To all the shadows cast

Just a parental reprimand

Girls don’t take a stand

You cast a shadow…

A passing pinch on my bottom

Subtle brush-against in a crowd

You cast a shadow…

Boys will be boys

Don’t dress to provoke

You cast a shadow…

Just a harmless kiss

With no respect for my will

You cast a shadow…

Life is all about compromise

It’s a woman’s job

You cast a shadow…

Casual sniggers

Is it that time of the month?

You cast a shadow…

Those shadows grow

Devour me whole

Batter my soul

And when I scream

Confused you ask

What’s all the fuss

PHOTO PROMPT © Sarah Potter

Rochelle wanted us to write fiction based on her Friday Fictioneers photo prompt. But somehow the eerie shadow inspired this outpour. Fiction? If only!

Smile, you’re on camera

The camera kept clicking away.

“O I love your place. These old cobbled streets… and these quaint houses that you still live in. So much history and culture. And your language sounds so romantic. I can’t believe that you actually have wifi. Awesome. Oh, your skin tone is so exotic. Let’s take a selfie. Thanks for letting me click your pictures. Bye.”

LETTING ME? Like I had a choice! Darn tourists. Assuming that the primitives are all waiting around just to chat and pose. And then they wonder why our markets are so expensive – maybe to reimburse us for our loss of privacy and respect.

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Written for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers.

Perfect Cogs

I watch them hurriedly picking out their books for the next class. Little cogs in the wheel rushing from class to class filling their heads with information without the ability to process that information. Little cookie cutters churning out identical unimaginative answers. Their idea of fun and frolic being an ‘educational field trip’. Spending their youth working towards the perfect resume to get accepted into a perfect college that will land them the perfect job. Never understanding that to expect perfect was the most outlandish idea of all.

The bell rings. I straighten my tie and morph into another perfect teacher.   

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Written for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers, using words from The Daily Spur (picking), Fandango’s One-Word Challenge (outlandish), and Your Daily Word Prompt (frolic).

Scones

We met over scones.

“Are they really ‘the best this side of town‘?” twinkling eyes had asked. “The best this side of the country.”

Takeaway soon evolved into breakfast. It’s not like we sat in the café. That would not be proper. We usually strolled by the flower beds as he regaled me with his always intriguing, sometimes scandalous, tales of travel. Amazing how he could simultaneously devour his scones, and ofttimes even mine. But then buttery warm scones will make you do that.

“These are the best. I’m going to miss them,” he had said.

I don’t know… somehow, they just don’t taste as good anymore.

PHOTO PROMPT – © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Written for the Friday Fictioneers prompt of 23 Oct 2020 hosted by our wonderful Rochelle.

Cheers to you on your  8th anniversary as Friday Fictioneers facilitator and God bless.

Go Pink

PHOTO PROMPT © C.E.Ayr

The blatant stares and quizzical looks didn’t faze him. He knew that pink wasn’t considered a ‘manly’ look on a boat. Anyhow, what the hell was a ‘manly’ look? If it was OK to refer to the boat as a ‘she’, then why not paint it pink!

“I did it for my wife, brother,” he told everyone.

Sure, the boat was already named after her, but it was October. He owed her more. How could he not do his bit to recognize the strength of millions of women like her.

The questions were welcome… gave him the opportunity to explain. Them to ponder.

Image from http://wfmj.images.worldnow.com

In response to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers prompt of 16 Oct 2020; also Fandango’s One Word Challenge – Ponder.

The Exit

Image by Bikurgurl

Traffic was reasonable.

He flashed his indicator and started merging into the right lane. The exit to the airport was just 7 miles away. His eyes darted to the clock. It shouldn’t take more than 10 minutes at the car-rental. Yes, he was making good time.

He had seen the marine plant truck pull in as he left. $55 a ton was good money and they wanted the load lifted as soon as possible.

They had thought him a fool for selling the place with the seaweed wrack.

The joke was on them. Only he knew what lay at the bottom of the pile.    

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Written in response to Bikurgurl’s photo prompt for 100 Word Wednesday: 169 and Rochelle’s photo prompt for Friday Fictioneers of 9 Oct 2020

Flash

A broken box in a dilapidated alley.

Junk?

That’s what they want you to think.

In this busy city with its busy people who are always rushing to get to God-knows-where, they know that you won’t pause long enough to wonder how it suddenly got here. Or why?

They know that you will probably never notice the quixotic man slink towards the broken box and reach for it with nimble fingers.

That you will never look long enough to see him duck into the box and disappear with a flash of light.

They have it all planned out.

PHOTO PROMPT © Rowena Curtin

Written for the Friday Fictioneers of 2 Oct 2020

The way he likes it

She wound the Jasmin flowers around her hair. Perhaps the red chiffon saree and the string of rubies were a bit much for a simple home meal, but it had been his gift for their 25^th anniversary.

The kitchen was alive with the aroma of his favourite garlic curry. A slow jazz played on the radio.

Yes, he would have been pleased if he came home now.

“Is this how you honour his memory on his first death anniversary?” his mother had railed.

“Ma, he died, but I live.”

Ma didn’t understand. But he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Written for the Friday Fictioneers of 25 Sep 2020

Circles

Could she possibly shuffle along any slower!

I suppose I would get a few minutes to buy popcorn if I ran from the community center to the movies. Assuming Mark has bought the tickets…

Great, now she’s staring at that trash… AND SMILING.  I knew that look. Another one of her rambling antics.

“A baby-chair and a patient’s bed – one beside the other. The irony of life.

Oh, a baby cot too. The complete circle.”

There goes the popcorn.

“Signal,” I yelp as I nudge her forward.  

Crap… She almost tripped. Why do I always get stuck with her!

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The Waiting

They stood, watching, waiting…

The ferocious army that all three worlds feared. Deceived and frozen. A million moons leaving them covered in sand and dust. Their existence purged from the annals of time.

Yet they waited. As patient as snipers.

They could see.

The reign of the sorcerers had come to an end. Hunted and eliminated due to their own arrogance.

It was the age of the men.

Greedy fools. With every passing year they came closer.

Soon, they would break stone; and the curse would be broken.

The army would rise again.

The reign of the demons would start.

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In response to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers challenge of 4 Jan 2019, based on a photo by Russell Gayer