Thanks Rochelle for hosting. Links can found here. 100 word story written under the influence of strong beer at 2 something in the morning…hangover cut short by an early A.M. rise..could still be drunk! Happy Valentine’s Day!
Got caught up this week with the court case and all. It never ends.
Well it’s that time…All stories can be found here. Thanks Rochelle for hosting.
I wrote this story and asked Rich to check it out for me. He helped bring it to new heights….Darn good editor. He said I did most of the hard work but oddly I do not see it that way. So this weeks offer is by both Rich and I.
His mini poodle Ernest was tucked neatly under the seat in his carry-on cage as Flight 505 raced down the runway. The idea of returning to his partner’s arms lightened his heart as the plane floated to the clouds. After finally finding the courage to admit his true feelings, he proudly told everyone and enjoyed his new emotional freedom. He couldn’t have been happier. His skin sparkled in the window’s reflection as he looked out at the wing, only to see the engine rip away. For the first time in his life, it was okay to scream like a schoolgirl.
Here is the original…my suggestion to add school girl, he added all the other great details…
With his little dog Ernest tucked neatly under the seat in his carry-on cage the flight raced down the runway. The idea of being back in his lovers arms lighten his heart as the plane floated off the tarmac. He had found the courage to come of out the closet. He told everyone of his new freedom. He was the happiest he had ever been. His skin sparkled in the reflection of the window as he looked out at the wing, only to see the engine rip off. For the first time in his life he screamed like a girl.
I would like to thank our lovely host Rochelle. All other stories can be found here. The picture, photo and sculpture all done by the extremely talented Claire Fuller.
Not a big fan of the 300 word introduction to the one hundred word story… I totally understand if you skip ahead to my 100 word offering.
This story is nonfiction and is based on the love of my life, my girlfriend Sabrina. I had a tough week because I lost a close friend. Half numb, slightly hung over and tired from sleep deprived nights I didn’t think I would participate this week but my addictive personality got the best of me. As hard as I tried I could not shake this monkey on my back known as the Friday Fictioneers. I also apologize for my lack of commenting last week.
When I look at the picture with the statue in it, it reminds me of two people so close they are one, intermingled in thought and emotion. Eyes closed, warmth surrounding them, feeling the wave of their love flowing through each other. That is how I feel with Sabrina. During a dark week she was my light, and I had no choice but to make her the subject of this weeks prompt.
On the bed with my legs over yours we lie back as I read to you. The sun comes through the window, we are nude and fit together as we adjust for position. Normally uncomfortable naked with the blinds open I am the statue of the Dying Gaul in your mind and I can feel your eyes as I can feel the morning light coming through the windows. I put the book down, curl around you and whisper without need for restraint thoughts I normally do not share. I breathe in the scent of the only woman I love.
It’s time for that weekly fun known as Friday Fictioneers or as I call it 100 word Friday…All stories can be found here. Thanks Rochelle for hosting.
The sky’s thirst robbed the sea of her water. Gray-blue haze covered the horizon, mixing sea and air. The day inhaled the endless ocean. In the distance sky and water were one. Up close the air was layered, heavy on the chest and thick on the brow. The sea rippled by winds out of the southeast. Scarce light danced bright in diamond shapes across her surface. Lapping waves on sugar sand lulled me to sleep by the palm tree. The shade, the cerveza, her hips and knowing it would all soon change. The relationship formed by the approaching storm clouds.
*After reading the comments I decided I would change the title of this story so people would understand from the start where this story takes place…
* A few days later… yet another title change thanks to the boss. That is not a typo. It is the boss with a little “b”. There is only one Boss with a big “B”. The Man from Jersey who rips up a stage, playing for hours. The working man’s Boss…..
So from New York comes a reward for good commentary. It’s not Just Fireworks it’s
Now on with story and Ted I am waiting on your word count.
Just to remind anyone reading, it is now called
Somewhere In Japan
Seamus and Tareek towered above the crowd maybe the whole nation. Seamus stood 6’2” with a chunk of red hair. Tereek’s muscles rippled with every movement.
“I tried telling them, Tareek.”
“Did you show them your passport?”
“Yep. They think we are being humble. Must be a cultural thing.”
“Can’t they read English?”
They both looked around, smiled and chuckled.
“Not that well I guess.”
“Seamus at least they don’t think I’m your slave.”
“Remind me to tell you about… Irish need not apply.”
The celebration began in their honor.
“Don’t forget I’m Mark McGwire and you’re Sammy Sosa.”
Greg did not come for the coffee or the company of people. It was the view he loved. He sat by the window, his eyes turned in the direction of Julia. The details printed into memory, an actor’s role in a play. He knew what he would say. He had practiced a thousand times.
Her hazel eyes met his. Stage fright set in. He stuttered, blushed and whispered words only he could hear.
I really wanted to write something happy this week. Something with a little holiday cheer but when I clicked on the photo prompt I was instantly overwhelmed by the cute cat and couldn’t help but think about my best friend and his family who lost their Cat Star on Tuesday night.
Star was warmth in your home but on a cold night she’d steal your heat. Even the allergic one respected her.
“Cats don’t have masters they have a staff”.
When you slept on the couch Star rode your hip, a log in a river. Eight lives used up by fights and cars. The south side bay window is where she spent her ninth life. Heart disease robbed her balance. Star went palsy climbing the stairs and had to be put down. The little one’s innocence stolen by the first shovel of dirt.