Copyright – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
She stood admiring her handiwork. Each time she finished a piece, or found just the right artifact to honor her last conquest, a celebration followed with a bottle of Champagne. The shelf was finally full; she was bursting with excitement… and grief. Now what? This was her life’s work, nothing else will fill the void, nothing else could be as exciting, and she didn’t have the energy to start again.
Besides, the trinkets were in no way her true art. The lost souls that inspired each trinket were the prize and now she didn’t have anyone left for inspiration.
This story represents my entry into Friday Fictioneers
Copyright – Dawn M. Miller
“Greg was a great man,” he told her, “he saved my life even though I didn’t deserve it; I would take his place if I could.” She looked up at him, eyes full of sorrow, only capable of tears.
“Greg was staring at this for an hour before we left on that patrol,” he said, pulling a picture frame out of his pocket. She recognized it from their family vacation, a souvenir from a museum gift shop.
She loved them both before they deployed, her husband never knew. She had prayed he would never find out but this is not what she had in mind.
This is my entry into Friday Fictioneers
The Trifecta Writing Challenge asked for a children’s bedtime story of exactly 33 words. I hope you enjoy.
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Close your eyes and pay attention to your dreams
Tonight’s adventure can bring you so many things
Princesses, unicorns, or pink dragon pets
Close your eyes my sweet child and get some rest
Copyright: Claire Fuller
He would no longer cower as one of the mindless drones trudging through the day to serve their riches. They wouldn’t forget his name again.
He had spent months learning to hit the note just right, the seventh note in a harmonic minor scale, the note that was adjusted up a half step centuries ago to hide its true nature. Back then composers were executed for witchcraft if they harmonized this note in their work, but it couldn’t stay hidden forever.
He took his place among the candles and relics perfectly positioned around him. This would be unforgettable.
This story represents my entry to Friday Fictioneers
Copyright: Alastair Forbes
He expected life to be easy and full of wonder when he retired from the military. Money would be no object since he was inheriting the riverboat business. But he stumbled through each day emotionless and tired, always saying he would adjust eventually. He didn’t believe his own words; he missed the fight, he needed a seemingly tireless enemy teasing him with death, that’s the truth.
A man he knew from his early days in the military stopped by the office. They met years before just as he was getting into special operations. He knew his friend had joined another government organization but was not aware of the details. It’s no surprise he took the offer even though it seemed to good to be true, he had to feel alive again, he needed something, and this would have to do.
A year later he was strapped into a machine destine for his new assignment. Not an assignment in the present but one in the past.
His friend’s disappointment was only due to the fact he would have to start the recruitment process over again. He had grown numb to the pain his test subjects felt when the machine failed.
This story represents this weeks entry to Alastair’s Photo Fiction.
It’s a complement after a life lived well, unconditional love given to every being that crossed her path. God smiled on her return, now she gets endless love from the sun and earth.
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Today the Trifecta Writing Challenge threw us for a loop and required a happy story of exactly 33 words. Short prompts like this are always a challenge for me, I hope you enjoy.
Copyright- Roger Bultot
“She was just sitting here crying when I walked up sir. But there is a lot more going on in that women’s head than just concern over her smashed car.”
“Thanks for calling me directly, how much did she tell you?”
“She says she’s been driving drugs into the city for her boyfriend, says the trunk is full of cocaine. She wouldn’t shut up about her husband, said he’s a limp dick loser. She insisted that I call you, that you two were old friends or something. How do you know her sir?”
“I’m her husband.”
Sally, the drugs, and the rookie officer were never seen again.
This story is my entry into Friday Fictioneers.