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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:

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/04/08/10-april-2015/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, see what lurks beyond the secret door.

Here’s my contribution:

Beyond The Secret Door

“When Marshal’s guys rolled the car back so the electrician could access the relay station underneath, some stones from the back wall collapsed in.”

Sheriff Shoemacher swung his finger like he was stealing a taste of cake batter. “Not that way.” The deputy climbed down into the 5-foot square hole which housed the circuitry. He directed his flashlight beam into a dark recess which traveled beneath the old Red Caboose Museum and platform on which the Sheriff was standing. “That way.”

Shoemacher circled to the far side of the hole. In the shadowy depths of the recess was a door.

jKb

FFF Prompt david-stewart

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:

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/03/25/27-march-2015/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. This fellow rolled in to town when the Carnival of Screams appeared. Come, witness The Smith and all that he can be.

Here’s my contribution:

The Smith Comes

Allen rests his bones upon the Post Office stoop, metal tool box upon his thighs, scraggy grays tied back into something that resembles a wet rat. He wriggles his nose and samples the crowd. He awaits Mrs. Right, or Mr.–Allen’s an open-minded opportunist. With feminine, surgically nimble, and overly ring-adorned phalanges he twirls errant whiskers. His beady eyes and highly attuned nose identifies her from within the docile masses. Mrs. Right is distracted on her phone, she’s arguing, her left fist is clenched yet it sparkles, dazzles. Allen slides open a metal draw retrieving his most precious instrument.

jKb

FFF Prompt rachel-bjerke

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:

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/03/18/20-march-2015/

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

I wonder if they ever looked in the fountain.

Come, tell me if you can hear it too.

Here’s my contribution:

Listen

“It happened in a wooded area very near here,” Trish continued her tale, treading deeper into the woodland, a string of small children ambling in her wake.

“What happened, Ms. Trish?”

“The story goes that seven year-old Tessa was drawn into the woods by a life-sized raggedy doll. Her brother Jeremy saw it too, peeking around trees, smiling at her with stitched mouth and button eyes. It was calling to her and waving to follow.”

“Then what?”

“She went off down a trail like this one. Jeremy said he could hear talking just ahead.”

“What was that?”

“Shhhh.”

“Listen.”

Come!

jKb

FFF PROMPT frost-on-a-stump-sandra-crook

 

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:

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/03/11/13-march-2015/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. I tried for about 3 minutes to restrain myself to 100 words this week. Some stories resist control. Anyway, hope you enjoy. And do come in from the cold.

Here’s my contribution:

Eight Years Old

I first noticed my shine when I was just a wee little girl. I had this stuffed bunny, Isabella, Izzy for short, and I’d drag her ‘round with me wherever I’d go. Just the two of us, an inseparable pair. Bobby, my older brother, he’s long gone now, but Bobby didn’t much care for my liking of Izzy. So, on a hot August afternoon, when Ma was at the grocery and Pa was off working or fornicating with Ms. Mabel, or maybe just getting drunk, I don’t much recall that part, but I do remember Bobby had made off with Izzy and ran away faster than I could out into the deep part of the yard. I watched as, in one motion, Bobby lopped off Izzy’s head with ma’s sewing shears and tossed her, body and head, off into the woods that lined the property. I can still see through the eyes of a five-year-old as Izzy’s cotton guts stretched and became tangled on some branches. I shrieked. Bobby, he laughed and laughed. That’s when I felt the cold chill come over me. Well, it was more like it emanated ‘from’ me. Things started to frost over and wilt as it spread like spilt milk. I cried and shuddered and choked on tears and snot and the cold spread faster and faster. Poor Bobby. Poor, poor Bobby.

jKb

FFF Prompt on-on-off

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:

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/01/28/23-january-2015/

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

Here’s my contribution:

Blind-Date

“It’s painted black.”

“Yes, my play room.” Justine pressed all hundred-nine pounds against him and bit into his flesh. “You came here with a purpose, so let’s play.”

