APOLOGUE

 

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PHOTO PROMPT © Jeff Arnold

 

Welcome to Friday Fictioneers. For more stories click on the prompt.

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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.

 

 

WISH

 

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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.

 

Panic and Hope

 

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PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

 

Friday Fictioneers

 

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.

 

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Encore

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Photo Prompt Dale Rogerson

For Friday Fictioneers

Encore

The audience stands.
Deafening claps of thunder.
Casts bow and curtsey.

They take to the stage.
Their story had to be told.
Legendary epic.

Hero, heroine.
Finding passion in their eyes.
Theatregoers cry.

They come together.
Danger, valour and courage.
For this could be love.

Cast members gather.
Reaching high for the stars.
Becoming worthy.

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

SCARED

 

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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!”

 

Friday fictioneers

21 February 2020

Witching Hour

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Photo prompt by Dale Rogerson

 

Witching Hour

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.

 

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Friday Fictioneers

 

 

ICE CREAM

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.

ice-cream-naama-yehuda

Photo prompt Na’ama Yehuda

 

Friday Fictioneers

 

https://fresh.inlinkz.com/p/3c9880bd0c664414b6a9a94663ef966d

NURSERY

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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.”

 

 

Friday’s Fictioneers

17 January 2020

 

 

Hullabaloo

 

Hullabaloo

by Susan Mehr

Name That Vase – December

Name That Vase – December Edition

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You’re red, but you’re blue.
I can’t think, have so much to do.
Wrapping presents, decorating the tree,
Finish the cooking, like a busy bee.
The countdown starts, Santa’s on the way.
Arranging milk and cookies on his special tray.
Somethings amiss, need to impress old Nick
Let me think, a centerpiece, but not the candlestick.
Yes. I know the vase will do,
With festive colors red and blue,
But this pottery vase is more than a mere raku.
You’re an angel in disguise, your name is ‘Hullabaloo’.

 

New Generation

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New Generation by Susan Mehr

 

Hawks eyes they observe

of achievements yet to come

undecided still

 

each morning and night

meticulous every day

they give of thy self

 

A simple smile

or an approval welcomes

do I make them proud?