Tag Archives: friday fictioneers

Flash Fiction is Back: “Victorious” (100)

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The photo inspiration for Friday Fictioneers

The photo inspiration for Friday Fictioneers

For what it was worth, she had won. As if siphoning life through competition, breathing in victory like oxygen, and being the one who stood at the regal apex were enough to justify any means. Of course, having passed the figurative tortoise, she was now standing cold on the pavement, watching her brother cross a different sort of finish line, family in tow.

The thought was commonplace; a holiday reflection prompted by a chance sighting. Laughter. What it would mean to have lost the salary and gained something else – something normal, unquantifiable.

And yet, she had no time for nonsense.

For more flashes prompted by this image, and to learn more about flash fiction, visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple and explore the Friday Fictioneers.

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Unlikely (101)

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This image was provided by Madison Woods as inspiration for the Friday Fictioneers

My dad showed me how to pluck berries from among the thorns, how to gather the precise right amount for a single emergency pie, how to stir the cornstarch with mashed ones and sugar until it thickened. We used oreo crusts and a layer of cream cheese between crust and filling. I was the best picker because I wouldn’t eat them; I had strategies for efficiency and fastidious concentration.

Something is unlikely about it.

In sports I have always been distractible. I am clumsy even with furniture, let alone thorns. I eat small things impulsively.

Yet raspberries, somehow, I can pick.

For more flashes prompted by this image, and to learn more about flash fiction, visit Madison Woods and explore the Friday Fictioneers.

Landing (98)

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This image was provided by Madison Woods as inspiration for the Friday Fictioneers

Two land in fingers of light. Consider the inhabitants. This new place is brighter, though maybe for worse, they think.

What instinct guides a being to move on? What catches in the spirit and signals where to stop, where to begin again?

These two peered in a window, not seeing glass but a barrier. These two were only scouts, the harbingers of change for a whole – what? colony? tribe? civilization? Harbingers.

Somehow we are never paying attention. The beginnings of change, the largest of threats – these begin as quietly as a moth lands. In the still sleeping morning.

For more flashes prompted by this image, and to learn more about flash fiction, visit Madison Woods and explore the Friday Fictioneers.

Dead (97)

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This image was provided by Madison Woods as inspiration for the Friday Fictioneers.

A body discovered. A person disappeared.

She died there, in the cold dark before dawn, when the air is thin like a blade. Ice crystals formed on her lashes and in the corners of her eyes.

I imagine these tears escaped at the last moment, when only a subconscious would be left, before her lungs and heart stilled, but the breath was already slight. She would not have cried before, even if she were afraid.

I would have cried.

Beautiful enough and worthless enough to be killed in some archaic performed artistry. Oh, what have we sacrificed.

For more flashes prompted by this image, and to learn more about flash fiction, visit Madison Woods and explore the Friday Fictioneers.

To Remember Massacre (100)

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This image was provided by Madison Woods as inspiration for the Friday Fictioneers

Between Bear River and Beaver Creek, in the shifting light of dawn, a Red-winged Blackbird calls, seeing the morning, and plays the same whistle for the sun that it does every day.

A Blackbird knows time. It notices the color of the leaves, thick against a branch. It does not remember heavy snow or the color of blood.

This is not redemption or forgiveness. For war, for murder, we get neither; at least not right away. This is only the sweep of time over a place; the realization of a natural world that is absent in judgment, slow in retribution.

For more flashes prompted by this image, and to learn more about flash fiction, visit Madison Woods and explore the Friday Fictioneers.

Beautiful (102)

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This image was provided by Madison Woods as inspiration for the Friday Fictioneers

I said it was beautiful, but she thought I meant she was beautiful. She was, of course. But when she kissed me I reeled, surprised that I might have elicited this; that she might have thought me worth the kiss.

I tangled fingers in her hair – women have long hair, I thought – and I wondered what it would mean to do this and mean it. But I was only looking at the sky, don’t you know? I was only considering a backlit branch when you instructed me in the contour of lips, when you taught me how it felt to be tall.

For more flashes prompted by this image, and to learn more about flash fiction, visit Madison Woods and explore the Friday Fictioneers.

Imprisoned (93)

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This image was provided by Madison Woods as inspiration for the Friday Fictioneers

In the solitude before and after, I still remember waiting. Between cracks in the façade, I saw light and dark as it rose and fell. My breath has no memory.

Incoherent as cows to a hawk, rain falls, driving and down and away, to discover crevices and to drip through. I lay awake counting threes. No time for trembling if the invisible night sky will not wait. No, it is time for escape.

An artifice to flake away; a stone to tumble out.

Such grand escape, only to abandon one detention for another.

For more flashes prompted by this image, and to learn more about flash fiction, visit Madison Woods and explore the Friday Fictioneers.