Crux by Susan Mehr
PHOTO PROMPT © Douglas M. MacIlroy
The hum of machines is no more, and pollution yields while the crisp scent of nature fills the air. As far as your eyes can see dew glitters, and the sun brings life to another day while a breeze amplifies an eerie whistle of a familiar rhyme.
“Ring a Ring o’ Roses.
A pocketful of posies.
We all fall down.”
I fly from one windowsill to another and gaze inside their human prisons. I never thought I’d see the day when I’m the observer and humans pace the same as caged animals. Is this the fate of humanity?
Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple
for more stories click on the prompt
PHOTO PROMPT © Jeff Arnold
Welcome to Friday Fictioneers. For more stories click on the prompt.
Apologue by Susan Mehr
Welcome to my fable, a once upon a time where a simple plot can produce an intricate web of secrets. Each clack of the typewriter’s keys releases hidden truths within the story. It’s a dream that blows in a world amid the reality that eclipses an unknown realm and racing against time our hero journeys for answers. Is it an illusion? And is our hero afraid? Or in the moment of truth, contemplates the sweet taste of victory? Hence, the end whispers a happily ever after to my tale, except the legend of our hero’s actions will live forever.
PHOTO PROMPT © Ceayr
WISH by Susan Mehr
At this moment, words disappear. Alone I stand on parched soils searching for the truth. My deployment is at an end. Still, the ability to recall echoes of your laughter helps endless days begin. Even though your miles away, my journey home’s not far. Memories of our sweet embrace unearth a fight to keep taking steps forward. I hunger for the day when the mere sight of you once again steals my breath. When will people realise war isn’t a winning game? A world away, I flick a silver coin into the air, and dare make a solemn wish.
For Friday Fictioneers
For more stories click on the frog. Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple.
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
Panic and Hope
Time is racing. How do we fight when the body is beyond repair? Even when the odds pile against us? Do we still have the strength? Why live to hope, when all that’s left is empty space. Can’t find the faith, lost the fight inside, as innocent lives slip through our hands. Hope’s so far away.
We need to care, not let weakness be the stronger. We are standing together yet still prisoners inside our skin. Dreams do not die, maybe tomorrow the shelves won’t be empty and hope the end isn’t miles away.
Photo Prompt Dale Rogerson
For Friday Fictioneers
The audience stands.
Deafening claps of thunder.
Casts bow and curtsey.
They take to the stage.
Their story had to be told.
Finding passion in their eyes.
They come together.
Danger, valour and courage.
For this could be love.
Cast members gather.
Reaching high for the stars.
See their names flicker.
Shine in a thousand spotlights.
Can it be enough?
Strive to be the best.
Give it one’s best shot for fame.
Greatest love of all.
The final encore.
End scene will live forever.
Hold on to the dream.
for more stories click on the dancing frog.
For Friday Fictioneers
100 words fiction in the form of a eight stanza Haiku
Photo Prompt by Dawn Miller
SCARED by S Mehr
My vision’s a blur and I’m shaking in a cold sweat. ‘Deep breaths,’ I repeat. I can see the red barn. Not far now. I keep blinking while my shaking hand flicks strands of hair from over my eyes. A musky smell fills the air. Eyes widen. My hand drips all the way down to the elbow, I’m soaked with blood. My glance lowers. Toes squish the warm bloodied mud I’m standing in. What’s going on? I’m shaking and my mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
A hand falls on my shoulder. I turn.
“Why did you stop? Keep running!”
Photo prompt by Dale Rogerson
The best part of the night, the witching hour. My dear Madam is casting her spell on striking blue eyes. Me? I enjoy a roll on my back in a pile of snow. Snowflakes ruffle and soak through my fur coat. Wow! It is so invigorating. I’m glad I’m alive.
In the park Madam’s concocting her usual magic. In contrast, I don’t need magic. I have eloquence and charm. I prefer green eyes.
“Good evening.” Tom’s purr rumbles from his chest.
I return a smile, pace around him the same as a caged lion while leaving dainty paw prints in the snow.
Ice Cream by Susan Mehr
Handed a waffle cone topped with ice cream the size of Mount Everest, are they insane? But what the hell I’m donning the biggest smile and life’s perfect. The rainbow-coloured ice cream is so delicious. Who cares if I’m sitting in a designer pram and dressed in a Baby Armani pink frock! I’m still smiling.
Sensuous impulses travel my mouth, and tongue, while hands and fingers become sticky. The icy rainbow coloured luscious cream messes my mouth while covering my forearms down to my elbows and drips into a rainbow puddle on my lap. Life doesn’t get better than this.
Photo prompt Na’ama Yehuda
Photo J Hardy Carroll
NURSERY by Susan Mehr
Nursery, it’s what it is, my safe place. No matter how long I’ll spend peering through those windows, I can never imagine what it’s like to stand outside alone.
I dream of a free-spirited life, to wander the furthest horizons, unrestrained from the shackles of this dome. To be blanketed by the natural warmth of the sun’s rays, instead of a diminished gleam diffused through glass triangles.
‘Courage,’ they said. ‘Courage is what one needs to survive outside the nursery.’
“No,” I say, “Courage is what one needs to take the first step. After that, what inspires, is your destiny.”