the relentless rain, Sanjay was happy. After months of persuasion, his parents had agreed to his marriage to Gita, a beautiful but poor girl from the wrong side of the river.

When he got home he hastened to the window and saw her at her own window, waving the scarf that had been his betrothal gift. He blew her a kiss, just as a massive chunk of the bank was torn loose and her old house slid into the river.

Hand on mouth, Sanjay watched helplessly as Gita, still holding the scrap of pink silk, was swept away downstream.

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Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog. https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/  and for taking the photograph that prompts this week's stories from around the world. Follow the Blue Frog trail from her blog to read scores of others - after leaving a comment here, if you would be so kind!

                                     

MUSIC OF THE SPHERES - flash fiction

I wrote this week's flash fiction this afternoon over a pot of tea in Tesco's cafe, and it's another 'instant story' - straight from my pen to you with minimal alterations. I hope you enjoy it, and please do leave a comment.
Thanks as always to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog - https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ - and to Emmy L Gant who took the photograph which prompted our stories.

MUSIC OF THE SPHERES

Her singing surpassed the music of the spheres and he heard the call from the far side of the sun. Flying at the speed of light, they met in the stardust of Saturn’s rings, then danced their mating ballet between the circling planets, her veils wafting inimitable colours over the night sky.

They came together in a burst of meteoric brilliance and sank in perfect synchrony to Earth, where she laid their egg. It hatched beneath the rarefied light of a blue moon and they bore it skywards.

The morning sun revealed only the skeletal remains of a shell.

DIAMONDS - a 100 word story

One advantage of writing flash fiction is that sometimes one can wake up with an idea, let it simmer while doing the weekly shop, and then write it in the time it takes to drink a coffee.
As I did this morning.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/
and to  Sean Fallon for the photograph that prompted this week's story. I hope you enjoy it - please leave a comment before moving on :)

DIAMONDS

Sango was terrified of the dark, but mining was the only employment available – he had no choice.

After a year of desperate saving he bought a head torch, which helped, but he was still afraid. Because his light found diamonds where others failed, the guards looked indulgently on the spare batteries he always carried.

Then one evening Sango endured the usual body search, left the mine, and kept on walking. Many days later, he removed the end of one battery and tipped its contents into a dealer’s hand.

He bought a plot of land with the proceeds and grew vegetables.

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THE THOMPSON TWINS

THE THOMPSON TWINS

The Thompson twins shared everything from cradle to cricket bat, so when they joined up together to fight the Kaiser, their mother comforted herself by saying, “They’ll look after each other,”

Then James was shipped home, alone, minus an arm. After two weeks he tried to re-enlist, pleading, “William needs me,” but the army’s response was brutal. “You can’t fire a rifle one-handed.”

So James took his father’s motor-car, followed the golden thread of William’s need to the Somme, and dug him alive out of an abandoned trench.

They ran the farm for decades with only one pair of arms between them.

Al Forbes' photo of vintage cars sporting Remembrance poppies prompted my 100 word story this week. Thanks as always to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers. To read how other writers interpreted the photo go to her blog https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ - after leaving a comment on mine, naturally!

EVER-ROLLING STREAM - a 100-word story

EVER-ROLLING STREAM

The man’s complexion had paled to a dirty grey with pain when the small plane took off from Lusaka.

“All right back there?” the pilot called over the drone of the engine.

“The surgeon’s waiting in Johannesburg,” Doctor Luke replied, “Just get us there as quickly as possible.”

The lovely landscape flowed by smoothly – until a boiling column of cloud grew out of nowhere and lifted them thousands of terrfying feet before flinging them clear.

“That was close!” the pilot gasped, but then the plane dropped through an airless pocket, and cartwheeled down to crash in flames on the beautiful, deadly African ground.

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This photograph of a lovely sand-timer was taken by Sandra Crook, one of the writers who post a 100 word story each week for Friday Fictioneers, via Rochelle's blog  https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/

The words from Isaac Watts' hymn came into my head - "Time, like an ever-rolling stream, bears all its sons away" and I remembered, as I often do, my mother's son, my baby brother Luke. This happened 30 years ago.
Here is a link to read the entire hymn: - http://www.traditionalmusic.co.uk/hymn-lyrics/o_god_our_help_in_ages_past.htm