Seeing the light

April 30, 2014 / Dee / 54 Comments

Hello, it’s great to be here early for once instead of rushing around at the last-minute. I hope you’ve all had a good week. I’m looking forward to the Bank Holiday weekend and Monday off, when I will try to catch up on some of my writing projects (she says with fingers crossed)

Thanks to Renee Heath for the photo prompt this week and a special thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for her continuing support, diplomacy and encouragement.

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

Seeing the light

Frederick watches the crowd gathered on the pavement. They are getting restless. Some shout concerns, about their safety, loss of their livelihoods. Not many seem supportive of his demonstration.

‘You’ll blow us all to kingdom come, you mad German!’

‘It’ll never work!’

‘What about the poor candlemakers?’

His wife tightens her grip on his arm.

At 9pm the gas is turned on. Pall Mall is lit up from end to end; the crowd roars approval, some even come to shake his hand.

‘Listen to them now liebling, no need for your fears. You should have more faith in your husband.’

Artist unknown. Courtesy of National Gas Museum

and now for the history bit…

In 1807, Frederick Winsor, a German born entrepreneur, demonstrated the use of gas to light streets, in London’s Pall Mall. Fifteen years later almost every large town in Britain, as well as Europe and North America, had a gasworks. The company he founded – The Gas Light & Coke Company, continued to supply most of the gas in London, until the industry was nationalised in 1949. Read more at The National Gas Museum website.

For more stories click on Mr Frog

Moonlight on The Ebro

April 26, 2014April 27, 2014 / Dee / 29 Comments

I thought I wasn’t going to make it again this week – apologies to Doug for missing his very intriguing photo prompt last week. I have been attending a conference in Italy – no, it was not lovely, nor was I lucky. The trip went something like this – 2 hour drive – 2.5 hour flight – 2 hours on a bus – 3 hour conference – half hour bus ride – 3.5 hour dinner (no time to change after arriving) 1 hour to hotel – 6 hours sleeping – 1 hour working breakfast – 3 hours of meetings – 2 hours on a bus – 2.5 hour flight back – 2 hour drive back home.

Are you exhausted? I was!

Thanks this week to Bjorn Rudberg for the photo prompt and as always to Rochelle for brilliantly shepherding the Friday Fictioneers into some semblance of order each week.

For some reason, I saw Spanish Civil War…

Genre: Historical fiction

Word Count:100

Moonlight on The Ebro

I remember.

The Ebro shimmered in the moonlight, unimpressed by our consuming passion. We lay holding each other so tight, we could scarcely breathe. The Brigade left quietly, at daybreak.

I taste the saltiness of tears and open my eyes. The music of the street floats in through faded shutters, it stirs memories of ‘Viva la Quinta Brigada’ your anthem, our song.

I am old, tired. I’ve waited a lifetime for my passionate fighter, mi amante.

In the cool evening air, I feel again the pressure of your strong arms. I fall freely, as I did all those years ago.

—o—o—o—o—o

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tqe7LpBUzqU

For more information on the Spanish Civil War and of the men who went to fight against fascism in Spain – The International Brigade

A Very Private Dancer

April 11, 2014April 11, 2014 / Dee / 63 Comments

I was very surprised and delighted that Rochelle had chosen one of my photographs for the prompt this week. It was taken at the end of a fiesta in Valldemossa, a lovely little town in Majorca where we spent a very enjoyable day.

It is so good to see the number of writers taking part in Friday Fictioneers increasing week on week, justification, if any were needed, for Rochelle to continue her sterling work.

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

A Very Private Dancer

The dancer moves across wooden boards that shiver beneath his feet. A five-year old boy watches, marrying the dance with the music in his heart.

The crowd holds its breath then finally erupts with cheers and applause.

‘Cristobal, Cristobal,’ their chants escape through the fluttering banners, rising up into the warm night.

Alone in the shadows, the boy makes up his own steps. Stamping and twirling in his own time, imitating the uncle he adores; determination etched upon his serious face.

All too soon the world will learn of his exceptional talent.

For now though, his world is enough.

A Silent Star

April 2, 2014April 5, 2014 / Dee / 47 Comments

Hello fellow Friday Fictioneers, hope you’ve all had a good week. Mine has been hectic, got back from holiday last week (will post about it soon) to a pile of emails – do emails pile? Anyway, there were quite a lot of the little devils waiting for an answer…

Today, once again we bow to the summons from Madame Rochelle – thankfully she is still in charge of the proceedings, and to the photographic skills this week of Kent Bonham.

