Hotels : Friday Fictioneers

Hotels

I awoke in a sweat. The cheap hotel’s AC was bust.

What was the time?

3.21pm.

I got up and went towards the window.

The Marriott opposite was caught in the hot afternoon sun.

It was almost time.

9 minutes more.

I’d intercepted K’s coded message. It was all part of the job description.

“Room 633. 15h30. Alone.”

I focused the binoculars, in case.

K was already there. Statuesque. Stark naked!

A large sheet of paper hid her breasts.

I refocused hurriedly.

“Get your ass here immediately, the champagne’s getting warm and I’m getting less passionate by the minute.

This weeks Friday Fictioneers photo prompt is the featured image of this post. Thanks again to Rochelle Wisoff-Field who despite being eggceptionally busy this week, has provided us with an excellent opportunity to write a short piece of fiction – in no more than 100 words. The prompt is © Marie Gail Stratford.

La vache : FFfAW

La Vache

“What’s cow in French Dad?” Freddy asked.

“Vache,” I replied.

“Is that masculine or feminine?”

“Feminine; une vache.”

Freddy continued colouring his drawing wielding the stylus of his tablet with flourish, the soft tapping noises reminding me of my favourite breakfast cereal.

I glanced over and admired the vibrant shapes and flowers. My son, the artist!

The memory hit me hard as it resurfaced, uninvited and without warning.

1998, In my old studio in Zurich, the very first Cow Parade.

Amanda helped me of course, while she was strong enough. Later when the pills refused to dampen the pain she would lie on the couch, and watch me work. My heart was with her but she insisted that I finish. She passed away softly in her sleep before I had finished.

I made an incision and dropped a gold locket with our photo and a lock of her hair into the hollow animal and sealed it with my tears under a large red heart.

Amanda has travelled the world. Be sure to say hello for me when she passes your way.

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers is curated by the lovely  Priceless Joy and todays photo prompt is by the amazingly talented S. Writings.

The Bus Incident : Sunday Photo Fiction

The Bus Incident

I chopped off the top of my soft boiled egg with a Samurai-like gesture and ended with a flourish.

“Yatta!”

Sally looked up from her toast and rolled her eyes playfully as I scooped up some yolk.

“You’re going to drop …”

“No, I,m no…”

A large blob of bright yellow yolk slided onto my new white shirt.

“Shit!” I jumped up and grabbed a cloth.

“Clumsy as usual.”

“Just unlucky that’s all.”

“A disaster continually waiting to happen.” Sally grinned.

The cloth spread the yolk over an ever expanding area.

I looked up at our photo of a London Double Decker Bus.

“Being maladroit brought us together though.” I pointed to the photo.

Sally smiled as we remembered the Bus Incident. I was holding onto the bar on the open platform when it swerved round a bend and I lost my grip and was unceremoniously ejected.

Sally was on the corner. I narrowly missed her in my fall but she stayed to attend to my injuries and we’ve been together ever since.

I reached over for a kiss but she pointed at my messy pullover.

I sighed with mock frustration and went upstairs to change.

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge to write a story in about 200 words inspired by a provided photo. This weeks photo is © A Mixed Bag 2015.

 

Half-Light : Daily Post Photo Challenge

 

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Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

(William Butler Yeats)

This weeks Daily Post Photo Challenge is : Half-Light. The challenge is to Share a photo inspired by a poem, verse, song lyric or story. I have picked a photo taken at sea in the South Pacific and a beautiful poem by William Butler Yeats.

Blinding Light : FFftPP

Blinding Light

“Faster!” I said.

“I’m already doing 75,” replied Simon.

“More speed! Now!”

The action cam was wobbling a bit, but would hold.

Then I saw the car coming in the opposite direction, headlights dazzling; a blinding light!

Perfect!

I seized the steering wheel, and pulled hard, putting the car on a collision course.

“What the f… , let go!” Simon screamed.

– Two hundred metres.

Simon tried to regain control but my grip was too firm.

– A hundred metres.

“Crazy shithead!” Simon said through clenched teeth.

I waited until the very last second, then pulled back into the inside lane.

Simon screamed, as the oncoming vehicle, horn blaring, sped by missing us by centimetres.

He braked suddenly and pulled into the emergency lane.

Slumped over the steering wheel he attempted to catch his breath.

I grabbed the camera.

Neither of us spoke a word on the way to the gig.

Later on stage, I picked up the mike, Simon started strumming, and the rest of the band joined in.

“We’d like to play a little tribute to Manfred Mann. Blinded by the light.”

On the panoramic screen behind us, I hoped the audience would enjoy my little film.

 

For this weeks Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner I’ve once again taken the prompt in a musical direction. Thanks to Roger for his excellent Friday challenge.

Confrontation : Friday Fictioneers

Confrontation

“Don’t do anything stupid, dumbass” said Silas, leering maniacally.

Nick felt the anger rising from that secret place between mind and body and felt it erupting, burning and caustic.

A little voice from somewhere softer and lighter tried unsuccessfully to stem the flow but it was too little and much too late. Definitely inappropriate.

His whole body tensed, muscles alert and ready.

With astonishing rapidity, his right fist connected with Silas’s jaw and jolts of electricity ran up his arm.

Silas fell, unconscious before hitting the ground, his head narrowly missing the white porcelain toilet dumped in the yard.

How lucky we are that even if Rochelle is super busy that she still managed to provide us with a challenge this week. Thanks Rochelle!

This weeks prompt is © Ted Strutz. You can read all the other entries by following this link to Friday Fictioneers.