Grey – Friday Fictioneers 18th November, 2020.

Colour… I’ve almost forgotten what it is to have colour. We all have. No one knows whether there’s something wrong with our eyes, our brains or whether the entire Earth’s turned black and white with shades of grey.

People say it’s global warming, but I’m sure it’s the Big Bad Wolf, and I’m afraid. Very afraid.

Yet, I haven’t forgotten what it is to see red. Immerse myself in red. Be red. Red hair, red lips, red hearts, red dreams in red skies.

I also remember when the grass was green.

Anything, but black and white with shades of grey.

……

100 words. Photo prompt copyright Sarah Potter.

My response to this week’s prompt has been inspired by the weirdness of living in our current situation with the changes wrought by the coronavirus where wearing masks, social distancing and not hugging your friends has become the new norm. I now see scenes of people interacting normally on TV in scenes filmed in the past, and it’s starting to feel strange. Stop that. You’re not allowed to do that.

Gee , I really hope the vaccine comes along soon, and we can be ourselves again.

This has been a contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Against Time- Friday Fictioneers,14th October, 2020.

The odds of finding his daughter again were fading faster than the setting sun. Finally, she’d been spotted riding her a bike towards the marina. With his heart bursting through his chest, and his legs on the brink of collapse, Jim ran wishing he’d quit smoking 20 years ago. However, he was too late.  All he found was her bike. Jess could be anywhere. Overwrought, he crashed to the pavement, banging his head. Jess popped out of nowhere, cradling her unconscious father in her arms. The risk of losing him far outweighed the argument she barely recalled.

…

97 words. PHOTO PROMPT © C.E.Ayr

Our family has had a few desperate search and rescue missions over the years, not only of humans, but also of dogs. The stress, acute fear and dreadful powers of the imagination take you in their grip and shake the bejesus out of you. You feel like your heart is out there somewhere hiding in the dark until its found. Then, the jubilation is incredible.

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Every week, she posts a photo prompt and we write a response in 100 words or less and share and comment on each others’ efforts. It’s a great opportunity!

Best wishes,

Rowena

An Unlucky Star…Friday Fictioneers.

The doors of Alcatraz slammed shut on Jack’s trip, and the key turned one way and wouldn’t turn back. Indeed, that damned key was jammed in the keyhole. Wouldn’t budge.
Jack was 16 years old and about to launch out of the nest on the school trip of a lifetime… Sydney, Berlin, Munich, Rome, Pompeii., Paris. Then, it all went up in smoke thanks to the coronavirus. Why did it have to happen now? Right at this very moment in time? Gran was right. We were born under an unlucky star.

Now, all he had was his new cap:”Stay Home”.

13th March, 2020

100 Words exactly.

…..

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff-Fields. This week’s featured image was kindly provided by  © Jan Wayne Fields.

This story is more fact than fiction. Just over a month ago, our son was supposed to be flying out of Sydney’s Kingsford-Smith International Airport bound for Berlin on a school history excursion. It was a strange thing sending him on this trip, because my husband and I haven’t been overseas since our honeymoon almost 20 years ago. Of course, it would’ve been nice to go ourselves. However, sometimes you make those sacrifices as parents, the same way mine have done for me through the years. You’d give your kids the shirt off your back at times. Besides, our son’s been through a lot due to my health most of his life and I sort of viewed this trip as a kind of compensation package. Yet, it wasn’t guilt money. It was a gift straight from the heart, especially for that blond curley-haired 3 years old who saw me looking absolutely wrecked in hospital and asked: “Mummy better?”

I felt absolutely shattered when the trip was cancelled. That this very special treasure we’ve all but handed over to him was smashed to smithereens and destroyed.

That was on the 2nd of March when the NSW Health Department banned all out of state travel due to the coronavirus. It was at least a week before the WHO declared a pandemic, and while we were starting to think that the trip might be cancelled, it still seemed a bit premature when the axe fell. However, their decision was on the money. A day or two later, the coronavirus struck Italy with a vengeance, and the rest as they say, was history. We are very thankful that the trip was cancelled and the group wasn’t overseas when this all happened. Indeed, like the rest of us, he’s had to stay home along with mum, dad and his sister. In many ways, he should be thanking his lucky stars and yet…

I guess there a lot us out there wanting to hit the coronavirus over the head with a baseball bat and put it out of action. You can add us to the list, but our concerns go beyond the loss of his trip. We’re very aware of all the people who’ve lost their lives and the grief of their family and friends. Each and every one was loved and cherished. I have acute lung issues and know many people who are equally vulnerable as well as our seniors. We all keep hoping it will all just blow over, but it seems to have a mind of it’s own.

I hope you and yours are well and safe and please take care.

Best wishes,

Rowena

PS I’m sorry I’ve been away for so long. I started researching my Great Great Uncle’s service in France during WWI and the project snowballed into a pending book (which still has a very long way to go!!)

A Short Victory…Friday Fictioneers.

All James ever wanted was to eat a bowl of ice cream. However, James was severely lactose intolerant and ice cream was forbidden. Now a teenager, he was sick of everyone asking why he he had to have soy milk. Why can’t you have ice cream? What’s wrong with you? To compound his troubles, his mother hovered over him like a hawk. However, she wasn’t going to be at camp, and James had forged her signature on the medical forms. Finally, James indulged in his very first bowl of ice cream. All good until he got stuck on the bus.

