PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook What is Love? Peter26X4b, Kent34X2r, and Jeremy99X7y were linked at Mutualhub Zircon 8675309 for July’s monthly lunch-byte-share. “She’s already asking me to lower the timbre of my voice, and it’s only been her second subscription payment” said Peter2… “They are like that, so quick to expect modifications,” said Kent3… “They…
Category: Friday Fictioneers
#FF — A Tomorrow
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields A Tomorrow She clutches the filthy handkerchief as she hacks. Dull pain radiates from her dying lungs and into her weary chest walls. Mira bends over, rag catching red mud. Some remains at the corner of her mouth. “Call them,” she wheezes with what little breath she has left. “Mum,…
#FF — Just One More!
PHOTO PROMPT ©Yvette Prior Just One More! A slamming door wakes me. I open my eyes to a mosaic of a thousand images. Was I having a stroke? I go to turn on my side to sit up and feel my leg tethered. I try to say “what the!?” but all I do is buzz….
#FF — Not a Dream (in memoriam for Trent)
PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson Not a Dream He woke up, disoriented. The last thing he remembered was unclipping Fiyaro’s leash from his collar and thinking about getting a cup of coffee after the run. Where was he? It wasn’t the Cape Cod cabin, but it was a familiar cabin; his grandparents’ guest house cabin…
#FF — Nouveau
PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart Nouveau Nouveau is the last city standing on Earth. Intact brick buildings line well-lit, clean – some might say sterile — streets. Very few humans walk its streets. Those linked to the masters. Every first of the month it rains for precisely one hour. Humans wait for that hour and…
#FF — Cupid’s Bow
PHOTO PROMPT © Lisa Fox Cupid’s Bow Memoir. Year 1961 “Meet you at Cupid’s Bow at three!,” Bobby’s fading voice said as we each rode our bikes away from each other. Bobby didn’t need to say it because it had been our routine every day without fail this summer. My family was headed back to…
#FF — Goodwill
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot Goodwill I’m sweeping the front stoop when they visit my shop; the lady with honey-shine hair and emerald eyes, holding hands with her small, pale son. They spend an afternoon looking for tiles to refurbish her patio. Her garrulousness almost overwhelms me, yet I appreciate her knowledge of clay, glazes,…
Tao Talk 