100 words are what is required to enter the world of Friday Fictioneers, what are you waiting for? Join us, we are quite normal – most of the time…

Genre: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 100

A Silent Star

Nora wanders onto the dimly lit set. Everything is different now. She falters then sees the lights. Standing in the bright spotlight of her memory she laughs, remembering heady days of stardom, the fawning of countless suitors.

Eyes wide, she strikes a pose for imaginary cameras, blowing kisses to imaginary fans.

‘My darlings, I’ll come back to you soon,’ she shouts to the empty space as the light fades.

‘Nora, the visit is over, time to go. Come along quietly. Look, your fans are waiting.’

‘They still adore me.’

She darts away, her high-pitched laughter ringing through the building.

*-*-*-*-*-*-

A nod to ‘ Norma Desmond’ the ageing silent star, played superbly by Gloria Swanson in the film “Sunset Boulevard”

Thanks to Rochelle, the Norma Desmond send up, by the brilliant Carol Burnett

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aLO4z5m89TE

100 Nightmares – coming very soon

March 29, 2014 / Dee / 3 Comments

Horror is not a genre I usually feel comfortable with. That said there is something about the writing of K.Z. Morano that draws you in, in spite of yourself. How someone who looks so sweet, could write such gut-wrenching stories baffled me when I first read her work. But she is a writer who can turn her pen to other genres too, and I admire her ability to do that.

She has put together 100 of her stories into a book ‘100 Nightmares’ which will be released very soon. Read them if you dare…

100 NIGHTMARES – COVER REVEAL!

COMING THIS APRIL! — official date TBA

100 NIGHTMARES by K.Z. Morano is a collection of horror stories written in exactly 100 words and accompanied by a few illustrations.

It takes a brief encounter with death to cause enduring nightmares.

A single well-placed blow could maim you for life…

One well-placed word could haunt you forever.

Micro-fiction is a blade—sharp, swift…

Sometimes it goes for the jugular, killing you in seconds.

Its silver tongue touches your throat and warm blood hisses before you can scream.

Sometimes, the knife makes micro-cuts in the sensitive sheath of your sanity, creating wounds that will fester throughout eternity.

Take my 100 words daily like a slow-acting poison or read them all and die of overdose.

Your call.

It’s your suicide after all.

The Author

K.Z. Morano is an eclectic eccentric… a writer, a beach bum and a chocolate addict who writes anything from romance and erotica to horror, fantasy, sci-fi and bizarro fiction. Over the past few months, her stories have appeared in various anthologies, magazines and online venues. Visit her at http://theeclecticeccentricshopaholic.wordpress.com/ where she posts short fiction and photographs weekly.

For more updates on the story collection like K.Z.’s Facebook page www.facebook.com/100Nightmares

The Games Children Play

March 26, 2014March 26, 2014 / Dee / 49 Comments

An early prompt this week, thought I was still caught up in jet-lag-holiday-mode.

Once again, Queen Rochelle gathers her workers about her with a new prompt, this week the photograph is courtesy of John Nixon. I love the wizened looking trees and twisted roots, and guess the photo will provide the usual brilliantly inventive stories from the other Friday Fictioneers. You can read mine below the photograph.

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

The Games Children Play

‘You abducted him, admit it’

‘No!’

‘You say you know where he is’

‘Sort of’

‘So you took him?’

The world slows, the mist comes. I see a blindfolded child standing in front of a tree; five older boys are running away.

‘I can see him, in a wood’

‘You can see him in a wood, what sort of crap is that?’

‘I came here to help. I see things. I didn’t take him, but I can see him’

‘You see things? Then I guess you know what’s coming! Lock him up Ben’

I see the bough break.

And fall.

You can read more stories here

The Island

March 5, 2014March 5, 2014 / Dee / 46 Comments

Hello from sunny Wales! It’s been a long time since I could say that. Seems the rains have eased, fingers crossed.

Another Wednesday, time for another Friday Fictioneers story. Thanks as usual to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields who is in sci-fi mode this week and also to Danny Bowman, for providing the photo prompt.

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

The Island

The island has been in my family for generations. It’s home to seabirds and seals, virtually uninhabited most of the year. The crossing can be quite dangerous; I was intrigued by his suggestion that we take the boat across.

