100 word story · Friday Fictioneers

The Things We Lose


©️Dale Rogerson

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.


Children’s Story

I Love You More Than Grubs and Flies

This is my entry for the Valentiny contest over at Susanna Hill’s blog. 

There is always hope for friendship.

I Love You More Than Grubs and Flies
(192 words)


Toad and Frog are not friends. They do not play together and they never exchange Valentines.
Toad lives in the garden. Frog lives in the pond.

“You’re all slimy,” Toad yells to Frog.

“Well you’re covered with bumps,” Frog shouts back.

“You have fly breath,” croaks Toad.

“At least I don’t eat grubs,” Frog croaks, even louder.

All night long, back and forth, Frog and Toad croak insults at each other.
Finally, Grandpa Bullfrog could stand no more. With a mighty “RIBBIT” he silences the two youngsters.

“Enough! Maybe you two should think about all the ways you are alike.”

“Well, I was born right here in this pond,” croaks Frog.

“Hey, I was too,” Toad croaks back.

“I like to eat mosquitos,” ribbits Toad.

“Yum, mosquitos are my favorite,” Frog replies.

All night long, back and forth, Frog and Toad croak about the things they both like.
Grandpa Bull Frogs closes his eyes and smiles.

This year, Frog and Toad each make a special Valentine for the other.

To my friend Frog: I love you even more than eating grubs. ❤️

To my friend Toad: I love you even more than catching flies. ❤️

Toad and Frog are friends.

100 word story · Friday Fictioneers

Only the Best


                    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

100 word story · Friday Fictioneers

Dinner To Go

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”

Children’s Story

Shadowy Try-outs

Shadowy Try-outs


Phil W. Goundhog’s shadow flew off to Florida for the winter. It was tired of shivering through the cold, snowy winters in Pennsylvania. Phil had a nice furry coat to wear on February 2nd, but there are no coats to fit a shadow.
Last week Phil got a picture of his shadow on a towel, next to a swimming pool. Yesterday his shadow sent a selfie, stretched out under a palm tree.
Phil has to have a shadow for Groundhog Day. He can’t make his prediction for Spring without a shadow. He sends out a text to all his friends, “need a shadow for a gig on Feb. 2 – tryouts at my place tomorrow”.
Before he went to bed, Phil set up a big spotlight to shine on the wall of his burrow – perfect for casting shadows.
The next morning, when Phil opens his front door, he sees a long line of neighborhood pals waiting for a chance to be his Groundhog Day shadow.
First in line is Skunk. His tail is too fluffy.
Next is Mouse. She is just a bit too small.
Porcupine’s shadow is too jaggedy.
Bear’s is much too big.
Otter’s shadow keeps wiggling around.
Deer’s legs are too long and rabbit’s ears are too floppy.
At the end of the day, Phil still has no shadow.
He puts on his pajamas and turns out the lights.
“Maybe I’ll find a new shadow tomorrow”
Just as he is climbing under the covers, Phil hears a knock at his door.
He shuffles over and turns on the porch light before peaking out the window.
Standing on the doorstep is his shadow!
“I got your text.”
Phil opens the door and gives his shadow a big warm hug. This shadow friend is the perfect fit.



100 word story · Friday Fictioneers

Someday Famous

It’s Friday already! Here’s my story for Friday Fictioneers


photo credit – Fred Strutz


Someday Famous

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.


100 word story · Friday Fictioneers


Here’s my first effort for Friday Fictioneers over at Rochell’s  blog.
Each Friday she posts a photo prompt and challenges us to write a 100 word story.


photo credit Bjorn Rudberg



He was a collector. It started small. Pencils – thousands of pencils in cigar boxes, stashed in every closet.
One day he came home with beer cans and a new collection was born. Eventually, the walls in the family room were lined with colorful cans from our trips around the world.
I think he loved his hat collection best. Ball caps, cowboy hats, knitted hats; if it was meant to cover a head, he had to have it.
He died last year, leaving me his collections.
I sit alone in the family room, wearing a knit hat, surrounded by memories.