Archive for the ‘Friday Fictioneers’ Category

The Mouse (flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers)

PHOTO PROMPT - © Marie Gail Stratford

Photo credit: Marie Gail Stratford. Thanks, Marie for the photo prompt for this week’s Friday Fictioneers

 

I have not submitted a flash fiction story to Rochelle Wisoff Field’s Friday Fictioneers for the last three years, but thought I would jump on this one for old times sake and join in the fun. Here is mine of 100 words, exactly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

I needed a break. Pouring myself another cup of coffee I sat down to relax. But, my brain still worked on the next chapter of my book. The gnawing, grinding sound like tiny teeth, chewing was driving me insane.

But, it came from my desk. The mouse gyrated, moved around in crazy patterns, made clicking sounds, jerking itself free from my grasp. I stared, unbelieving as it came alive. Using keyboard shortcuts I clicked My Docs. Gone! Nothing! I clicked on my last saved file of my years’ long book project. It was not there. Gone!

The mouse was still.

____________

Joyce E. Johnson (2015)

Fiction – ‘Doors’

Is it just me, now suspicious of everyone I see? Standing outside my hotel room door, cautious, waiting, listening as if expecting to find one going through my things, my files, laptop.

No! I cannot be this way and do my work here. I have a job, an assignment that requires my total focus and concentration.

I inserted the key, turned it. It opened. My room looked the same, and everything as I’d left it. Maybe, it was I who was changing. Now afraid of my own shadow, a door, a lock, a noise. A face I’d seen before.

_________________________

Joyce E. Johnson (2013)

Note: The above 100 word story with title (Doors) is my submission for Friday Fictioneers this week. This portion is a part of my ongoing novel, The Informant’s Agenda, and this is the last part of Chapter six, not included in the previous chapter section, but it seemed a good fit for this week’s photo prompt story provided by Rochelle, Wisoff Fields, moderator for Friday Fictioneers.  For the benefit of those who are following my story, The Informant’s Agenda I have not included the FF photo prompt here, so please excuse its omission. 🙂

‘Yearning to breathe free’. Friday Fictioneers photo prompt

It has been over nine months since I’ve participated in Friday Fictioneers (due to other priority writing projects and time involved), but often read and comment on other writers’ stories. This week, however I decided to add one into the mix. Friday Fictioneer stories can be found at Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s blog, at http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/ Because of the current piece of work I am editing and posting chapters of now (a novel, The Informant’s Agenda) this photo prompt seemed appropriate to my writing genre and story theme, so here is my contribution this week for this prompt.  The interesting thing is that although my current novel is fiction, this little story has a lot of truth in it as it is based on factual truths found in my novel. 1) My grandfather Jacob’s family were immigrants from Odessa, Russia, and were German Jews. And after over thirty years of research I am now writing a story similar to their own. And 2) I did visit Russia and cities in Ukraine in 1989 where I visited several cities in my novel, and took the photos below this story of the Babi Yar Jewish Memorial in Kiev, 1989 which is a sad, unforgettable site. Information on the Babi Yar can be found in Wikipedia and elsewhere.  Any comments and feedback are always welcome, and thanks for reading.

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The Babi Yar Memorial of the 33, 771 Jews massacred on September 29 and 30, 1941 by the German SS in Kiev, Ukraine

The Babi Yar Memorial of the            33, 771 Jews massacred on September 29 and 30, 1941 by the German SS in Kiev, Ukraine

  I took the photos above of Babi Yar in 1989 while touring Ukraine, Russia : Joyce E. Johnson (1989)

Below is my story to go with the photos above and submitted for the week’s Friday Fictioneers story.

__________________

I thought of Grandfather Jacob and his family coming ashore in 1889, yearning to ‘breathe free’, to live in a land where ‘pogrom’ and persecution were foreign words, not ones to be feared.

The words of one from the Babi Yar memorial to the thousands of Jews massacred in Kiev came to me.

“My mind reeled with the images. My heart wept for their pain. Where did it all begin? Why no end to their suffering? Where would they find acceptance? A place where peace would reign?”

It seemed fitting to end my journey here upon my return from Ukraine.