Benson exhaled both pain and pleasure; he grasped deeply into her dark curls then yanked. “That’s right, bitch.” He kissed her hard. She responded with tongue flicks before biting his lip. She shoved him back into a bolted down wooden chair.

He smiled, murderously.

Using Velcro straps she secured his wrists and ankles, then secured a blindfold. The final piece plugged directly into a rigged outlet and snugged over his head.

jKb

FFF Prompt cropped-bugs

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/2014/12/17/19-december-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, have a listen, you just might learn something.

Here’s my contribution:

The Bully

He considered the implications, the causes, the effects. Brandon was very good at seeing the broader picture.

He’d been called things like darling and faggot many times. Always he would turn away, rising above and attempting to avoid physical harm. Just recently upon returning from the theater with Jonathan — God could Jonathan make a violin weep — two drunken fellows pummeled them wantonly. Jonathan’s lovely fingers were severely broken and would never function the same. The larger of the men had called out something before he’d stomped Brandon’s nose.

Brandon loosened a ligature then queried, “Empower me. Say those words again.”

jKb

FFF Prompt hollywood-crowd

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/2014/11/12/14-november-2014/

For those who are new, Rochelle shares a photo prompt to which several #FridayFictioneers compose a 100-word flash of fiction. Come, take a push, you’ll love it something fierce. Promise.

Here’s my contribution:

The Disciple

You only as good as the last fix. Can’t let ‘em tell you no different cause that shit’s a lie. Nah, on these streets it ain’t kill or be killed; when you down here, you already good as dead.

It’s right here that I met the Righteous-Man. I was strung out and beaten, lying in festering filth and asking the Almighty to gift me death. Righteous gave me a stick and I gained a purpose. Righteous fixed me somethin’ fierce, I tell ya. Gave me back sight and hunger, pulsing sensation, lustful wanting, and for him I’d do fucking anything.

jKb

FFF Prompt Bird Watching At Lake

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/2014/10/22/24-october-2014/

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

Here’s my contribution:

Precarious Situation

The first light of morning starts him blinking, inducing vertigo. There’s acid in his throat. He realizes he’s on a hard surface. The ringing in his ears sharpens to splashing, perhaps, he’s not certain. His eyes haven’t completely focused. He attempts to right himself as he concentrates on his location but discovers his wrist is cuffed to a bench. His suit is twisted, his collar torn, his tie missing. He reaches for his pocket searching for his mobile and finds dirty panties, small and bloody, a Polaroid of a girl wearing the same panties, a pistol. He recognizes not one.

jKb

FFF Prompt THE WORK BENCH still-life-with-doug

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/2014/10/15/17-october-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 gonna be a blast.

Here’s my contribution:

Deep Seeded

Everything has its place, thought Mitch Winkle, precisely arranging the items on his work bench, careful to rotate and align and to not knock into anything. There was no room for clumsiness.

Wouldn’t want a mess, now. Shouldn’t spill. He heard his mother’s voice, chastising.

He was particularly careful of the Semtex filled glass bottle with the sensitive mercury switch.

Nothing is random. Just another random thought which seeped in? “No,” he answered himself. Then, “Yes,” the internal struggle.

Mitch retrieved his map, spread it upon the table, and blindly poked a finger down. “Huh, Bristleburg Farmer’s Market it is.”

jKb

FFF Prompt bottles-marie-gail-stratford

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/2014/09/24/26-september-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 make you a star.

Here’s my contribution:

Digital Age

He’d met her at a tasting and they’d discussed Tuscan wine. When Brandon suggested they slip out unnoticed and head back to his place where he kept a wine-cellar she’d immediately gathered her coat.

Now in the cellar, Brandon swirled then tipped the glass pretending to admire the way the wine clung to the sides. He glanced at the concealed camera, the light was red. Cheryl sniffed hers then made some comment about flowers or some bullshit, he didn’t much care.

She tilted back and allowed the liquid to enter her mouth and Brandon knew it wouldn’t be much longer.

jKb