Friday Fictioneers – Debts Paid

Photo supplied by Douglas M MacIlroy

Happy Friday Fictioneers day, AKA Wednesday! Hope you are all surviving lockdown, If you want to submit your own 100 word story based on the photograph, or see others, just follow this link

“A little something to wet your beak on.”

Crack.

“Glad to see you survived your meeting with Sparrowhawk,” said Tawny Owl, placing Finch’s drink on the bar. “He doesn’t forgive debtors easily.”

Finch didn’t reply, memories of last night circulating like a jerky film reel.

Crack.

“I have the perfect job for a little birdie like you,” Sparrowhawk had said. “A message to deliver.”

At the described tree, Finch heaved to dislodge and topple the stranger’s nest. Only then did he hear.

Crack.

Glimpses of broken shell, scattered.

Minutes later, Finch trembled under Sparrowhawk’s gaze, “Message delivered.”

Friday Fictioneers -An Ordinary Teenage Disorder

 

Photo Courtesy of Jean L Hayes

Hi all. This week was a struggle and I nearly gave up, but here is my entry for Friday Fictioneers

Only two days until prom, and decorating is underway.

Molten glue drips onto my finger, welding another button to my skin instead of the heart shaped wire frame.

Alex glances over and I quickly turn my head away, feeling every blood vessel in my cheeks dilate.

God, what is wrong with me? A question all my friends must be asking as they avoid me, like love sickness might be catching.  It’s torture, this guessing game of what’s possible and what’s likely and what I want and what will actually happen.

Nothing is happening, I think, as he steps towards me.

 

 

Friday Fictioneers – Keeping it For a Reason

PHOTO PROMPT © Claire Fuller

Copyright – Claire Fuller

Welcome to another wonderful Friday Fictioneers. This picture really called out fantasy to me, but I’ve written a few of those lately and wanted to do something different. Not sure it really worked, but I’m on limited time today. If you want to take part and read other stories, please follow the link.

James looked up from his phone, and his daughter was nowhere to be seen.

“Elise?” His voice filtered through the trees either side of the cycleway. A faltering heartbeat later, she tumbled out from between the foliage, recklessly spinning her schoolbag around her wrist.

“Dad, can you keep this safe for me?” She pressed a thumb sized stone into his palm.

“What do you want this for?” he asked, annoyed.

She shrugged before turning and running ahead to the cycleway exit.

“I’m not keeping it for no reason!”

He looked at the stone, sighed, and slipped it in his pocket.

Sunday Photo Fiction – Pumpkin Spice Latte

124 10 October 4th 2015

Copyright – Al Forbes

Another round of Sunday Photo Fiction, a bit late this time, and also a little longer. Unlike my protagonist, I have no issue with pretentious sugary coffee, and am seriously craving one after writing this piece. If you’d like to write a 150-200 word story of your own based on the photo prompt, click the link and you’ll find Al’s instructions.

Only a quarter of my coffee remains, but it doesn’t mean anything. These syrupy froths go down quick, there’s still time for me to stare out of the rain-flecked window, still time for me to be out of the cold. I’m not going to keep checking the time. I’ll leave when it feels right.

People complain about winter, but it’s the inevitability of autumn that I hate. When the short nights are here, you’re used to them. When they’re getting shorter, you feel cheated. The fall fanatics can keep their pretty dying leaves and their sugary spiced lattes. I’ll sit here and reminisce about summer.

It was good this year. I met someone.

“I love autumn,” he told me. Foam was spilling out over the top of his Starbucks mug. I’d ordered the same coffee as him, maybe as a last ditch attempt to pretend we had something in common. “Everything starts to change. And change can be something that we need, sometimes.”

Most of his drink is still left on the table next to me. It’s growing more tepid by the second, and the cream is starting to look more like scum. Time does terrible things to people and coffee alike.