I got a notice that someone named caroljforrester had ‘liked’ a story called Displaced that I had written. Her name sounded familiar, but my story did not, so I had to go back and look. It is one I really liked, because it was about when I lived in Chicago… I should write about that time, I wish I had taken more photos then. This story recalls when we would close down the bar and go out for something to eat at 3 a.m. I thought I would bring it back into the light of day.
This was the first post for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, after she took over the helm of the Friday Fictioneers writing group. When I saw the photo I thought “What the Hell?” Then I thought deeper and the prompting process took over… funny how that happens. I hope you enjoy reading Displaced. Here is a link to Friday Fictioneers… see what they are up to now.
It’s been three months now. The shakes have gotten worse. Chef dropped the plate off at the counter, and plodded back to the grill. 3 a.m., liver and onions, bacon and eggs, whores and drunks. Oh well, life at the Huddle House in Chicago.
Lit a cig and stirred the hash browns around. Needed a drink.
Have to remember to put cream down on the 86 board, so they order in the morning. At least he won’t be there listening to the customers bitch if they forget. At 3 a.m they don’t care about cream.
Big slide from the Palmer House.
Friday Fictioneers 100Word Flash Fiction… with the debut of new head honcho Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Her photo prompt gave me this story from my Chicago days. To read her story, and find out more about the Friday Fictioneers… CLICK HERE … Why don’t you join us with one…
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