Category Archives: Friday Fictioneers

Worst day ever (Friday Fictioneers)

The man sighed when she brought the two plates of waffles.

‘Bad day?’

He looked up. ‘My girl stormed out. Didn’t like that we’d both ordered waffles. I refused to change and now she’s sulking in the car. Worst. Day. Ever.’

Her day had started with cleaning urinals at 6am. Two separate groups had skipped out on the bill and she’d have to pay the difference. Her rent was overdue. Her son had told her that very morning to ‘F$@& off’.

She smiled broadly. ‘That is the worst day ever!’

Above all, she needed a good tip.

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Friday Fictioneers is a challenge set by Rochelle each week where writers from around the world post 100 word stories based on a common photo prompt. For more information, and to read other stories, visit Rochelle’s page here.

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1,324 (Friday Fictioneers)

One thousand, three hundred and twenty-four days have passed since Maggie last went out in the boat.

Every day she comes down and sits silently in the grounded boat, now mossy and falling apart. Sometimes she cries.

One thousand, three hundred and twenty-four days ago her husband died. Oh, how they’d laughed and spent many a wonderful afternoon floating around in that little wooden boat.

Maggie watches Jim and Florence nearby, pushing their boat into the water. They’re arguing about where the ropes should go. Jim raises his voice, Florence rolls her eyes. They don’t realise how lucky they are.

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Friday Fictioneers is a challenge set by Rochelle each week where writers from around the world post 100 word stories based on a common photo prompt. For more information, and to read other stories, visit Rochelle’s page here.

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Preparations (Friday Fictioneers)

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Image by Emmy L Gant at http://unbuttonedorundone.com

‘Paint this wall green. And put those wall stickers like vines growing down from the ceiling. And we’ll need one of those bins that turn dirty nappies into sealed sausages. And it all has to be done THIS weekend.’

‘Can’t I do it when my leave starts?’

‘I’ll be 39 weeks then. The baby could come any day now!’

Midnight Sunday, he’d finished the nursery.

At 39 weeks they had nothing to do.

At 42 weeks he dared to say, ‘I wish I had something to do’.

She threw a slipper at his head. And that’s when the contractions started.

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Friday Fictioneers is a challenge set by Rochelle each week where writers from around the world post 100 word stories based on a common photo prompt. For more information, and to read other stories, visit Rochelle’s page here.

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The grass is always greener (Friday Fictioneers)

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Image by Sean Fallon at http://www.theequiaticbind.com

‘I want the green one, Mummy, the GREEEEEEN OOOONNNEE!’

My two-year-old certainly knows what he likes.

I fish the last green battery out of the jar, then discover that his toy car needs two batteries.

‘They both have to be green, Mummy!’

I drive to seven different shops looking for green batteries. They only have packs of 100 left. At least I know he’ll be happy for a very long time.

The second I walk through the door he greets me with:

‘I don’t like green anymore, Mummy. I like red now.

Of course he does.

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Friday Fictioneers is a challenge set by Rochelle each week where writers from around the world post 100 word stories based on a common photo prompt. For more information, and to read other stories, visit Rochelle’s page here.

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Young love (Friday Fictioneers)

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Image by Sandra Crook at https://castelsarrasin.wordpress.com/

Young love is an extraordinary thing.

She held the picnic basket, full of fresh-baked bread just for him. He carried two pieces of cardboard.

It was her favourite spot. It was his first time.

They sat on one piece each at the top of the grassy slope.

‘Johnny, the picnic spot’s just at that first rock. So don’t go sliding all the way down the-’

They probably should’ve discussed it earlier.

By the time Johnny made it back up he was sweaty, red-faced and significantly less attractive. She noticed her bread had gone stale.

Young love is an extraordinary thing.

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Friday Fictioneers is a challenge set by Rochelle each week where writers from around the world post 100 word stories based on a common photo prompt. For more information, and to read other stories, visit Rochelle’s page here.