____________________

Joyce E. Johnson

Casting Apparitions

Every week a photo is posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields provided by her, or someone else for the benefit of inspiring writers from all over the globe to submit their own 100 word story based on the photo prompt.  Below is my story. It is pure fiction in the literal sense, entertaining, but never autobiographical of any experience I, or anyone I know, have experienced. My characters, plots and locations are those of my own creation, and from the world of ‘make believe.’ They are not indicative of my own beliefs, or perspectives, necessarily, but of their own, real or imagined. You may find all my prior 100 word stories under the category of Friday Fctioneers, Flash Fiction, or Short Fiction if you are new to my blog and wish to go back and read any of my older stories. I welcome you to come along with me to my imaginary world of ‘make believe.’

Joyce E. Johnson

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Casting Apparitions (Friday Fictioneers Flash fiction, Jan., 31)

“Your piece is shaping up, nicely. Add a little more detail here though. Who are they?” My art instructor asked.

“They’re my ancestors.”

“Oh, yes. Your other passion. Family history.” 

“Right. One is Robert Walpole from the British parliament, the other, Ludwig Van Beethoven.”

“Oh! Really?”

“Seriously.”

Their images shared the space with other old family documents.

They came to her that night again, while she lay sleeping.

Two white apparitions; Beethoven, performing symphony #9 on the piano.

And Walpole; pounding his gavel on the old, rustic, withered white bench. “Guilty as charged!”

Music to her ears.

She slept.

___________________________________

Joyce E. Johnson

Portrait of Beethoven in 1815, two years after...

Portrait of Beethoven in 1815, two years after the premiere of his 7th Symphony.

English: Robert Walpole prime minister of Brit...

Robert Walpole

British Parliament


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“I Do, Take Thee…” – (Flash Fiction, 100 word count stories, Friday Fictioneers), Jan., 23

Every week a photo is posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields provided by her, or someone else for the benefit of inspiring writers from all over the globe to submit their own 100 word story based on the photo prompt.  Below is my story. It is pure fiction in the literal sense. My characters, plots and locations are those of my own creation. You may find all my prior 100 word stories under the category of Friday Fictioneers, Flash Fiction, or Short Fiction if you are new to my blog and wish to go back and read any of my older stories. I welcome you to come along with me to my imaginary world of ‘make believe.’ And as always, feedback and comments are welcome.

Joyce E. Johnson

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Palms swayed. Wind blew off the Keys. The surf was up, the tide coming in. The sun was high and bright, a beautiful day.

It has been over forty years since we declared our love to one another on Valentine’s Day, our wedding day, here. Today, we will renew our vows. But, will he remember any of it? Alzheimer’s has claimed his mind, his memory, our time left, and our love. I cannot think, or hope beyond this day.

I pushed his wheelchair onto the old, creaking boardwalk, our children walking beside us.

Will he remember any of it?

_______________________

Joyce E. Johnson

“Missing” – Friday Fictioneers 100 word story – Historical Fiction, Jan. 16, 2013

“Sasha. I told you before. You cannot color on mama’s pictures. They are very old, very special.”

She picked up the crayons, handing them to him. “Here, you go color on the paper I gave you.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Irina set out fresh candles for the menorah, gleaming from a recent polish.

The phone rang. She was too busy to talk, but answered.

Maybe it is Jacob. Why is he so late getting home?

“Irina? It is I, Isaac. Jacob did not report for work. Some of the workers were roughed up, outside the factory. Jacob was…”

“No!”

Not my Jacob!

*****************


“Cheers” (Genre – Drama, 100 word flash fiction for Friday Fictioneers, Jan. 2, 2013)

The below story is fiction. It is my submission for this week’s Friday Fictioneers 100 word story hosted and led by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, based on a photo prompt provided. Any comments or feedback are always welcomed.

