Word Count: 100
A Magical Tour
The tour was sold out. Placing a brochure on every seat, Susan anticipated a very busy day.
A middle-aged couple queried everything about the legend and the castle. Later, visiting the cave below, while she warned everyone about the dangers of straying from the path, the man shouted from the far wall, ‘it says in your blurb that Merlin lived here, how could you know?’
‘Yes, how could you know?’ the woman sniggered. Susan pointed to an opening behind them, ‘you could find out in there.’
Afterwards, everyone complimented her on a great experience.
No-one mentioned the two empty seats.
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Thanks to our FBM Rochelle for supplying the photo for the prompt this week and for being there week after week ….it means a lot.
For more about Cornwall, Merlin’s cave below Tintagel castle, you can check the English Heritage link
Thanks to Georgia Koch for the lovely photo for our prompt this week and to our intrepid Captain Rochelle for navigating our good ship Friday Fictioneers through all kinds of seas.
(I love this photograph and am so grateful to Rochelle for using it as the re-run this week and I have posted my original story. At present my ship is a bit wobbly, due in part to OH not being well, but we will be back on course very soon).
Copyright – Georgia Koch
Weathering Our Storm
Will you come with me, to Venice?’
An invitation to the place where we began would once have sent my heart soaring. Dare I allow it to do so again?
‘I’ll think about it, if that’s alright?’
Oh, the care we take with one another. I couldn’t ride out the maelstrom of his affair. I had to scream it out, to hit back verbally against the waves of pain and sadness that engulfed and threatened to overpower me.
But somehow the storm abated, he chose to stay. How ambitious we are, how determined to keep our precious ship afloat.
For more stories click here
Copyright Madison Woods
‘Dad, there a truck outside full of barbed wire, d’you know anything about it?’
‘It’s for river meadow. I’m sick of that bloody woman’s dogs worrying our sheep, time to get tough.’
‘You don’t know her dogs are to blame, more likely a fox.’
‘It’s her fault!
I don t know why he hated her. Since I bumped into her in the village, we’ve got on really well. She liked the fact our hair is almost the same colour.
My mother left us when I was small; it’s good to have a woman to talk to occasionally.
Dad wouldn’t understand.
For more stories (Sorry the little blue froggy thing is on strike)
This was my original post for this prompt back in 2012. Can’t quite believe it was so long ago but, as the saying goes ‘time flies when you’re having fun’ and Friday Fictioneers certainly provides that in spades! Delighted to hear that Sandra Crook a stalwart of FF, is one of ten people short-listed for the Magic Oxygen Literary Prize 2016 and that our FBM Rochelle is busy with her next book and interviews on radio etc., etc., don’t know where she gets her energy from, wish I could borrow some 🙂
Image courtesy of Sean Fallon
The boy stands anxiously in line
Money clutched tightly in his hand
As one by one a box is taken from the pile on the counter
And handed to a mother, sister, grandfather, brother, father
He has none of these.
Nearing the front, he leans forward and tries to see if there is one for him
Then a brightly coloured jar catches his eye
It is full of cars, trains, planes and robots
Tucking it under his arm, he walks out smiling
His guardian waits to take him back to the home
Back to where the old toys are cheering
click to read more stories…
Thanks to Sandra Crook for the photo prompt this week and belated congratulations on her well deserved competition win, a great story. Thanks as always to Rochelle who nevers wavers in support and encouragement.
‘What will you do Grace, have you decided?’
‘For goodness sake Lewis, she only buried Edward this morning, she has yet to come to terms with being alone.’
Grace smiled. She had been ‘alone’ in the sense that Sarah meant it, for years. The Turner twins, friends since childhood, took sibling rivalry to new heights. They wouldn’t understand what she was about to do; she decided against explanation.
Edward’s death was sudden, unexpected. The twins, like the rest of her circle who expected tears and sadness, were perplexed by Grace’s calm exterior. Meanwhile, her heart, sensing freedom, was soaring.
(For some reason I can’t add the little blue froggy link, to read more stories go to Rochelle’s blog and click on the link there)
Another wet week in Wales, no wonder it’s so green here…… Thanks as always to our fairy blogmother Rochelle and this week’s thanks for the photo prompt, go to the sometimes poetic always interesting CE Ayr
Copyright CE Ayr
Word Count: 100
Grace shielded her eyes against the glare. At the end of the track stood the white-washed farmhouse they’d been searching for. Forty years ago, for reasons that were inescapable, she had turned away from Jack and married Edward. She had kept their secret all this time, until Edward’s death set her free.
In the lavender fields of France, the powerful scent calmed her nerves. The long journey was almost over. Grace saw someone on a tractor in the distance and a moment of panic gripped her, she started to shake.
Amy gently took her hand,’go on gran, it will alright’
Thankfully the rain has ceased, but now the bright, crisp, frosty mornings come as a shock to the system. Where did I put that de-icer? I know there’s a can here somewhere…
Many thanks to Rochelle for continuing to inspire us and, this week, thanks to her husband, Jan, for the photo prompt.
Copyright: Jan Fields
Word Count: 100
‘I want to learn the piano.’
‘You would like to learn the piano.’
‘Sorry. I’d like to learn the piano. Please?
‘We can only afford one lesson each week and your sister asked first.’
I remember that conversation so well, though it took place a lifetime ago. My sister was my mother’s favourite then, and could do no wrong.
I was a tomboy. I bit my nails, climbed trees, ran wild and played with the boys. Definitely not mother’s idea of a pianist.
The piano took some punishment for a few months, until my sister discovered the local ballet class.
My thanks to our leader Rochelle for being here every week, whether the road is rocky or smooth we follow wherever she leads.
Thanks also to Amy Reese for the photo this week.
Word Count: 100
The First Step
I smile, accepting their mild applause. I’ve been out of my comfort zone in front of this class of restless fifth form girls, delivering a talk entitled – ‘Succeeding as a Woman in Business.’ Questions follow. Though I am enthusiastic, questioning their reasoning, hoping to provoke engagement, the poverty of aspiration astounds me.
Struggling to understand their attitude, I walk towards my car. Tamara, the quiet girl who said she wants to be a hairdresser, stops me.
‘My family’s been out of work for years. How can I be any different?’
I tell her she has just taken the first step.
I attended a local school, at the invitation of the Head of Business Studies, to speak to fifth firm girls about my story, how I got to where I am. The girls’ lack of aspiration that day still concerns me.
Happy New Year! I hope you all enjoyed the holidays, however you celebrated them. It’s good to be back at Friday Fictioneers Central. Huge thanks to Rochelle for finding time to organise this group in between writing novels, visiting family or icing the odd cake, and my thanks to all who contribute each week making this a fantastic group to be a part of.
Word count: 100
‘Would you really buy one, if you won the Lottery?’
‘Well it’s on my list. I’d love one. Just think of the freedom, taking off whenever you wanted…’
‘What else is on your list?’
‘A long stay at a health farm, I fancy the one in Arizona where all the celebs go to get their fat sucked out.’
They both laughed as Mel placed the magazine back on the bedside cabinet. She sat on the bed, reaching for her best friend’s hand. There would be no flight or health farm visit; they both knew it, but it helped to dream.