monsters-dmm

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/04/16/18-april-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, but you mustn’t shut your eyes.

Here’s my contribution:

Don’t Even Blink

The word nightmare is not entirely accurate, not for everybody. Sure, most people experienced episodes during their sleeping hours and just occasionally, when the waves of stress and hormone fluctuations comingled with exhaustion, when your ambient subconscious defenses were fatigued, so said the professional literature.

But for Britney the situation was different. Her episodes, quite frankly, were less dependent upon the parameters suggested by research and science. All Britney need do was shut her eyes and they came, a rising wave enveloping you and lifting you off your toes then sucking you under, a wave which couldn’t be out run.

jKb

 

As an aside, I envisioned this child trying to keep her eyes open, the lubrication of her cornea thickening to a cataract, then her lid scraping and drooping toward closure, and dark things begin to leap at her from the shadows, not just from the corners of the room or from the closet or from beneath her bed but from the shadows of her very eyelashes, things she can just momentarily see as her lids drift lower, then there is a rapidly rising shriek, a sound probably only audible to her own ears. She jerks her head up and snaps it back and her eyes pop open. The dark things abate. The terrible sounds of the coming recede to a white hum like that which resides inside a conch shell. She sticks her fingers into the raw flesh of her eyes, she rubs.

Then it presses in again.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/03/25/28-march-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, then come again.

Here’s my contribution:

The Lamb

The breeze was laced with damp earth and moldering leaves, the perfumes of early Spring flowers promised new beginnings, laughter chimed as the children played in the warmth of the sun, and Michael looked beyond the soft grass to the edge of the park and saw her standing beside an awakening Maple. She wore a thin dress, her shoulders bare and fresh. She smiled and raised a beckoning hand, then turned and entered into the woodland, giving provocative glances back, lifting her hem, revealing her want, her need. Michael left all behind. He followed.

Deeper she drew.

Deeper he came.

jKb

 

old-building-staircase

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/03/19/21-march-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, let’s share a little adventure.

Here’s my contribution:

The Interview

“It looks dilapidated.”

“Works just the same.” Mr. Maple’s third jerk persuaded the metal gate into compliance, although not without first gnashing a meaty finger and drawing blood. He said, “Stand back, missy, wouldn’t want no accident,” then shoved the digit between his lips and sucked.

She envisioned him devouring a roasted baby arm and felt queasy.

The air swirled, debris shuffled across the floor as there came a rising vibration. Maple’s polyester suit gained a certain weightlessness and the lights flickered. From out of the dark hole in the floor rose an elevator car containing a queer internal iridescence.

jKb

 So, when I go to get the link and the little frog I end up at a page that shows no links…

adamickes-boardwalk

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/03/12/14-march-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, it’s time to collect.

Here’s my contribution:

His Due

Brackish water swelled on the coming tide, choking the river basin, black as the moonless night, and full of dark terrors. Emory settled into his wooden chaise-longue at the dock termination, and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply the thick, humid night, tasted the salt and decay, and reveled in his remembrance of that long ago St. Augustine night. He recalled the clinging dress, the slow gyrations of her sinful hips, sweat beads like diamonds upon her neck and breasts, her full and hungry lips, and the jazz so sultry. He still owed that debt and how Ol’ Tick thirsted.

jKb

 These widgets have not been my friend. Just don’t seem to want to link up and work. Sorry.

FFF PROMPT hay-bales-sandra-c

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/02/26/28-february-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, taste the indulgence.

Here’s my contribution:

Coffee and Cream

How the village has changed, thought Ripley, as he peered between the drapes of his attic apartment. He rocked and reminisced and stroked the luxurious fur of Cheryl, his long-time companion. Ripley had done his life’s work here, he’d left his mark for certain. And if he hadn’t, surely Marcus, his protégé, would ensure the townsfolk would remember, would believe. It was nearing breakfast, Marcus was due to return and share the previous night’s haunts, the enchanting, the seduction turned to taunting, the welling fear, the terror of realization, stifled screams and penetrating thrusts, labored breaths, the sensuous final beat.

jKb

 Not sure why the code for my link hasn’t been working?

janet-webbs-sangria

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/02/12/14-february-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, raise your glass.