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Trend setter (Friday Fictioneers)

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Image by Marie Gail Stratford at https://mariegailstratford.wordpress.com

My son wanted a fire truck for his second birthday. My mother bought him a ‘Bedroom Colour Consult’ with Xavier (no last name).

His team spilled into my son’s room.

‘I’ve always liked chevrons…’ I offered.

Xavier scoffed. ‘Oh, Darling! Chevrons are sooooo 2008.’

Xavier’s assistant looked at his mobile phone and squealed with delight. ‘They revealed Prince George’s new nursery design!’

Xavier snatched the phone off him.

His jaw dropped.

‘Team! Change of plans. Bed goes there, get me one of those mirrored chandeliers and Dominic-‘

‘Yes?’

‘We’re gonna need a LOT of chevrons.’

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Friday Fictioneers is a challenge set by Rochelle each week where writers from around the world post 100 word stories based on a common photo prompt. For more information, and to read other stories, visit Rochelle’s page here.

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Just like her mother (Friday Fictioneers)

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Image by C.E. Ayr at http://ceayr.com/

The orcas painted on the side of the building were spectacular.

‘You have to move out of the bulldozer’s way.’

‘No, Dad. No!’

I’d seen someone pull that face before. Back in 1977.

Eventually, I convinced her to come with me to her mother’s favourite place. The bluff overlooking the ocean.

Out to sea, black dorsal fins skimmed the surface. I wasn’t sure she’d noticed. But then she looked at me, her face softened and she snuggled in close.

The real battle had already been won. Back in 1977. On a zodiac 30 miles out to sea.

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Friday Fictioneers is a challenge set by Rochelle each week where writers from around the world post 100 word stories based on a common photo prompt. For more information, and to read other stories, visit Rochelle’s page here.

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Not alone (Friday Fictioneers)

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Image by Madison Woods

I took my kite out to the fields. There’s never anyone else out there.

When I gaze at the simple brown diamond bouncing across the sky I feel completely, utterly and blissfully alone.

But when I looked up at the sky I blinked. There was another kite! A green one just like mine.

My eyes followed the string of the kite down to ground level.

The owner of the kite had dropped it and was already running away. The green diamond, released, lifted higher into the sky. And I felt relieved.

For a moment there I was almost not alone.

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Friday Fictioneers is a challenge set by Rochelle each week where writers from around the world post 100 word stories based on a common photo prompt. For more information, and to read other stories, visit Rochelle’s page here.

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3 o’clock (Friday Fictioneers)

It all looked familiar.

The dust on the lampshades. The dirt on the cooker. The sharp edges on the large table that always got in the way.

I’d been in that kitchen before. Too many times.

I pulled my hand away from his. ‘I can’t do this.’

‘What about my second chance?’ he spluttered. ‘Things are going to be different this time…’

Then I saw the clock on the wall stuck at 3 o’clock. The batteries still hadn’t been changed.

‘No.’

I said goodbye and walked out of that kitchen for the very last time.

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Friday Fictioneers is a challenge set by Rochelle each week where writers from around the world post 100 word stories based on a common photo prompt. For more information, and to read other stories, visit Rochelle’s page here.

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Turn it on (Friday Fictioneers)

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Image by Madison Woods

He wasn’t your ordinary secret agent, fitting in with the others. Copper hair, watery eyes, smoked a pipe. Got his job via a plug from Sarah Mick who worked in cold calling.

He didn’t force it. But there was a sinking feeling he couldn’t ignore. A pressure in the back of his mind telling him to focus.

He suddenly felt very hot.

Something about the database in his computer. Something about that poor Sue-Lynn from admin who would drip info through every second day.

The colour drained from his face when he realised.

His phone: it had been tapped.

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Friday Fictioneers is a challenge set by Rochelle each week where writers from around the world post 100 word stories based on a common photo prompt. For more information, and to read other stories, visit Rochelle’s page here.

PS if you have discovered the meaning of this story and would like to challenge yourself, the magic number is 16.

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