NO SHOE PRINTS?
“So what were they doing again?” asked the Sergeant.
“They were running around.”
“Running around. Naked, you say?”
“Yes, running around naked!”
“So, they didn’t have any clothes on then?”
“No, they didn’t have any fucking clothes on, they were naked!”
“Sergeant, we’ve finished checking the area and judging by the footprints in the garden there may be as many as six trespassers.”
“Based on the different shoe patterns?”
“No sir, no shoe prints, just bare feet prints.”
“So no shoes then?”
“Oh for fucking Christ! I told you they were naked!!!”
“Oh right, you did. We’ll look into it.”
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This is one I wrote based on the artwork above for another writing group I was in and have not been able to find who made the image. I would love to know who did it so I could give proper credit, but as soon as I saw it the story seemed to write itself.
It is a take off on Salvador Dali’s famous work.
Walter took the stage to perform the deadliest feat of his career… The Wall of Water!
The audience gasped as he started to drown, but the ring of his bedside alarm saved him.
Yesterday I came across this story written last July. I was in the mountains and was not able to publish by the Trifextra deadline due to spotty internet. I was ticked, since I thought this was a good one. I decided to let it see the light of day and add to The Trifectra Writing Challenge, even thought it is a little late. Maybe they won’t notice it’s not following this week’s prompt.
The illustration is a still from the 1953 film ‘Houdini’, starring Tony Curtis and Janet Leigh.
IT’S BEEN 1 YEAR SINCE I WROTE MY FIRST FICTION PIECE… HERE IT IS…
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“Coffee, Tea or Me?”
Oh God, Renee’s in her stewardess mode again. She should know by now I don’t like to play “Fly Me to the Moon”.
“Come on, let’s get you undressed Mr. Grumpy-face”.
Ooh… watch it with the arm, bitch. Why can’t Jan do this? I hate Renee’s baths, she gets the water too cold, and leaves me sitting too long.
“Big day today, sweetheart. Do you want to wear the blue shirt or the tan one.”
Why does she always ask me? I don’t even remember what blue looks like.
“Okay then, the blue one.”
Big thanks to Rich Voza for taking this week’s Photo Prompt for the Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Flash Fiction.
If you want to join in with your some of own writing, see Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
The familiar faces adorning the entrance to the Globe Theatre emerged from the fog, reminding Mr. James Teach how much in demand his services were. With his lithe frame and lyric voice he always got the part. Problem was, he was tired of playing maidens.
The Drury Lane manager had put in a good word to the playwright of a new work about a prince in Denmark. James was confident of landing the part of Laertes, he had been practicing sword-fighting for days now.
There was the familiar bald pate.
“Ah, Mr. Teach, how would you like to play Ophelia?”
My 100 Word Flash Fiction based on the photo by sculptor and writer Claire Fuller of one of her works. Thanks once again to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers. To read all the stories inspired by Claire’s piece, go here…
100 Word Flash Fiction
One last lingering kiss.
A union forbidden by centuries old taboo. But, will love conquer all? We think not. See those eyes watching through the fronds?
It had been a glorious few days, despite their constant worry. They had been careful though, and true love had blossomed from lust. They hoped to unite, not only themselves but their people. It was time to return, and as he headed to the outrigger, he took one last look at her lithe figure disappearing into the palms to her family home.
The eyes followed her… it was many months before he heard the news.
Rochelle sent all The Fictioneers a beautiful photo that Renee Heath, at Rendezvous With Renee, took at her daughter’s wedding. It is such a beautiful wedding aisle, I wonder who or what will be walking down it today, after the Friday Fictioneers get their hands on it. They can be a blood thirsty lot. If you want to know more about 100 Word Flash Fiction and The Friday Fictioneers go see Rochelle and join in with your story. To see Renee and other’s stories go here…
“Mr. Watson–come here–I want to see you.”
“Doug! Get off the damn line! I’m so sorry Parul, you can always tell when someone is eavesdropping.
“Operator… May I help you?”
“Is that you Janet? Can you hear me? It’s Rich!”
“The number you have reached has been disconnected, and there is no new number.”
“A gracious good morning to you… have I reached the party to whom I’m speaking?”
“If you would like to make a call, please hang up and dial again.”
“Hi this is Ted (very perky voice)… leave a message and I’ll call you back.”
I’ll just phone this one in to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers… To see other writer’s stories inspired by Rochelle’s photo…
Oh, say can you see by the dawn’s early light…
The constant sawing of the strings entering Madison’s head was going to make her brain burst.
She had loved doing her chores while listening to her daughter practice her clarinet. The lilting sounds were soothing and even energized her. But, Roxanne mastered that one, and moved on to a new instrument.
Madison could not understand why the girl had to try something new when she was so talented. Maybe she should limit her practice time. But, no, that wouldn’t be right… Ma knew the ya-ya would sound like yo-yo soon.
You know she is coming. The Mother of All Bitches.
You thought, if you hide in a dark place and lay very still she might miss you. It never seems to work that way. With the lights, she arrives.
Your skin is starting to tingle. It won’t be long now. She stays longer each visit. You hope for a different side this time.
Oh, your family has been very helpful, although you can detect a certain disbelief that she is not as bad as claimed.
You have heard acupuncture helps, but no time for that… the auras are getting worse.
The photo prompt comes from A Writer’s Perch this week. Lora Mitchell was good enough to send Rochelle a pic from her New Year’s Celebration. After reading Rochelle’s story, click on the Frog to see other Friday Fictioneer’s takes.
Chairs… or lack of.
It was down to ergonomics now. Douglas had his proven recipes, and even decided on the background music. But to lure people in to clack away on the next Great American Novel required comfort. And, Doug planned big. Soon maybe the next Canterbury Tales or something for Bollywood… as he was going global with his empire. Colors, fabrics and shapes danced in his head, as did slogans, jingles and logos.
The honking horn broke his reverie. Doug slid open the window and put out his tip jar. The silver mini-van pulled up with his first customer.
A beautiful photo prompt this week by Rochelle‘s friend, Jean Hays, who created the Ab Fab stained glass panel. When I was in Sacramento, I lived on Fulton Ave. I wonder what is at 708? Maybe this coffee shop.