PHOTO PROMPT © Jennifer Pendergast
Bernhard received his first commission shortly after participating in a regional TV reality sculpture show.
His winning sculpture was lauded by the Jury amongst the usual tears and scripted interviews of his proud family.
After some photos in the newspapers and a brief mention on prime time TV, Bernhard settled back into to his daytime job at the supermarket.
Depicting a massive timepiece, the commissioned sculpture, which stands proudly in the park, has undergone changes.
The wind broke the hands, rain has accelerated the oxidation and clambering visitors have buckled its form.
Bernhard is satisfied.
He named his sculpture Impermanence.
It’s nice to participate once again in this wonderful weekly Flash Fiction Challenge that is Friday Fictioneers.
PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson
The cell was intended for two but there were never less than five.
Behind the heavy locked doors, they had television, the only distraction from the stench of frightened unwashed bodies.
The stronger ate and slept whilst the others made use of newfound skills to get by as best they could, forced to live with their nightmares, night after troubled night.
Outside, the corridors were painted bright canary yellow and the floor, although a little worn, was polished and without blemish.
Tasteful artwork adorned the walls.
Yes, the authorities were proud to show visitors their model prison.
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly Flash Fiction challenge proposed by the lovely and talented author Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. This week’s photo prompt was provided by © Dale Rogerson. Thanks Dale.
High and Low
When Tracey was 15 years old she had a brief affair with Fred.
Her parents forbade her to continue but later when the bump became visible, it was already too late to do anything.
They took her out of school for a term, pretexting illness, and she gave birth prematurely to a beautiful boy in a small private clinic, well away from home.
She was denied the right to hold him in her arms or give him a name.
Look closely and you’ll see the tracks of my tears.
My name is Stan and today I’m finally hugging my Mum.
Friday Fictioneers is a wonderful weekly flash fiction challenge. Why not click through to read the other entries or to join us.
© Sandra Crook
I remember Mum handing me my “Mummy’s Little Angel” apron and lifting me onto the little three-legged stool so I could help her make cookies. She would pass me the flour dredger so I could sprinkle Grandad’s white powder onto the pastry mat.
Her eyes would twinkle as she told me tales from when Grandad tended the windmill, high on the hill, near the village.
Mum is at peace and the Windmill is a working museum but my little Florence is due shortly and I can’t wait to get the apron and stool from the chest in the attic.
Friday Fictioneers is a wonderful weekly Flash Fiction challenge arranged and orchestrated by the wonderful Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
I’m lucky to have a working Windmill close to home, and I love taking friends and family to visit it and climb all 5 floors to the top!
The child in Adrian resurfaced as he gazed upon the wintery scene as if through a window. His muscles urged him to rush outside and dance in the snow but his wizened frame remained immobile, stuck in the dream.
He gazed mesmerised at the falling snow, powerless, as strands of memory slowly rearranged themselves in his sedated mind.
Although he struggled to leave them hidden, his mind continued extracting and reassembling the events of that fateful afternoon.
“It’s working… coming up on the monitors now.”
The technician continued injecting into Adrian’s bound body.
“Yes … We’ve got him!”
Here is my entry to this week’s Friday Fictioneers challenge. The prompt is © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, our wonderful host. Thanks Rochelle!
Friday Fictioneers is hosted by the wonderful Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. This week’s photo prompt is © Lucy Fridkin
Jennifer gazed out of the window towards the setting sun.
Tomorrow she was moving on, leaving this now familiar cityscape and returning home to where the sun played hide and seek behind the mountains before calling it a day.
It took a while but finally it was done.
She’d identified another doppelgänger, the fifth, on the Twin Stranger’s website and had neutralised her.
Only one more to find, and then she could relax at last.
She wasn’t going to allow anyone else to resemble her.
She had always felt unique; the only one of her kind. (96 words)
I wrote this little story after watching a TV program about Twin Strangers (unrelated lookalikes and not twins). According to some theories, we all have around six lookalikes somewhere on this planet of ours. There were some remarkable lookalikes in this program that you would have said were twins. This gave me the idea for my story. The Twin Strangers website exists.
PHOTO PROMPT © Claire Fuller
“What a pile of useless junk,” exclaimed Mark, twisting his face into an angry frown.
Mary, mesmerised by the objects arranged on the shelves, just stared, wordless.
Mark ranted, “Dad spent days here behind closed doors. Now he’s passed away and we’re expected to clean up all his mess.”
Mary just nodded and waited for the storm to pass.
Mark snorted, “Humph! I won’t have anything to do with it. Just throw it all away and we’ll sell the house.”
Mary waited until her brother had left, then called the Curator at the Museum.
“He finished it! It’s a masterpiece.”
Friday Fictioneers is a weekly Flash Fiction challenge to write a story with a beginning a middle and an end in not more than 100 words. Our host is the wonderful Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Many thanks to Claire Fuller for this week’s truly excellent photo prompt.