For those reading my stories, my characters and what they experience are all fictional.  They live in fictional locations, unless otherwise mentioned.  My stories do not refer to anything I (or anyone I know) have experienced, or a situation I have gone through.  But, they could be real people, or about real experiences, if I make them convincing enough. Again, that is a part of the creativity I strive for, as a writer, fictional characters experiencing things that might happen to them, or those in their lives. My characters and their stories are not based on any particular perspective, or viewpoint I have on the subject, only the perspective needed to tell the story. I believe that a truly creative and effective writer of fiction can create all different kinds of characters and situations in their imagination. But, in creating my own stories I like to leave an impression or image that will resonate with the reader. One that is as real as these experiences are, or can be in my characters’ lives, will leave the impression that there can be hope in a situation, or experience, not always one of despair. In real life it can turn a situation around for them to the positive. I hope you will come along with me to my imaginative world of ‘make believe’ and maybe you will feel like you have known that character in my stories you have read about. One you can cry with, grieve with, sympathize with, laugh with, or just be entertained by them.   And for those just coming along for the first time to a Friday Fictioneers story of mine, you can catch up on all my past Friday Fictioneers stories from 2012, and any other of my longer fiction stories posted by going back to my category listing on ‘Fiction’.

Thank you, and a Happy New Year to all the Friday Fictioneers, bloggers, readers and writers following my blog in 2012.

*****************

BOOM! Colors exploding in the sky.

Pink, purple, hues of all kinds.

Party hats rushing. Whistles in my face.

SHOTS! BANGS!

From where did they come?

People shouting.

“Where do I go?”

“Where can I hide?”

I can’t stop the ringing in my ears.

Like bullets pinging off my brain.

My hand clutches a ticket, but a ticket to where?

Images of things spinning around.

Don’t remember anything.

Dark cloaked shadows stalking my head.

All turning black.

There’s a beautiful face looking down upon me,

Smiling, with the kindest eyes ever seen,

His arms reach out, receiving me.

*******************

One final note: The story above, is in tribute to victims (and their surviving families) killed through tragic deaths this last year, and prior committed by one who was bent on destroying the lives of others, through mass killings.

Joyce E. Johnson


Benefactor

The story below is fiction. It is my submission for this week’s Friday Fictioneers 100 word story based on a photo prompt, provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Comments and feedback are welcome.

Thank you all for following my blog and stories through the year, and for the positive welcomed comments. I wish you all a healthy, happy, prosperous new year in 2013.

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A “secret benefactor”, her lawyer said had fronted the last twenty thousand needed for her to buy the coffee-house cafe, add the bookstore, and turn it into the profitable venture she had only dreamt about before.

“The contract is ready. All we need is your signature and everything will be legal and tidy to close the deal.”

Could she trust him? This new “business partner” was too secretive, a figure in the shadows. He chose to remain anonymous, requiring her lawyer to keep confidential his identity until the meeting between the three.

Here they come.

“NO! Not my ex-husband!”

*********************

“Guilty” – Weekly 100 word stories of flash fiction, based on a photo prompt, Dec. 20, 2012

The below story is my submission for this week’s Friday Fictioneers flash fiction based on a photo prompt. Comments and feedback are welcomed. I want to wish all the writers and bloggers in the Friday Fictioneers group, and those who visit my site a Merry Christmas and hope you will take a few moments to view the other Christmas poems I have posted recently, below the story. Thank you all for reading, following and commenting on my stories and posts through the year. It is always appreciated.

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“Yep. Got them made, cooling on a rack. I tried that new recipe, ‘Cranberry Chews… something. You know, with the white chocolate chips? But, with everything going on this week before Christmas it’s been frantic trying to get everything done. Hey, I got to go and feed my cat. I’ll see you at the party. Bobcat comes meowing when it’s past his feeding time.”

I filled his dish. “Bobcat!”

CRASH!

Oh, no! He didn’t! I heard the plate fall to the floor, and ran to the kitchen.

“Meow.”

His apology, maybe?

“BOBCAT!”

Cookie crumbs everywhere, but no cookies.

Just Bobcat.

******************

Joyce E.  Johnson


Posted December 20, 2012 by Joyce in Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Short Fiction, Writing

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CHANGED

The below story is fiction. It is my submission for this week’s Friday Fictioneers 100 word story. The reference to ‘Scrooge’ is based on the old classic Christmas movie and book by Charles Dickens. It is a favorite of mine. I love the theme and story that is woven throughout the story, from the person he once was to the one he has now become. It is what Christmas is all about, accepting the One gift given to us all, the Savior to the world.

