Where have you gone,
can you not see me,
hear me, feel me near?
Why are you so still,
so very quiet,
unlike you, like this?
something is amiss, Dear.
I cannot see, touch, nor hear,
just sense cold, an absence,
you’re no longer here.
I don’t know what to do,
but I cannot stay,
like this, without you.
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I don’t often try poetry, but when I saw this image, Woman with Long Hair by Man Ray (1929), and read my friend Björn Rudberg’s (real poet) poem RAPUNZEL’S MIRANDA… I knew I wanted to try something. The old photograph immediately reminded me of Graceland Cemetery in Chicago, a deep sadness came over me and I felt a sense of loss.
So, here’s my entry for Kerry O’Conner’s Real Toads ~ Camera Flash!
SAILING… a Drabble for FriFic
A telephone rings…
“Hi, Cheryl. Want to go sailing?”
“Are you crazy! You know I get seasick, Ethel. Who did you snooker into taking you out on the lake?”
“Not sailing sailing, silly, garage sailing.”
“What the hell is ‘garage sailing’?
“It’s when you go to garage sales looking for cool stuff.”
“Oh, right. Remember your antique-vase-phase? The last thing I want to do is follow you around while you search through other people’s worthless crap looking for something you can’t do without.”
“Well, I thought it would be fun. Hey, remember the vase I got you?”
“Okay, I did need that one.”
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Thanks to Sarah Ann Hall for lending this photo of her antique-vase-phase to Friday Fictioneers for this week’s prompt.
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.
“In Voluptas Mors”
FOLIAGE… a Drabble for FriFic
A telephone rings in Wicker Park…
“I’m pissed, Cheryl.”
“Well helloooo to you too. What’s up now?”
“You know the pretty foliage I like to look at? They’re cutting it down!”
“You got me. Where?”
“Outside my kitchen window!!!”
“That ratty ivy next door? I wouldn’t call that ‘foliage’, Ethel. Why?”
“They’re going to paint the bricks!”
“But, Cheryl, paint? I complained to the painters, but they wouldn’t listen.”
“For crying out loud, Ethel, that’s not who you talk too.”
“I was told ‘time marches on, lady’, so rude! It’ll be ugly.”
“How ’bout getting a window shade?”
“I should have called Betty! Good-bye!!!”
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Loved this week’s photo prompt, by Roger Bulltot, of the Renwick Ruins on Roosevelt Island. Originally a smallpox hospital built in 1856 and claimed to be the most haunted spot in NYC. You can read such a story right here… Tour Guide at Roosevelt Island.
(I trimmed Roger’s photo a bit since brownstones in Chicago don’t have lawns that large)
Oh for God’s sake, Ethel!… a drabble for Fri Fic
A telephone rings…
“No??? I haven’t said anything yet, Cheryl!”
“I know exactly what you’re going to say today, Ethel. And, it’s a hairbrained idea.”
“Okay, Miss Marple, what?”
“You’ve been obsessed with American Ninja Warrior and your favorite is Meagan Martin, a rock climber. Right so far?”
“I thought so! REI just opened a new climbing wall and you want to do it.”
“I think it would be fun.”
” I think it would be crazy, and I don’t need to take you to the emergency room again. Ask Betty to go, she likes the Red Wings, now that’s crazy.”
Meagan Martin… not Ethel
Meagan… not Ethel REI in Seattle
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Photo Prompt by CEAyr for Friday Fictioneers. Check out the other writers to see what they did with this image.
Photo of Meagan Martin is by littlebangtheory at the Dark Horse Climbing Competition at Metrorock climbing gym in Everett, MA.
BOXES! … a drabble for Fri Flic
The light is blinking on an answering machine in a Chicago third floor walk up.
Click… ‘It’s me Ethel, call me!’
“What’s up now, Ethel?”
“Get over here right away, Cheryl!”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down, what’s the rush?”
“Boxes, Cheryl, boxes full of food.”
“Oh for crying out loud! I’ll be right over.”
It’s times like this that Cheryl wished they didn’t live so close. Ethel had recently gotten an iPhone and was going crazy ordering things on Amazon. ‘Boxes of food?’
“Thanks for coming, what am I going to do, they’ll spoil.”
“Better put your Blue Apron on, Ethel.”
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This week Rochelle Wiseoff-Fields chose a lovely photo belonging to Dale Rogerson for the Friday Fictioneers to find a story in. Dale can be found writing at A Dalectable Life.
Here they are…
Get Off The Pot! A drabble for Friday Fictioneers
‘What is taking her so damn long?’, thought Ethyl. She had to pee and was dying for a cigarette, having just taken up smoking recently. “Cheryl, hurry up!!!”
“Hold your horses, Ethel.”
Ethel was tired of holding her horses. And there it was again, those tones, very faint, so familiar. Just then it dawned on Ethel. “Dammit, Cheryl, I know what you’re doing. You are sitting there playing Trivia Crack on your phone with Frances while I have to pee!!!”
“I’m doing no such thing!”
“I can hear the frigging wheel go round”
“I’m… dammit!!! Now look what you’ve done!”
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The prompt photo by J Hardy Carroll immediately told me what Ethyl and Cheryl were up to today. Join Rochelle Wisoff-Fields and the gang to read more 100 word stories at:
We lost one of the biggest influences in all of Rock and Roll today… Chuck Berry. His touch was everywhere… ask any rock and roller. He wrote about sex and cars and Sweet Little Sixteen. I grew up when there were soda shops, jukeboxes, and drive-restaurants with car hops on roller skates. We danced to his songs at the high school dances and blasted them from the radio when we went cruising in our cars.
No disrespect to Elvis… but Chuck… he was The King.
He wrote, without a doubt, one of the greatest Rock and Roll songs ever…
Wish he could have lived to see his new album released.
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The next photo is the PROMPT. Remember, all photos are property of the photographer, donated for use in Friday Fictioneers only. They shouldn’t be used for any other purpose without express permission. It is proper etiquette to give the contributor credit.
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Contrary to the familiar Thoreau quote, this week it’s what I’m looking at that matters in my story.
Genre: Hysterical Fiction
World Count: 100
ETHEL AND CHERYL AND TED AND ALICE
Ethel, Cheryl and Ted strolled along the banks of Egg Lake singing “Alice’s Restaurant” in three-part harmony.
“Walk right in, it’s around the back…,” sang Ethel.
Cheryl chimed in with, “…just a half a mile from the railroad track.”
Ted stopped at the lake’s edge and raised his trusty Canon. “Whoa, what a great shot!”
Ethel frowned. “With all this beautiful scenery why would you take a picture of an old chair in the water?”
“To post on my blog.” Ted snapped another angle. “I never know when that purple-obsessed midget might snag one of my photos for Friday Fictioneers.”
Here’s Rochelle with a familiar book… all her titles are available at Amazon…