Friday Fictioneers: Expectations

Posted on March 24, 2024March 24, 2024 by Kathy Waller in Uncategorized

Friday Fictioneers Challenge: Write a 100-word story based on the photo.

Emma stopped and looked back. Blake stood at the window. When she waved, he drew the curtain.

At home, she waited, holding her phone. Sorry, he would say. I’ll come over.

She always said, Yes.

He would be hungry. She started for the kitchen.

The phone. “Emma? It’s Alan. From the office? I want—I mean—I’d really like it if—Would you have dinner with me?”

A request. From a man not presuming a Yes.

“Yes.”

Smiling, she turned off the phone.

Things don’t always work out as you expected. Sometimes they work out better.

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Friday Fictioneers is sponsored by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. To join in, visit her website.

To read more stories by Friday Fictioneers, click here:

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Image of from by Victoria via Pixabay.

100-Word Story: You’ll Be Fine

Posted on April 1, 2017April 1, 2017 by Kathy Waller in Uncategorized

GENRE: One line of fiction. The rest is truth.
100 words

Dedicated to my dear cousin Mary Veazey, who said, “Let’s go on a cruise.”
I have almost forgiven her.

POETIC JUSTICE or, YOU’LL BE FINE

Beautiful . . . waves, sunset . . .

Deck chairs . . .

Two nights at sea, then—shopping in Can Cún.

Uh-uh. Swimming, sunbathing, siestas. Bar open yet?

Soooooo relaxing. Waves rocked me to sleep.

Hurry, let’s claim our chairs.

Breakfast?

Chairs. There’s pizza near the pool.

I’m queasy.

Wearing your patch?

Don’t have one.

Sit here. Sea air helps. ‘Bye.

Find a doctor.

You’ll be fine.

Move, or I’ll ruin your sneakers.

I’m going home . . .

You’ve had a shot of phenergan—you’ll be fine.

. . . if I have to swim.

Phenergan worked! I’m fine. Let’s shop till we drop.

. . . I’m queasy.

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For more stories by Friday Fictioneers, click the Frog:

100 Words: I Told You–

Posted on May 8, 2015November 19, 2016 by Kathy Waller in Uncategorized

Friday Fictioneers: Write a 100-word story based on the prompt.

faucet-21-224x3001.jpg (224×300) — PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Madison Woods

Screams pierced the air. The woman dropped her trowel and raced across the yard. “What happened?”

Pushing through a ring of children, she lifted the crying child, examined the swelling lip.

A Greek chorus erupted.

“–wasp–”

“–hydrant–”

“—stung–“

“Lisabeth, I told you not to drink from the hydrant.” Then, turning, “She’s four. You’re ten–”

“I was rescuing Kitty from–Mom, I can’t watch her every second.”

“Get the baking soda.”

TLC applied, the woman returned to gardening.

Screams pierced the air. She ran.

“Lisabeth teased Kitty and–“

“Lisabeth, I told you–”

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Every Wednesday, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields issues the Friday Fictioneers challenge. She posts a picture prompt and invites readers to write stories of 100 words or fewer and to post them on their blogs the following Friday. This week’s prompt is here (scroll down the page to see it). Rochelle’s story follows it.

To read more stories by Friday Fictioneers, click on the frog, below.

‘Shrooms

Posted on March 7, 2015March 7, 2015 by Kathy Waller in Uncategorized

Friday Fictioneers
100 words

Friday Fictioneers Prompt.
Copyright Erin Leary.

John ambled into the kitchen. “What’s cooking?”

“Mushroom gravy.” Mary kept stirring.

John frowned. “Toadstools. Fungi. Dorothy Sayers killed someone with Amanita.“

“These are morels.” She added salt. “Everybody eats mushrooms.”

“I don’t.”

“Suit yourself.”

He sat down. “Where’d you buy them?”

“I picked them.”

“You?“

“Aunt Helen helped. She knows ‘shrooms.” Mary held out a spoonful. “Taste.”

“Well . . . ” John tasted. “Mmmm. Seconds?”

“Yoo-hoo.” Aunt Helen bustled in. “Like my new glasses? Those old ones–I couldn’t see doodly squat.”

Mary looked at the gravy, then at John. “Maybe you should spit that out,” she said.

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100 Words: Nothing But Gray

Posted on January 15, 2015January 15, 2015 by Kathy Waller in Uncategorized

Friday Fictioneer Challenge: Write a 100-word story based on the prompt.

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PHOTO PROMPT - Copyright Jan Wayne Fields — Friday Fictioneer Prompt. Copyright Jan Wayne Fields

Nothing But Gray

Paul stood, hands in pockets, looking out.

She’s set four places again, he thought. And she sits in a different chair now, doesn’t talk, just looks out the window at nothing but gray stone.

She brought in a covered dish. “Chicken casserole. Your father’s favorite.”

He heard Jack slip in and pull out a chair. Paul didn’t move.

She sat down. “Come. Eat.”

He turned. “Every night, Mom, four plates. And you, just staring.”

“Four people, four plates.”

“Dad’s dead, Mom. He’s dead. Three months now.”

She unfolded her napkin. “And I watch for your father. He’ll be home soon.”

*****

Rochelle Wisoff – Fields – Addicted to Purple

Prompt: 16 January 2015