Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

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/2015/10/07/2-october-2015/

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

Come, there’s a thrill around every turn.

Here’s my contribution:

Anywhere Carnival

Nickle got himself two corndogs and a Pepsi, then settled in for the show.

Yesterday had been a bust. All that work, slinking in during the wee hours, shimmying up the chains and fiddling with a narrow rasp file just enough so the links would be weakened but not noticeably. The links hadn’t been detected on the morning check but they had unfortunately held firm.

That meant Nickle had to go in again the following night, last night. Do a little more slinking and shimmying, and rasping.

But today was surely the day.

Nickle was certain.

“Higher. Higher,” they shouted.

jKb

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PHOTO PROMPT - © 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:

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/09/30/2-october-2015-2/

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

Come, see what I see.

Here’s my contribution:

Fly On the Wall

Simon was a sneaky bastard, and quite savvy. He was also fed up with the bullshit at school. So, he wrote this little program which allow him to remotely access the camera and microphone on any computer. The innovative part was he had encoded the Trojan into the digital images on his social media. Simon could now look back at whomever was stalking him.

Oh, what he found!

Hell, it was only fair, right? These douchebags were trolling him, and now he was inside, watching, listening, and recording all their dirty little secrets.

He could already count the extortion proceeds.

jKb

FFF Prompt Bridge trg3

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/2015/09/23/25-september-2015/

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

Come, have a taste.

Here’s my contribution:

Beggars Can’t Be Choosers

Those casual words, said as if rehearsed, spat so naturally. I looked up and watched your jowls quiver. As you belittled me you didn’t realize I was taking note of your face, the cut of your suit, the watch on your wrist, the click of your heels, your scent.

Later, your address.

You could have just dropped your coins into my cup, but no, you seasoned with insult. So now, as I pull up this string secured to your meaty hand and scoop up some beautiful blue-claws for dinner I chuckle as I think, ‘Does it taste just like chicken?’

jKb

FFF Prompt demolition-4

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/2015/08/19/21-august-2015/

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

Come, celebrate with the birthday boy.

Here’s my contribution:

The Artist’s Method

The crimson plume had nearly scorched off Oscar’s face. He rubbed thumb and forefinger across his brow and giggled.

I’ve been a naughty boy!

He peeked above the parapet as sirens warbled. Oscar was so excited he thought he might pee himself, so he twisted it closed. And giggled again. He thought about the mother screaming when she found her bound daughter. Oscar had smashed her head with of all things a frying pan, blew out the pilot and turned on the burners, then quickly lit a birthday candle on the far end of the apartment before making his wish.

jKb

FFF Prompt moon-and-sky1

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/2015/08/05/7-august-2015/

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

Come, let your body rest before you begin your next fantastic journey.

This, from May 2012.

Here’s my contribution:

I Pray You Sing (a letter from Rachel)

Dearest Mother,

I’m sorry. I haven’t always been easiest or prettiest and certainly I’ve let you down. Please understand, I’ve been angry. Children can be. So I ran.

Laying here, grasses crushed beneath, I wonder, can I still feel? Soothing sun. Coaxing breeze. Branches sway. Naked. As I am. Unblinking, imagining our world whole, yet, color fades, Mother, shudder, my heart stops.

Now, I traverse this awakening of permanent sleep, my understanding greater, my love for you ever deeper.

Left me here. Alone.

Cry for me not, Mother. I pray you sing, for I am coming Home.

Ever yours,

Rachel

jKb

FFF Prompt in-the-light

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/2015/07/29/31-july-2015/

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

Come, sure the first sip might be nasty, but give it a try.

I’ve been out of the loop, my friends. Life has been pitching some wicked sliders. Be that as it may…

Here’s my contribution:

He Called Himself Evan Williams

Humans are pack animals after all; they need companionship to survive, or risk insanity. For Tripp Bennet the habit started as a way to obtain company while travelling for work. He found it quite easy. Any night in every town there’s always a meeting. Tripp would arrive after things had started, noticeably fidget while fingering his white coin, then leave before the close. Inevitably, someone would follow. Tripp didn’t care who, he was equal opportunity. ‘What’s your name’ and ‘how long you been sober’ would lead to more, even if the mark resisted.

Always more.

Tripp suffered a mighty thirst.

jKb

pleisiosaur_

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/2015/05/06/8-may-2015/

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

Here’s my contribution:

The Tranquil Garden

“I wish you were dead.”

The words hung in the air like the cigarette smoke Tad would belch out, stretching wider with each passing second. Mary choked on her tears.

I’m strong, damnit. Why do I get weak around him?

“Then do something about it. Come on, be a man for once in your life.” Tad clenched his fist.

“Go ahead, do it! Hit me!”

He relaxed his hand. “You’re not worth it.”

“Coward.” She shoved him as hard as she could. “Fucking coward! Hit me!” She shoved him again, spilling his beer.

In the end she got her wish.

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