Friday Fictioneers - "What's That?"

After a month-long hiatus, I checked back with the Friday Fictioneers and was delighted with this week's photo prompt. Read my 100-word story below the photo and enjoy others' flash fiction at http://rochellewisofffields.com

WHAT’S THAT?

By Beth Carter

Tommy kicked a pebble down a dusty road near the mostly boarded-up town square. When will this boring vacation be over?

“Why can’t we go to Disneyland?”

“It’s more important to visit your grandparents,” said Tommy’s father.

As Tommy walked in step with his shadow, he ran into a large metal box with a cord.

“What’s that?”

“A telephone.”

Tommy stared at his dad’s iPhone. “Were people giants? As big as dinosaurs?”

His dad ruffled Tommy’s hair. “No, son, technology has improved.”

Tommy instinctively reached into the coin dispenser and pulled out a shiny quarter.

“Some things never change."

Friday Fictioneers: Sweet Tooth

It's Friday Fictioneer Day and I'm back on board! The goal is to write a flash fiction story using just 100 words based on a photo prompt provided by Madison Woods http://madison-woods.com/ Please give it a try and leave a link to your blog.

SWEET TOOTH

By Beth Carter

Edgar perched atop a barren branch, scouting the open field. His siblings, Lenore and Poe, had long flown the nest in search of tasty carrion.

Trying to wrinkle his beak in disgust, Edgar couldn’t bear to think about that maggot-infested decaying flesh. Lenore and Poe called him a food snob. So be it. Carrion is overrated and Edgar has a sweet tooth.

Spotting a fluffy marshmallow on a graham cracker covered with gooey chocolate, Edgar got excited and flapped his wings. Dipping down, he chomped the sweet confection whole. Immediately, he gagged, choked, and fell over dead. No more marshmallows. Nevermore.

Friday Fictioneers: Shell Shocked

The hard bench must have made a permanent indentation by now. I glanced at the tunnel that seemingly led to nowhere—or anywhere. I wanted to walk inside and escape.

I replayed our conversation. At the guardrail, Jonathan had slowed to a crawl. “We need to talk.”

Four words no one wants to hear.

“It’s over. We’re over.”

I stiffened, staring at my emerald-cut diamond. Tears stung my eyes. I couldn’t speak.

“I’ve met someone else.”

My heart plunged. Anger surged. I grabbed the handle. “Stop the car.” I flung the door open and glared at my fiancé. “What's her name?

Jonathan stared ahead. “Mark.”

Tell Me A Story

My writer friend, Jan Marler Morrill, has her own version of show and tell every Tuesday. She provides an intriguing photo and written prompt. Writers are encouraged to submit a story based on these prompts. The link is http://jansthoughtsovercoffee.blogspot.com/2012/01/telling-tuesdays-13112-she-felt-sick.html?showComment=1328042935718#c833707139701219071

Check out her blog to see this week's prompt based on the restless sea which, by several accounts, is causing seasickness, morning sickness and wrecking havoc in general. Here's my story:

Sylvia grabbed the slippery gold railing in an attempt to steady herself. The boat bobbed like a cork in the ocean. She lost her footing on the wet planks and hot coffee sloshed through her white crocheted cover-up and onto her new peach bikini. Damn! That’s hot. She jumped back, steadied her cup and attempted to wipe her cover-up with her hand.

The creaking cabinet doors in the galley alerted her that someone was up. The big-bellied captain groused through the cupboard and sang an Irish jig, seemingly unconcerned about the weather. Tina, the toned, young first mate bent over (yet again) except not in front of Peter’s face this time. Tina grabbed the railing with one hand while the wind caught a basket of croissants. They skittered across the deck and over the side—now fish food.      

Seriously? We’re going to eat at a time like this? The salt water stung Sylvia’s eyes and her now-wet bangs stuck to her forehead. Why Peter thought it was a good idea to charter a small boat during hurricane season was beyond her. She had done the prerequisite spray tanning and had gotten a mani and pedi. But his sudden interest in chartering a boat came out of Neverland.

The restless, dark swells grew taller and angry white caps lapped the boat in every direction. Sylvia’s stomach did back flips. How could Peter sleep through this roller coaster? She decided to awaken him and took one last sip of the now-cold coffee. She covered her eyes with her hand and looked in every direction. The restless sea was far and wide. Before Sylvia turned to go downstairs, strong fingers grabbed her upper arms and shoved her overboard.
 
That's it. A huge thanks to Jan who has provided at least three prompts this month that I plan to use for my JANO novel. Now, it's your turn. Tell me a story and please copy it and add it to Jan's blog as well. Happy sailing!