Here’s my contribution:

The Toast

“Do you remember the sunset at that lovely winery, something Oak? It looked back across that ridgeline. The sky was like cotton candy.” Philemon swirled his Bordeaux, explored the sunlight through the goblet, inhaled the bouquet, sipped. “The wine was crap, but those views…breathtaking.”

Philemon rocked back and forth upon his patent leather loafers and chuffed his Romeo Y Julieta.

A gentle breeze swirled and tickled the nape of his neck. Philemon glowed, ever the gentleman, his glass raised. He unzipped his fly and let go his bladder upon the one black brick in the patio.

“Happy Valentine’s you bitch.”

jKb

The Link code didn’t want to work. I will try to come back to fix. 

FFF Prompt Lamps

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction Friday postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/02/05/7-february-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, we need your eyes.

I resisted the urge to tell the story of Ms. Rebecca finding love at a yard sale while searching for an urn to house her late husband’s remains. Only because such a story would demand much more space.

Here’s my contribution:

What’s A Girl To Do?

 

During the last few weeks Miriam listened as Ms. Rebecca drifted in and out of lucidity. Miriam would clean or fold laundry or prepare meals as Ms. Rebecca regaled with suddenly vivid tales of great adventure, spelunking caves, crossing barren expanses within the belly of a dirigible, riding swells upon the high seas. At one point Ms. Rebecca grasped Miriam by the collar with incredibly strong hands, pulled her close upsetting the cat from her blanketed lap, and said, “The ship is sinking. Bring the ducats from inside the lamp. Then, save yourself!”

 

Miriam reached for the embroidered pillow.

jKb

FFF Prompt claire-fuller-2

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction Friday postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/01/29/31-january-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, feel the heat.

Here’s my contribution:

Faded Polaroid

There had been a class trip organized, an effort to promote the trades as challenging and rewarding lines of honest work, areas often overlooked by the education system. Several stops were made: an auto-body shop; a Habitat For Humanity construction project; a tour of an organic farm. Rodney hovered behind, sucking Camels, flicking butts with disinterest.

The final stop was a cabinet-maker.

The shop is gone now, just a scar on the little side street, tufts of weed-grass clutching to pieces of blackened brick and twists of metal. The only good thing remaining, besides the memories, is a faded Polaroid.

jKb

 

FFF Prompt SpringHouse

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction Friday postings at:

 

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/01/22/24-january-2014/

 

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, and you’ll need a shovel.

 

Here’s my contribution:

 

The Spring House

 

Trace toiled by hand and with the assistance of his mule, Gerald. While excavating the water source and preparing the ground for a stone foundation the mountainside wall dissolved revealing a deeper hollow.

 

Having retrieved his flashlight, Trace leaned inward exploring the darkness. Not ten feet away from his outstretched arm and previously concealed within the depths of the mountain was something huge, seemingly metallic based on how the light danced upon the surface, with a subtle curve, which his single light source could not fully expose.

 

Trace pushed through the opening and approached the strange thing.

 

What the hell?

jKb

Rising Water copyright-erin-leary

Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for all her work and organization. You can visit her site and read through the other Flash Fiction Friday postings at:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/01/15/17-january-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, the water is nice.

Here’s my contribution:

Hold Your Breath

The throbbing behind his eyes seemed to grow as the morning sun angled higher, partially concealed behind the haze of an early morning shower. The earth was soggy behind his matted hair and cold beneath his bound body. He struggled against the cord – something electrical, a wire of some sort he recollected through a haze of his own.

Pieces came together: a land deal and contaminated water. His vision focused on the muddy edge of the hole he was in. And then the water, it spilled over the edge.

It rose slowly.

It wet his body.

It filled his ears.

jKb