Comments and feedback are always welcomed.

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“I wish we could decorate, for Christmas. It’s so bare, and dull.”

“Our ‘Scrooge’ boss won’t allow it.”

‘Scrooge’ entered, leading a cadre of men carrying a big spruce tree, boxes filled with ornaments, garland, sweet treats and presents directing men where to put the tree, strands of lights, and decorations. Then he began passing out candy canes, pastry treats and presents to all.

His employees stared in disbelief at their boss as if he had taken leave of his self.

He smiled, nodding. “Yes. I’m a changed man. Forgive me, all. Bless you for being such faithful, patient employees.”

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The Night The Lights Came On At The Plaza

The below story is fiction. Formatted to be read like a poetic prose. It is my submission for this week’s Friday Fictioneers writing group based on a photo prompt, hosted and led by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Comments and feedback are welcomed.

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I’d not been back in years, but the memories still fresh.

All that happened out on the square.

The night the lights came on at the Plaza.

The years passed slowly. I had no news

where to look, or if he’d married.

Then I get a call and he wants to meet.

At the sidewalk café where we sipped our wine, and

I lost myself in his aqua blue eyes.

He left suddenly, with no explanation.

A man too mysterious, with too little to give back.

There he is, waiting and watching,

like a spy coming out of the cold.

Joyce E. Johnson

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Memorial


A note on the picture above. I took this photo while walking a nature trail with my husband and dog. Our city (Loveland, Co.) is well-known for the many professional artists and sculptors who have created beautiful works of art for galleries, museums and artists’ shows. Many are on display in our city and elsewhere around the world. This particular piece with the hand points the direction under an overpass and bridge where walkers and bikers on the trail can view other sculpted caricature faces displayed. This art project was entitled, “FACES.” I don’t know if the sculpted faces are those of actual people known for specific accomplishments here, or just those depicting fictitious persons, but many are very whimsical and expressive in detail.

Each week I write my short ‘flash fiction’ story of 100 words to go with the photo prompt provided by Rochelle Fields on her website and Friday Fictioneers. Below is my story to go with the photo prompt I provided for this week’s Friday Fictioneers, “Faces.” Feedback and comments are welcome.

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“Memorial”

“It’s Dicky.”

“Yep, that’s him, alright.”

“With the same silly smirk on his face. Great work by the artist.”

“He will be missed. Everybody loved him.”

“Remember back in college? He was a practical joker, always a good laugh.”

“Yes, even with the professors.”

“Then he becomes a clown, volunteering at the Children’s Cancer Research Center Hospital. Always giving back, never asking in return.”

“Entertaining sick children for hours. Coming in every week.”

He told the staff, “I just want to bring joy and laughter to the kids, however long they might have.”

“And then he himself dies of cancer.”

**********************

Story and photo by: Joyce E. Johnson

Hope

The below story is fiction. It is my submission for this week’s 100 word story for the Friday Fictioneers writing group. Comments and feedback are welcomed. Although this particular story is fiction, there are thousands on the east coast that can relate to the story with stories of their own, not fiction, but real and they can testify to the sadness, the pain and loss of those lost in super storm, Sandy and other storms that have left thousands homeless, misplaced or killed in its wake. My thoughts and prayers are with them all. The mention of the phrase to the “Convoy of Hope” is a tribute to a ministry that my church, and I and my husband supported financially. It is through people like them with the faith, compassion and love that they travel to areas where disasters have hit to bring help and supplies to those affected by storms and chaotic events that have disrupted or taken lives.

***********************************

Hope

“It could be days before power is restored.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll get through this. There are hundreds more in the same boat.”

He smiled at the irony of his analogy.

“Nothing works. No heat. Even those old batteries in the jar are ruined from moisture. Most of our furnishings and things are still sitting under two feet of water. What are we going to do? I can’t take this!”

He wrapped his arms around her, warming her.

Moments later, a large truck pulled up, full of supplies. Men jumped out.

“We’re from the ‘Convoy of Hope’, here to help.”

***********************

Posted November 15, 2012 by Joyce in Faith, Friday Fictioneers, Short Fiction, Writing

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Restored

The below story is fiction. It is my submission for this week’s Friday Fictioneers 100 word story based on a photo prompt. I was traveling and on a trip during the two – three weeks I missed submitting a story. Comments and feedback are welcome.