‘You OK?’

‘Not really, be glad to land’

‘You didn’t ask why’

‘Thought you’d tell me once we got there’

‘You think you’re going to get there?’

‘What?’

‘Where did you put the papers from Islandhopper?’

‘That was years ago. I’m still not signing’

He made a grab for me as the boat rolled.

The ocean holds lots of secrets

For more FF stories click Mr Froggy

Hayride

February 26, 2014February 27, 2014 / Dee / 46 Comments

I have missed the Friday Fictioneers community in recent weeks, due mainly to lack of inspiration and a lost muse! However, after my previous post, thanks to some very kind messages of support from Erin, Dawn, Ruth and John, that basically told me to ‘just get on and write’ I have a story; a memoir prompted by Sandra’s photo this week.

Thanks as always to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for organising the prompts and supporting all the writers, and this week to Sandra Cook for her lovely photograph.

Genre: Memoir

Word Count: 100

Hayride

I remember.

‘Come on up. You can do it!’

I struggle, balancing on fat bales. My grandfather pulls me up and drops me on the hay. I pick bits of straw from my unruly hair then scramble forward to watch Joe start the tractor.

The sun is warm on my back, the air is still. I feel hot, the straw scratches my legs and they itch. My father waves his shirt to me from the open gate, he is laughing, happy.

At the farmhouse, my mother and grandmother wait with warm scones fresh from the oven…

That summer, long ago.

For more FF stories click here

To help with my personal reboot, I have also changed the appearance of my blog. There are a few glitches to iron out, but I hope you like the new layout.

Shabby Love

January 8, 2014January 8, 2014 / Dee / 28 Comments

Happy New Year!! Hope you are all well and keeping warm and dry as we battle this dreadful weather.

Welcome to another year of Friday Fictioneers, hosted as always by the one and only Rochelle. You can get more information about how to join our happy band, the rules and regulations etc., by going along to her website here. Thanks for the photo this week to Dawn Quyle Landau

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Shabby Love

Our meeting place has lost its charm.

I happened there by chance, and remembered

How much I loved you, once.

We met often, making plans for ‘sometime later’

Until the day you pressured me for things I could not do.

You lashed out, calling me prude and names

I’d never heard nor understood.

I ran from you in tears, upset and hurt,

Much later realising the valuable lesson learned.

Love is not always kind, or what you hoped for.

True love comes when you are least prepared for it.

The little hut is shabby now, like your supposed love for me.

———–

Click on the little blue froggy thing for more stories

Jake and the Dolphin

December 20, 2013December 20, 2013 / Dee / 11 Comments

Thanks to Rochelle for shepherding the Friday Fictioneers throughout the year. I have thoroughly enjoyed posting a story almost every week, and thanks to constructive comments from some very talented writers, I feel my writing has improved a great deal. The lovely photo this week is courtesy of Jean Hays – I seem to remember having another of her beautiful stained glass panes as a previous prompt.

Not long now until Christmas, only five sleeps as youngest son told me (he is 36). So, may I take this opportunity, whether you celebrate Christmas or your own particular special celebration, to wish you all peace and happiness and a wonderful holiday with friends and loved ones.

Genre: Fiction

Word Count: 100

Jake and the Dolphin

Every year Jake’s parents took him to Florida for Christmas, hoping the holiday sunshine would help him.

‘We’re going to swim with dolphins this trip.’

Jake didn’t react; that wasn’t unusual.

Late in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, as they splashed about, a dolphin appeared alongside. Gently nudging Jake, it guided him through the water. Jake held him tightly. People stopped to watch the boy with the dolphin, seemingly playing together.

When he was put to bed, Jake turned to his mother and whispered ‘Love you’

She stared momentarily, not believing her ears, then hugged him.

‘Jake, you can talk.’

This is based on something that happened to a friend’s son. He was diagnosed with autism, a most cruel affliction, when he was two years old. He had no speech at all and although seemingly happy in all other ways, his frustration at not being able to make himself understood, gave rise to terrible temper tantrums that affected all the family. It got so bad that at times they just couldn’t take him anywhere.

When he was nine, he went swimming with dolphins and a short time afterwards, he was able to speak. Not fluently, but enough to make himself understood. The medical team was very doubtful that the dolphin had anything to do with it. His mother believed that the dolphin had helped her son and I like to think so too.
for more stories from the Fictioneers click the little blue froggy