Friday Fictioneers: 100-Words Story Challenge *Best Kept Secret*

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He kept me hidden. Nobody knew I was here, and I had no clue where “here” was. Nor how much time had passed since I woke up in this room for the first time. Months? Years? My memories were imprisoned to make any sense. I had become a part of these pale walls, the creaking wooden floor and the ceiling, held together by cobwebs in each corner. Everything but the door. His door.

My only connection to the world outside was a tiny window. The dusty glass eye I could reach only tip-toeing to peek at the well-known squares all over again. Recounting them. Hoping for a single soul to appear but there was none. Not until her.

Image courtesy of Dawn Q. Landau

Friday Fictioneers – 100 word stories

Friday Fictioneers: 100-Words Story Challenge *A Touch Of Mystery*

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My fear of dentists, cemented deep down inside during the years of the Soviet childhood, slowly started to disappear with each new visit to his practice. Like tartar from teeth – step by step until there was nothing left to worry about.
Almost hypnotised I looked at his muscular arms in the tone of warm bronze, admiring how gentle and attentive they turned out to be. An experience to be enjoyed.
There was only one thing that made me wonder – my missing panties after every anesthesia. I kept returning to try to solve this mystery one day…

Image courtesy of Ted Strutz

Friday Fictioneers – 100 word stories

Haibun For Carpe Diem *No Pulse*

haibun_carpediem

For some 8 years or so during summer and a touch longer my second home had become Burgas, a city at the Black Sea. Yes, that…almost endearing, a la “feels like home” aroma of freshly cut grass in the yard back in Riga slipped my mind for the mix of Bulgarian spices, almost melting sun and a touch salty air from the sea sink in me instead. Or me to sink in all that.

Do you know what made Burgas really vibrant and alive for me? Opposite to everything described in the travel – guides, of course. There was a path, a flight path right across the top of the house I lived at. A very busy one starting early in the morning and buzzing all the way through the night whole summer (the route, not the house, though…). Hearing them passing over soon to land always brought special feelings – like keeping my finger on the city’ s pulse. Knowing that as long as they were heard, everything was happening, life was going on. Last summer one night something was missing. Seagulls were brawling till they just got bored of themselves. Whispering leaves of trees in front of the house were the same – holding their breath for a moment from time to time and then out of the blue trying to imitate a soft summer rain (that i’ve often fallen for rushing out on the terrace and realizing – no, not a single drop of rain). A juicy female alto from some beach bar melted in the pitch black night – „I will survive, oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I’ll stay alive…” was as convincing as always. At least to me, not necessarily to the Renaissance-ish ensemble of cicadas. Lonely steps and echoing sounds of flip flops on one end of the path and bubbly giggling – further ahead on another. Yet something was missing. Strongly. That night and all day long. City was missing its pulse. Because of the bomb explosion the day before in the Burgas Airport it was closed and all the routes were redirected to Varna. I heard just one plane that evening (most probably the one bringing “the 7 wise men” of Bulgarian government back to Sofia) and though I hoped for more, all I got was silence. Comatose. That lasted for a couple of days before we got…the pulse back. Good things come to those who wait…like there was any other choice…

floating memories
dark cloud over sunflower fields
life is fragile

Carpe Diem Haiku

Friday Fictioneers: 100-words Story Challenge – The Fence

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Everything was up to me now.
“You’ll know which one it is when you lay eyes on it.” He’d said urgently, “we had to bury them somewhere quickly that was recently dug.”
The conversation was cut: ”The caller you are trying to reach…”
I had to do it today or it might be too late. The heist had gone well, but they were still in hiding.
Biting my nails, I scanned the house ads in the dusty window…one, another…until YES! I couldn’t stop smiling…he knew how much I hated those clinically white fences…
“Could you prepare the sales documents?”
“Now ma’am?”
“Now! Immediately!”

Image courtesy of Janet Webb

Friday Fictioneers – 100 word stories

Friday Fictioneers: 100-words Story Challenge – You Can Leave Your Hat On

friday_fictioneers

“Haven’ t I left my wallet here?”
I turned around thinking: “Couldn’ t you really come up with a better pick-up line for a TAX-FREE shop girl?!” but he did look confused. AND handsome. “Mmm, the uniform…”
“Black leather…with a zipper in front…”
I started looking all over the cash register and could already feel those images slowly forming in my mind – a cup of coffee followed by a hotel room and me in the bed with just his pilot hat on all ready to…
“Hello? You did?! You’ re a star, babe!” He put his mobile in the pocket, winked and was gone.

Image courtesy of Rich Voza

Friday Fictioneers – 100 word stories

Friday Fictioneers: 100-words Story Challenge

picture_copyright-claire-fullerCopyright – Claire Fuller

“No…You can’ t do this!”
She was not herself anymore. His gentle model, his muse with that shy smile had burst in rage.
“How could you…it’ s your face, YOURS! After putting up with your model’s “accidental” touches behind me…and now THIS!”
He thought she would be happy. He thought she would finally see…
“You can’ t bring it there tomorrow!”
“But it’ s my central piece…” he started, hoping she would understand…
“NO!”
Her eyes, always so warm, were like ice picks, relentless.
“But why…”
“Curator of your exhibition – my husband! How for goodness sake will I explain THIS?!”

Friday Fictioneers – 100 word stories