Thank you, Rochelle for the photo, the encouragement, the wonderful friendship we’ve had through the years, and the camaraderie we also share as writers of fiction.

And also I want to thank Madison Woods (a.k.a. Roxanne Phillips) for her past photo prompts, helpful tips with Word Press, and the encouragement she offered too, for all her work with Friday Fictioneers. It has been fun, and getting to know other writers this way, a valuable asset to me as a writer.

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RESTORED

She sat anxious, waiting, and afraid.

“Carol, are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Carefully, the doctor unwrapped the bandages from around her face and head. About all that was left exposed were her eyes, although still red and swollen.

The glass partition in his waiting room reminded her of the thick coat of ice on her car’s windshield that day of the storm, and the horrible accident, breaking facial bones, scarring her with shattered glass.

Her husband sat with her, also anxious, but hopeful, holding her hand, squeezing encouragement.

When the doctor was done, he handed her a mirror.

“Honey, you’re beautiful!”

****************


Captive

Below is my Friday Fictioneers 100 word story based on this week’s photo prompt, provided by Madison Wood’s Friday Fictioneers website. Feedback and comments are welcome.

On a personal note: For the benefit of those reading my blog and stories that are not writers of fiction, but maybe readers only, please note that all of the Friday Fictioneers stories I write and create are only fiction, or what we all loved as a kid growing up, the ‘make believe’ stories we read, listened to as told, or from books we treasured. They do not relate to, tell about, share the same views or opinions, or are similar to any experiences I have had. The characters, plots and stories I create are of my own making and ideas, not someone else’s. That is the beauty and the fun of creating characters and plots with different circumstances, problems, or issues in their life. And of course all these little fiction stories are all based on a photo used to prompt us writers to create a 100 word piece to go with it. That is another part of the fun, and freedom to be expressive in our creation. Sometimes I like to use an idea from issues that are found in the news stories these days, or are similar to situations that may seem real, not just imagined. With that in mind, I like to think about a real life person in this situation or role, and how he or she might react to it, think, or do. As a Christian and a person of strong faith, my characters are not always people like that, but are in fact ones without such a faith. What they do, think and decide for themselves in their situations could, or may not change the outcome of their situation. It is entirely up to them. It might turn around their situation, make it worse or leave them with one thought: What now? What should I do? Who do I turn to? Who will help? The story below is a tad bit similar in a way to one of my favorite genres, ‘Espionage’. Hope you enjoy it.

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She waited, anxious between cold, concrete walls no wider than a produce cart.

She was desperate.

She’d sought them out, pleading, “Can you help?”

“If you work for us, and the revolution. Yes. We’ll get her out.” he said.

“But, I’m an American. Not a spy.”

“Doesn’t matter. We fight, for the cause of freedom. To eradicate the opposing government, and free those still held. In Iran.”

They held her daughter, a journalist, prisoner.

She’d wired the money, sent the transcripts, even forged documents.

Her ‘contact’ was an hour late. What if he doesn’t show?

Someone’s coming.

“Sarah?”

“Yes, mother!”

*********************


Empty

The below story is fiction. It is my weekly 100 word story for the Friday Fictioneers from this week’s photo prompt with the Madison Woods web site. Feedback and comments are welcome.

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Empty. The kitchen felt cold, dark. Devoid of life. Like her.

Soon, she would be out of here. Time to move on. She picked up empty boxes and began packing.

They’d fought, both saying harsh things. She lost their child to miscarriage, the baby she’d longed to have.

She swiped at her tears. God, I tried to save our marriage, to keep him happy. But, he still left, with her! What else could I have done?

Floor boards squeaked. She swung around.

“Who’s there?” she asked in a quivering, small voice, shaking.

Gasp! “You!”

“I’m sorry. Can we try again?”

*******************

Posted October 5, 2012 by Joyce in Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Short Fiction, Writing

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Friday Fictioneers – Sept., 28, “Pagoda”

“Pagoda”

It was our ‘pagoda,’ just an old stone shrine in San Francisco’s China Town. We stood here declaring our love, thirty years ago.

