Photo Prompt ©️ Ted Strutz
The Last Expedition of Mavis Richter
Day 1: Equipment arrived safely. Spent the day assembling telescope and yurt. Should have requested extra blankets. Nights are below zero now.
Day 2: New telescope is powerful – felt like I was floating among the stars last night. No unusual activity noted. Should have requested back-up generator. Old one is on the fritz.
Day 3: Strange lights in the sky after midnight. Generator died. Should have requested kindling. Tried to build a fire. Not much here will burn.
Day 4: Lights were back. Seemed to be a dozen. Should have requested rescue flare gun.
Day 5 : Help ……..
Written for Rochelle Wisoff’s Friday Fictioneers
Photo prompt ©️ Sandra Crook
The Consequences of Friendship
“Come to the country with me,” Connie said. “We’ll have fun.”
“Sure, I can use some fun.”
I slather sun screen on my face, arms, and legs before going out to the expansive lawn. The view is stunning, reflecting pools, exotic flowers whichever direction I gaze. I sigh, move on.
There is not much time for wool-gathering. The schedule here is very rigid, busy from breakfast until twilight.
As I climb up on the tractor/ mower I wave to my friend, weeding the flower beds.
I cup my hands around my mouth and shout, “I’m not having fun, you know!”
The prompt and my story for Friday Fictioneers
Photo prompt ©️ J. Hardy Carroll
“Margaret, did you go to the gym today?”
Margaret rolls her eyes, crosses her fingers, and lies. “Yep!” She quickly ends the phone call before Ted asks any more questions.
Her trainer never gives her a break. He has developed an exercise plan guaranteed to help her shed the twenty-five extra pounds she put on during the holidays.
It’s only a tiny lie. Margaret did drop in at the boxing gym in the old section of town, not the gym where she usually works out. She did go inside. She didn’t work out. The gym is now a donut shop.
Here is my story based on the photo prompt for Rochelle’sFriday Fictioneers
The Things We Lose
Clare sits in her car, heater at full blast. She knows she should keep driving but the lights of the house, her home, have her mesmerized.
It’s been five years since she left to ‘find herself’. Five years of odd jobs, cheap motels, traveling. Her parents tried to keep in touch but Clare knew if she talked them she would run home. She sent them a postcard from each new town, just so they knew she remembered.
Clare looks longingly at her past. The deep snow makes it look like nothing has changed, the SOLD sign buried beneath a drift.
photo prompt by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Only the Best
Charley had promised her the best when she agreed to marry him.
He worked hard in the hellish heat of a steel mill, always taking any overtime offered.
He started as a floor sweeper and worked his way up to plant supervisor. Every extra dollar earned was spent on satisfying the whims of his wife – clothes, jewelry, travel.
When she died there was no money saved for her funeral. He could no longer give her the best.
Charley weeps as he walks through the woods with his saw. He must find the best tree from which to build her coffin.
posted onFriday Fictioneers
Here is my story, based on the photo below, for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
photo by Sandra Crook
Dinner To Go
English is not my mother’s native language. She takes everything literally. When my dad tells her to ‘shake a leg’, she always asks which one.
My sister rushes into the kitchen. “That new restaurant has a drive-through window!”
A big deal for our little town.
When Mama announces she is going out to get dinner, none of us even looked up. Mama goes to the market every day.
About ten minutes later the phone rings. Papa answers and the the look on his face means trouble.
“Mama has driven the car through the window of the new restaurant”
It’s Friday already! Here’s my story for Friday Fictioneers
photo credit – Fred Strutz
Frank’s wife tells him to pack up all his junk and get out.
“Don’t come back!” Her words hit him hard, as if she was throwing rocks.
“I love you.” Frank whispers his words in her direction. She has already disappeared inside.
He slumps into his van and drives to the storage locker he rents. His wife doesn’t know about the things he stashes there.
“This is art. Someday I’ll be famous. That’ll show her.”
After Frank’s funeral, his wife discovers the storage locker, filled with fantastical metal sculptures. His art’s put up for auction; Frank finally becomes famous.