Monthly Archives: September 2015

Friday Fictioneers – The Waiting Room

ff300915He’s such a lovely man, Mr Williams. For thirty years he’s owned the card shop opposite the village Post Office. His only daughter, Grace, was a friend of my sister’s at school. His wife, Barbara, had been a stalwart on our local community council. Grace now lives in Australia, and Barbara only in his memories.

Nothing had been said to me of course, but the look on her face as she scanned down his results had told me everything I needed to know. Back at my desk I’d set up this morning’s appointment straight away.

A green light flashed on my console.

“Mr Williams, Dr. Francis will see you now.”

friday-fictioneers

These words form my entry into Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.

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Sunday Photo Fiction – Endings and Beginnings

122-09-september-20th-2015‘What is it tonight?’ asked Pete, my dorm mate.

‘Citizen Kane,’ I replied.

‘Not again!’

‘Come on, Pete, it’s only the third time this semester. Afterwards there’ll be a discussion on the film’s impact on 21st century cinema…and don’t forget the cheese dip, pizza and wine.’

‘Wow, hold me back, already. Come on, Joe, it’s Friday night and you want to sit in a dusty basement with a bunch of bores, watching a naff black and white movie?’

‘It’s a classic?’ I insisted.

‘Yeh, well go and enjoy your classic. If you need a drink afterwards you’ll find us at the Bier Keller over on Morrison.”  Pete buried his face into his pillow and returned to sleep.

***

Professor Muldoon loaded a reel onto the projector. Everybody else loitered by the free buffet – including her.

We were in the same Media Studies class, but had barely spoken. In our one, brief conversation she’d told me that Citizen Kane was her ‘absolute, absolute favourite‘. I hadn’t seen it, but of course agreed.

‘Places, everybody,’ said Professor Muldoon.

My breath shortened, and heart thumped as she smiled and took the empty seat next to mine.

The lights went out and the film began.

spf

These words form my entry into this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction challenge.

Friday Fictioneers – Timeshare Tales

ff160915A narrow, rutted track wound its way through the sweltering forest. It seemed like hours since we’d left the main road. With daylight slowly fading, we finally arrived at our journey’s end.

Ahead a tall iron gate cried rusty tears. Grasses, weeds and moss ran wild. My stomach tightened: this wasn’t what I’d expected.

Beyond the gate two low buildings looked long since deserted, and even longer since loved. Clouds of mosquitoes buzzed around my head. A bright yellow snake hissed before slithering into the verdant undergrowth.

‘This doesn’t look like the pictures’ I said.

The salesman smiled. ‘We’ve come this far, Sir – at least have a look inside.’

friday-fictioneers

These words form my entry into Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.

Sunday Photo Fiction – Solitary Confinement

121-09-september-13th-2015The piercing horn of a delivery truck echoed nosily around the early morning street. Up ahead, the single set of lights on 4th and Main had just switched from red to green – but the 30 year-old VW Beetle remained stationary. Despite its age, the car looked showroom new: every inch of chrome polished with obvious love, not a spot of rust could be seen anywhere on the pristine, blue body. Inside Eli Jenkins stared blankly towards the bright, green light – his eyes bloodshot, his face white and gaunt.

‘Hey, you in there, are you gonna move it or will I need to move it for ya?’ said the gruff, bearded man, who’d jumped down from the truck.

Eli ignored him.

The lights changed back to red; the bearded trucker knocked harder on the steamed-up window.

‘Sir, I’ll handle this’ said an approaching police officer.

The young officer opened the car door and slowly removed the keys, before gently leading a confused Eli to the safety of the sidewalk.

‘It’s his wife, Sir – she passed last week and he’s taken it real hard,’ said the officer, as he returned to the scene.

The officer carefully drove Eli’s cherished car to a vacant parking bay across the street; the delivery truck revved and trundled on its way. Meanwhile Eli Jenkins waited patiently on the sidewalk, still expecting his Nellie to appear.

spf

These words form my entry into this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction challenge.

Friday Fictioneers – Summers By The Sea

ff090915The cloudless, mid-morning sky radiates a deepest, richest blue. An excited, black Labrador puppy barks as children play in the sand. Wind surfers rise and fall within the gentle swell. A young couple stroll hand in hand along the water’s edge.

Up and beyond the dunes they’ve gathered, as they always do in early June. Silence and respect as the colours and flags of many nations flutter in the mild Norman breeze. The numbers may be coming smaller with each passing year, but the memories the men share of the summer they spent on the beach will never fade.

friday-fictioneers

These words form my entry into Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.

Sunday Photo Fiction – Crossing the Channel

120-09-september-6th-2015We were camped near an all-night cafe on the outskirts of town. My mother and uncle have spent the last month bartering for our passage. My father is still back home. He says he will join us later. Mother is always sad, but I tell her not to be.

Some of the others say, ‘What’s the worst that can happen? They’ll only send us back. We’ll just try again!’

But they know it can be worse, we all do. Some of the drivers take the money and don’t spare a thought for the cargo. No air, no consideration. They play deaf until safely beyond customs at the other side. Perhaps that way they can convince themselves they really do have nothing but boxes of tomatoes or cherries at their back.

Mother looks tense: she says we are going tonight. There isn’t time to take anything. Not that we brought much with us from home. It’s a long truck, but it better be. There are 30 others waiting when we arrive at the pick-up spot in the early morning light. I’m worried – perhaps we should wait and try another day.

Before I can think any more, my mother’s hand leads me into the dark. The door slams shut behind us.

spf

These words form my entry into this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction challenge.

Friday Fictioneers – Summer in the City

ff020915Loud, lively exchanges between open windows on opposite sides of the street. The alluring smell of Plazinsky’s Coney Dogs wafting up from the corner of Lafayette and 3rd. Kids on the sidewalk in just their underwear, innocently splashing in the puddles and spray of an open hydrant.  That was our summer.

These days the double-glazed windows remain shut tight: rumbling air con units keep their faceless occupants enclosed, cool and safe – the only sound now rising up from the baking August streets, the thumping bass of  passing car stereos.

It’s still the same neighbourhood, but it isn’t the old neighbourhood.

friday-fictioneers

These words form my entry into Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.