#FridayFictioneers Flash. Crash. Pop.

I work on poetry at my other blog, A Full Cup of Tea, and dabble in some short stories and flash fiction here with the FRIDAY FICTIONEERS. Every Friday authors from around the world gather to share their 100-word stories based on the photo prompt hosted by Rochelle Wisoff. We offer support, constructive criticism, and encouragement to each other. Readers are encouraged to comment. My contribution for the week follows the photo prompt below…

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Photo Prompt (C) Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

My husband, I knew the weather called for rain most of the day, so we threw the roast in the crock pot and set about watching the games and some laundry here and there. As the aroma of salty meat began to drift from the kitchen into the living room, the thunder crackled closer.

Flash. Crash. Pop.

Followed by a loud thunderous roar is what we heard just as the TV snapped off along with all the power on the block. The dog ran upstairs, and we all looked at one another in the growing shadows wondering what to do for dinner now.

-103 words based on a true story-

#StoryaDay Wrong Stop

My September Story a Day for the day. I’ve gotten a bit distracted and haven’t kept up. Time to get back on track.

“Ding! Stop garh blar garh,” announced the jumbled robotic voice of the light rail system.

Ty still absorbed in his Thermodynamics book hopped off one station too soon, not paying attention to where he was going. As he headed towards the station exit he walked right into a large man.

“What here you’re going, punk!” The man screamed as he threw Ty’s book onto the tracks.

“No, I need that book to study for my exam tomorrow,” Ty lamented.

“If you don’t get out of my way, nerd, you’re going to be next,” the large man snarled as the next train raced over the book on the tracks.

Once the man hopped on the train and it sped away Ty felt it was safe to hop onto the tracks to retrieve his battered book and head home. He never saw the returning train coming.

 

#StoryaDay Spilled Coffee

My September Story a Day for the day.

Finally the assignment was complete. All night spent typing and retyping as the coffee pot emptied. Now all Shandra needed to do was send her professor a perfectly worded email with the email attached. 

Shandra leaned back to reread her email setting her coffee mug down. The mug plopped down a little too forcefully and spilled cold black coffee all over her laptop as it toppled over. ‘Sizze’…the computer hissed before the screen turned as black as the coffee staining the sheets of notes on the desk. An enite night’s work gone.

#FridayFictioneers Hit the Deck

I work on poetry at my other blog, A Full Cup of Tea, and dabble in some short stories and flash fiction here with the FRIDAY FICTIONEERS. Every Friday authors from around the world gather to share their 100-word stories based on the photo prompt hosted by Rochelle Wisoff. We offer support, constructive criticism, and encouragement to each other. Readers are encouraged to comment. My contribution for the week follows the photo prompt below…

Also counting this as my September Story a Day for the day.

PHOTO PROMPT -© Vijayay Sundaram

PHOTO PROMPT -© Vijaya Sundaram

 

Boom! Pop ! Zizzle! BANG!

A loud bang sounded nearby followed by a red glow and the gleeful voices of children up the street. It was August there should be any more fireworks.

“Hit the deck!” James shouted as he jumped to  the ground and covered his head with the couch pillow. “We’re taking on fire!”

Both he and the dog had taken up sheltered positions behind the recliner before I finished checking out the window. “It’s just the kids up the street setting off the last of their fireworks,” I calmly explained as I turned up the TV.

-98 words-

Veterans, PTSD, and fireworks http://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/military-vets-ptsd-4th-fireworks-can-be-nerve-wracking-n602526

 

#FridayFictioneers Buzzing Terror

I work on poetry at my other blog, A Full Cup of Tea, and dabble in some short stories and flash fiction here with the FRIDAY FICTIONEERS. Every Friday authors from around the world gather to share their 100-word stories based on the photo prompt hosted by Rochelle Wisoff. We offer support, constructive criticism, and encouragement to each other. Readers are encouraged to comment. My contribution for the week follows the photo prompt below…

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Janet Webb

Photo Prompt (C) Janet Webb

 

The glass from the front door shimmered in the midsummer sun.Buzzing terror emerged from the curved cast iron encasing the glass towards the nest resting above the front door. No sale is worth an anaphylactic shock, but Ms.VanDyne has bought thirty cases every year. Maybe I can go to the back door and avoid the buzzing terror; I thought to myself as I gripped my clipboard tightly with a start.

“How many?” I rasped as the EMT stabbed the needle in my leg. “Ms.VanDyne is out of town; a neighbor found you running around screaming in pain,” she replied.

-101 words-

 

 

Monday Miss

Monday morning, I mumbled with my head down as I lugged my bag up to my stop. Mondays were always the worst. I had an essay exam in my the first-period class; it could not get any worse than that I huffed.

As I neared my stop, halfway up the huge hill, I saw the white sedan bouncing out of control towards a group of small children playing in the street. I barely got a ‘hey’ before the car hit the first kid, mowing them all down before it spun to a stop in front of me.

 

#MysteryMonday Sinister Message

Jamie and I headed inside to make a list of suspects. I noticed the light blinking on his answering machine when we reach his office in the back of the house.
“Did you hear the phone ring?” I asked as I pressed the button next to the red pulsating light.
Jamie shook his head no as a mechanical voice commanded from the machine.
“If you want the jewel of your collection returned in one piece it will cost you $3 million dollars. I will send instructions.  Do not involve the authorities and do not try to play games with me or I will have to take one leg at a time. ” (click)
Jamie let out an audible sigh at that last part and I thought he was going to pass out for a moment. Instead we just stood there in the shadows staring at each other.
“This doesn’t sound like someone who wants to sell at an auction, this sounds like someone who may have a personal grudge,” I muttered as I motioned towards the answering machine button once more.

Continued from Missing Spider