Seance

There are twelve of us sat around table which dominates the small wood-panelled room. It is covered in a thick red velvet cloth. Heavy curtains block the watery twilight. At the centre, a huge crystal bowl holds our belongings – a watch, a wedding band, a pendant …

Why is it always jewellery?

‘Hold hands.’

I clasp the strangers hands next to me. One a huge, sweating palm, the other a thin, liver-spotted claw, like dried out paper.

I concentrate hard on the military medal I have offered, wishing with all my bones that he will speak to me.

FF - 25.05.18 - Crystal bowl
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

***

I have really missed taking part in the Friday Fictioneers the past few weeks but life got in the way. It’s good to be back.

***

This piece was written for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple.

Each week a photo prompt is given and the challenge is write a flash fiction piece of no more than one hundred words.

Find other Friday Fictioneer stories here.

The Envy of the Village

Old Mrs Bergman’s roses were the envy of the village. The bushes bloomed in a congregation of scarlet and coral, sun-flare yellow and delicious tangerine. They spilled over the walls and lit up the pavement with their scattered petals, like delicate wishes skipping along the breeze, destination unknown.

Mrs Bergman plucked and preened, watered and fed. She whispered sweet nothings. She told the roses all that she would have told him if he were here. And they bloomed.

At night she would take the fading telegram from the drawer: Missing in action.

And she waited to meet him again.

FF - 21.02.18 - Roses
PHOTO PROMPT © Marie Gail Stratford

***

This piece was written for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple.

Each week a photo prompt is given and the challenge is write a flash fiction piece of no more than one hundred words.

Find other Friday Fictioneer stories here.

Murder in the Yard

The noise had been niggling at Nora for a while, sifting into her dreams at the edge of consciousness.

She squirmed in bed. The sound took shape, a whirr of an engine. A saw. A chainsaw. It was coming from the back yard.

She jumped up and ran outside.

Her tree lay in pieces all over the ground. Her dad stood over it, the murder weapon on his hip.

‘Dad? Why?’

‘It were dead, luv.’

She rummaged through the severed limbs until she found it. ‘N&J’ scratched into the bark. The top of the heart was missing. Tears fell.

FF - 31.01.18 - stumps
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

***

This piece was written for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple.

Each week a photo prompt is given and the challenge is write a flash fiction piece of no more than one hundred words.

Find other Friday Fictioneer stories here.

Cathedral of Junk – Friday Fictioneers

FF - 27.12.17 - junk sculpture

PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Cathedral of Junk

‘Why do we have to go here?’

‘It’s on my list.’

‘Yeh, but why is it on your list? Rubbish as art? It’s weird.’

‘Forgotten things can become special in the right hands.’

‘You don’t need a tower of junk to tell you you’re special. Is that what this trip is about?’

Layla sighed. The car was too warm. She hadn’t achieved half of what she wanted to, and now she was rotting away from the inside. Cells mutated. Tom was going to take it bad. She hoped he could find some beauty in the world when she was gone.

***

The Cathedral of Junk is in the backyard of Vince Hannemann in Austin, Texas. He built it because he liked it and it has become a tourist attraction. Find out more about the Cathedral of Junk here.

 

This piece was written for the Friday Fictioneers hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple. 

Each week a photo prompt is given and the challenge is write a flash fiction piece of no more than one hundred words.

Find other Friday Fictioneer stories here.

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