UnNerved: A Friday Fictioneer Flash Fiction Piece by AshleyDannie

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UnNerved
PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Unnerved

The half egg shaped arches unnerved me. I just stared at the entrance, feeling claustrophobic.

“I can do this,” I whispered, clutching my violin.

A fellow violinist walked up beside me, “I froze in that hallway my first time too.”

“What happened?”

“I missed the concert and demoted down to second violins.”

“Oh boy.”

The fellow violinist glanced down at my shaking hands, “Trust me. Just close your eyes, take a breath, and let those strings sing. Each time you get up there by yourself it gets easier.”

“Really?”

The man chuckled, “No.”

I stared as he walked away.

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This is the parameters of the story. 🙂

Friday Fictioneers
copyrighted to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

 

Train Tracks of a Gypsy Soul {Friday Fictioneer Tale}

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Train Tracks
PHOTO PROMPT © C.E. Ayr

 Train Tracks of a Gypsy Soul

She walked along the tracks that intertwined in this part of the city. The red-head wore an old, tattered backpack that held just one more outfit, a toothbrush, and well-used journals. In her right hand, the 16-year-old held a guitar case.

As she meandered, she searched for a train car with an open door. An old clunker started passing very slowly. Before it picked up speed she saw an open car. She threw her guitar up into the empty space and quickly followed.

Sitting on the edge, she pulled out the guitar, serenading her new gypsy soul.

Word Count: 97

 

 

 

Friday Fictioneers

Every Friday the Fictioneers come from all over the world to share 100 words at Rochelle’s blog. All genres welcome (Please exercise discretion).

Not the Plan based on a True Story {Friday Fictioneer Piece}

Plan
copyrights go to Amy Reese

Not the Plan

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open to a sterile looking hallway, but with garage doors. The trolley’s wheels squeaked on the floor as she pulled it to door 218. Her eyes, slightly swollen from tears, focused on the lock and key. The clunk of the lock as she dropped it, vibrated her very being.

She huffed as she lifted the aluminum entrance to reveal boxes of her life neatly stacked. This wasn’t the plan. These were supposed to be moved to a Florida apartment, not her Indiana childhood basement.

Tears fell as she started to load the trolley.

Word Count: 99        (Based on a true story)

Copyrights: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Copyrights: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Bang Bang Goes the Fireworks {A Friday Fictioneers Tale}

Bang Bang

A Friday Fictioneers Tale: Bang Bang

The lights flooded the sky overhead as the red glow burned into the night sky. I watched as I snaked through the alleyways. The shadows I normally can blend into were gone. 4th of July. Worst night for my kind of work.

I saw the target–middle-aged and balding. A family man, sitting with his kids and wife. The little ones running around with sparklers, laughing.

They have no idea. I found the deepest shadows and aimed. I waited. Remembering the images of bodies killed by his command. A slew of fireworks shot up as I pulled the trigger.

Word Count: 99

A Bridge in a Field {Friday Fictioneer 100 word Story}

A Bridge in a Field
© Adam Ickes

A Short Story: A Bridge in a Field

She walked cautiously on the bridge. She ran her hand gently over the wood railing, peering over. The water that once ran free through the corn fields dried up, showing only dirt and weeds.

The gazebo at the end looked as broken as her. In their prime, they saw love–created love. She twisted the diamond ring, removing it. She held it up one last time. She chucked it into the barren creek. She watched the ring fall, glistening as it dropped, but like the love she once knew, it was gone, covered by the muck.

 

Word count: 96

Painful Waves: A Friday Fictioneer Piece

Painful Waves
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

 

Friday Fictioneers

Painful Waves

The waves hit the shoreline of rocks with such force. Something about watching this action beat the pain out of me–or into me. Mason coming home tore open the wounds I have tried so hard to forget, but I never fully healed. Another crash and it felt as if the waves struck me in the gut. Wouldn’t be the first time–Mason–the crash–Grandpa. I took another swig of the bottle sitting next to me. I could feel the pain start to numb. I stood up, trying to balance but it would be so easy to jump…
Word Count: 99

Check Out Rochelle Wisoff-Fields who is in charge of Friday Fictioneers

Night Lights — A Friday Fictioneer Piece

Night Lights
PHOTO PROMPT © CEAYR

 

Night Lights

I floated, watching the lights from the round building ripple in the oil-like sea. The foreign music pulsed, shaking the ocean floor.  I swam closer.

I reached the shoreline wall and I peeked over it. There, outside the building, stood a boy and a girl, but they weren’t still. Their bodies moved together in a way I had never seen before. Then there lips touched.

“Aw,” I sighed, but the girl heard. She ran to the wall, but I dived back into the water, swimming away. I just hope she didn’t see my tail because Daddy would be mad.

Word Count: 99

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields! Check out her website!

The Squawking–A Friday Fictioneer Story

The Squawking

Squawking
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

The squawking birds on the phone line reminded of Hitchcock, as I walked up to the old, Victorian apartments. I knocked quickly, huddling closely to the door. The building was abandoned and the owner was supposed to meet me, so I could look it over.

I wanted to restore the building. No answer. I grabbed the knob, opening the door. Silence wafted over me. I took two steps in, “Hello?”

Two more steps. Out of nowhere, a bird fiercely swooped through a broken window at me. I screamed, swatting it away. I turned and ran. No building was worth it.

 

Word Count: 100

Country Wire: A Friday Fictioneer Story

Country Wire

Friday Fictioneers

Country Wire
PHOTO PROMPT © Madison Woods

The barbed wire fence was a mess. Some areas were pulled tight, but others lacked and dripped to the ground. The tall, stringy grass swayed in the breeze within the confines of the fence. The weathered barn was broken and rotting with a rusting Farmall living in the middle of it.

“We have a lot of work to do,” Hailey stated the obvious, “I can’t believe your grandpa let it go like this. This will take forever!”

Tristan laughed, “Well Grandma did say Grandpa said if he was going to grow old so was the farm.”

 

Word Count: 96

Check out Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for details if you want to join the community

“Old Secrets” (Friday Fictioneers)

Old Secrets
Copyrights to Kent Bonham

 

 

 

 

Old Secrets

She opened it carefully, hearing the clanking of metal components, adhered as pages in the book. Paper didn’t exist among these pages just shapes molded into foreign figures. As she touched the page a static shock coursed her body.

She fell as visions of old secrets came alive in her mind–magic. Magic forged by metal, by air, by water, by fire, and by earth and faces with each. Her fingers tingled as the visions disappeared. She moved her fingers and right before her eyes the book floated toward her.

The foreign figures, now readable, whispered “You are not alone…”

Word Count: 100