Today, I stand alone with a tattered copy of our vows to each other, reading mine, shaking, and weeping with every spoken word or phrase.

Only the silence answers me back.

The birds sing their woeful song to my grief-stricken soul.

Our wedding day. We laughed, running to catch the trolley car when he fell, got caught underneath, and was crushed to death.

I never remarried.

“Clang! Clang!”

The death knell of that hated trolley.

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Posted September 27, 2012 by Joyce in Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Short Fiction, Writing

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‘Friday Fictioneers’ – Flash Fiction 100 word stories

Every week a photo is posted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields provided by her, or someone else for the benefit of inspiring writers from all over the globe to submit their own 100 word story based on the photo prompt.  Below are two of my stories from the Friday Fictioneers category. They all are pure fiction in the literal sense, entertaining, but never autobiographical of any experience I, or anyone I know, have experienced. My characters, plots and locations are those of my own creation, and from the world of ‘make believe.’ They are not indicative of my own beliefs, or perspectives, necessarily, but of their own, real or imagined. You may find all my prior 100 word stories under the category of Friday Fctioneers, Flash Fiction, or Short Fiction if you are new to my blog and wish to go back and read any of my older stories. I welcome you to come along with me to my imaginary world of ‘make believe.’

Joyce E. Johnson

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“Specimen”

“Anson! I told you to clean your room, and get that dirty old jar out of here.”

“OK.”

Anson walked out to the barn, and entered his science specimens’ domain.

“This will be better, Widow Black. It is time for you to join the others out here, now.”

He unscrewed the jar, and let the spider crawl out, lifting the jar gently up to a large web where she could now join her ‘kind.’ Others waited with anticipation for the ‘newcomer.’

“You will feel more at home here.”

Anson would make a great arachnid scientist one day.

_________________

Joyce. Johnson (2012)

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“Wings”

“What’s that? An illusion, or an angel with too many wings?” my friend asked.

“Don’t ask me. We’re in Paris. Remember? Everything here is interpreted differently. Ask the tour guide.”

“Are you kidding? And look like a ‘redneck’ or a moron from ‘south paw’ U.S.A.?”

“The brochure says here that the sculptor is a descendent of ‘French Americans,’ and was, ‘presented to Paris in appreciation for their gift to the United States for the Statue of Liberty.'”

A month later.

“Remember that angel statue we saw, in Paris?”

“Yea. Why?”

“It was demolished by angry demonstrators who hate Americans.”

_______________

Joyce E. Johnson (2012)

The Old Millhouse

The story below is fiction. It is my story entry for this week’s Friday Fictioneers 100 word story, provided by Madison Woods, based on a photo prompt.

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The Old Millhouse

 

Henry, old, crippled and, “eccentric, strange” the village people said trudged over to the old millhouse, cane in his right hand and wilting wildflowers in his left.

He unlocked the creaking door to its dark, dank interior. It was his annual rite to bring her flowers, lay them in her lap, arrange and prop her up so she would not slouch, or fall. The quiet and solitude greeted him, as did the spiders working their webs, and the mice, their nest.

Her skeletal remains sat waiting just like the year before, upright, awaiting his visit.

“Oh. Dear Henry. How lovely.”

*****************************

Posted September 6, 2012 by Joyce in Friday Fictioneers, Short Fiction, Writing

FOREBODING

The below story is fiction. It is my submission for this week’s Friday Fictioneers, based on a story prompt provided by Madison Woods.

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FOREBODING

She watched from her 15th floor veranda overlooking Toronto’s skyline.

Beautiful formation. Now, If only they would disappear. Come on, sun!

Relaxed on a chaise lounge with her wine she fell asleep.

Strong winds awakened her, hours later. A dark ominous cloud moved in.

Gathering strength, moving across the city, foreboding.

Suddenly, the view did not matter anymore.

Sirens, bullhorns blared warnings, now too late for her.

A tornado approached. She stood, mesmerized as it roared, racing towards her.

The monster’s black swirling tail stretched forth its tentacles. Swooping her up, sucking her in, it carried her away.

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Posted August 29, 2012 by Joyce in Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Short Fiction, Writing

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