Friday Fictioneers: Dangerous Storm

Photo Credit: Lucy Fridkin for explicit use of Friday Fictioneers

Jason looked at the sky then over to his partner Roger who also had an eye on the sky. Sure, the sky looked beautiful and peaceful enough, but despite the beauty, they knew that a dangerous storm was brewing. Instantly, there minds went to sisters Angelica and Rene, one of whom was expecting.
“Don’t worry dude,” Roger assured, she’ll be fine. She’s a smart gal. Besides Angelica’s with her so she’s in good hands.

Jason nodded. Still, he felt that much better when they started heading code 3 – Lights & Sirens down the road towards his house.

This is written for Friday Fictioneers hosted, each week, by Rochelle Weisoff-Fields.  Write a complete story in 100 words inspired by the given photo.

Read more stories here.


FFfAW Challenge – In The Wrong Hands 

Izzy scooted along the ground through the tall grass searching for the stone, wanting to find it before someone stumbled upon it and it ended up in the wrong hands. Even in the wrong hands of an otherwise innocent person the stone could be dangerous even deadly.

Ahead of her Izzy heard voices and stopped, holding her breath, and waited – willing the others to leave the area. Unfortunately her abilities to control others in this way were weak at best – Not something she had much chance to practice since it was an ability she only ever used when extreme measures warranted… Such as now. Finally, the group of people left the area, commenting that they felt that therevwad another area more interesting to explore.Continuing her search, Izzy finally located the stone. As she picked it up, it began to glow a soft warm green in her hand.

Written for FFfAW Challenge-Week of December 6, 2016 – Unfortunately I couldn’t add the “inspiring” photo for this challenge.  

Read other stories here 


Thought I’d do this week’s In Other Words challenge (hosted by Patricia) as a story.  The word she gave us was giving the challenge to write a story or poem in 5 lines or less.  

She had always been considered a kind hearted and giving person.

She was always giving to those in need.

Each day she would make her rounds amongst the homeless passing out jackets & blankets to those who needed them.

Money was of no concern to her. With no family to care for, she needed very little for herself.

Then one day the money was gone and she found herself with nothing… The lady that had been so giving was in need of being given to

Sunday Photo Fiction – Fighting Fires

Barbara couldn’t help but notice the way the weather looked as she vacuumed her living room. Way off in the distance, she could just barely make out the flames of the forest fire they had been called out to. She knew the weather didn’t bode well for her husband and the rest of the hotshots. She could only hope the weather didn’t get too much worse or the boys would be in for a terrible time.

Barbara had thought about asking Jeff to sit this one out. She had had a bad feeling and didn’t want him to go. In the end she had swallowed her concerns and let him go… No way she could hold him back from something that was so much a part of him. As he left to “go to work”, Barbara could only pray for him and the rest of the guys, pray for their safety, pray for the quick cessation of the fires they were trying to fight.

Now, as she looked out the window, Barbara prayed once more for her husband and for the rest of the crew.

The above story was inspired by the following photo.

And was written for the Sunday Photo Fiction 

Fires are Burning

Some awesome stories in response to the Prompt.

Carrot Ranch Literary Community

firesWe didn’t start the fire…no, wait, yes we did. We fired up the imagination and penned stories from around the campfire ring. Or about stories that ring us with fire. It’s a fired up subject for flash fiction.

Writers found ways to express stories through flame.

The following flash fiction are based on the November 17, 2016 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that is told around a campfire.


Flameout by Bill Engelson

The next morning, Aggie paused on the outskirts of Union City.

The funeral pyre was still smoldering, pumping out rings of foul smoke, smelling of dead flesh and the horror of divine providence.

“We’ll bury Dobbs, Mrs. Runacre,” Hank Taylor had promised, “but for the others, even the flames won’t remove their stain.”

Astride General Grant, bidding farewell, bundled and provisioned for her long ride back to the mountains, she…

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