….

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields. This week’s PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda.

Best wishes,

Rowena

The Perfect Crime…Friday Fictioneers.

As the plane touched down at Sydney Airport, Jamilah knew she was safe and they’d never find her working at Macca’s Woy Woy, wishing the world a “nice day”.

Quiet and unassuming, Jamilah passed right under the radar, barely the shadow of a shadow.

Then, she met Jerome.

Of course, she’d never planned to fall so deeply in love, fusing into one exulted flesh. Giving herself to someone so entirely, that she disappeared, engulfed by the flames.

It wasn’t her fault, or was it? That he got caught in the flames and burned. Yet, now she was a wanted woman.

…..

100 Words.

Sometimes, I like to provide a little background into my flash fiction efforts. However, this week I wanted to leave it open to interpretation and see what comes back. Initially, I was tempted to write about when I was in Europe as 21 year old back in 1992. However,  this story took on a life of its own.

I set this piece in nearby Woy Woy, which is a bit of a backwater with a funny sounding name, as a tribute to Spike Milligan and the Goon Show. Spike Milligan’s parents and younger brother moved to Woy Woy and Spike was occasionally jocularly referred to as “the boy from Woy Woy“.

“Woy Woy”is a corruption of the indigenous term apparently taken from the local Darkinjung Aboriginal people, and reputedly means ‘big lagoon’ or ‘much water’, referring to the deep tidal channel adjacent to the town centre.

“Macca’s” is Australian for McDonald’s and is where many of our local teens find their first job and is a popular after school hangout. I also found myself hanging out at McCafe when our kids were young and the play area with it’s locked high gate was heaven-sent.

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff-Fields, where we write up to 100 words to a provided photo prompt. PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr

Best wishes,

Rowena

 

 

Guilty…Friday Fictioneers.

Leaving court, the victim’s elderly mother was propped up by her two strapping sons. Justice served, the violent ex-husband was guilty as hell.

Yet, was I the only one who questioned the verdict? The only one struck by their own guilt?

The writing was on the wall. So, why didn’t we act?

More than once, I’d seen the tell-tale, heavy makeup. Yet, I never tried to wipe it away. Call a spade a spade. Rather, I observed the code of silence, and touched up my own face.

Peeling off this mask won’t be easy, but I’m changing course.

I will survive.

…..

In parenting circles, you often hear the proverb that it takes a village to raise a child. However, what you hear less often, if at all, is that it takes the village to keep its citizens safe. Moreover, that we as individuals have a responsibility to look out for each other. To step in, especially when a mate is in trouble. However, where the waters start to get more murky, is when it comes to domestic violence. Interfering in someone else’s relationship is seen as a no-go zone. However, it can reach a point where someone’s life might be at risk and we need to step in. Yet, what are we supposed to do? We’re a friend, a brother, sister, parent…not an expert. The one thing I do know, is that we somehow need to find a way, and a quiet place, to ask the next question. Present yourself as a safe place…a harbour in the storm. That at least leaves the door open for someone to turn to us about a whole swag of issues before it’s too late. Don’t just ask if they’re okay. Follow your gut and never give up.

By the way, I’d just like to add that men can also be victims of domestic violence.

It’s not altogether surprising that I addressed this issue tonight. The body of a young woman was found beside the freeway today, when my Mum was driving up to see us. It drove home yet again why we can’t turn a blind eye.

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz 😀 (Thanks, Ted)

Best wishes,

Rowena

 

 

 

Madame Cuisinier – Friday Fictioneers.

It wasn’t a case of who done it. Rather, it was just a question of whether Madame Cuisinier knew that migratory quail were toxic, and would kill her husband.

Of course, nobody wanted to believe, that a Great Grandmother could kill her husband.  Married for over 60 years, they’d been born in Paris during the Occupation. Why not get a divorce? Why go to all the trouble of catching and preparing the quail and concocting that wonderfully fragrant yellow sauce, m’qalli, just to poison him? Why not feed him cake?

Madame Cuisinier wondered why she couldn’t follow through with their plan. Why she couldn’t eat the dish. It would’ve been the perfect end.

…..

My apologies for going a bit over this week, but I couldn’t work out how to shortened this complex tale. I’ve been watching Masterchef lately and couldn’t by-pass a food reference.

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields  PHOTO PROMPT © Jean L. Hays.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Babushka…Friday Fictioneers.

Before Grandma’s body had even turned cold, the aunts, uncles, cousins, and even my own father were all out in the backyard digging, searching for Grandma’s buried treasure. A fanciful storyteller, all my life she’d spun wondrous tales of the Romanov’s and Russian royalty. Yet, that didn’t correlate with the woman working at the Hobart Jam Factory.  Of course, she was Russian. Her accent was straight out of a Bond movie, but Russian royalty? Then, the spade hit metal and Dad unearthed a metal box.  She might not have been Anastasia, but her grandfather had been her killer.

……

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields. PHOTO PROMPT © Connie Gayer. BTW Babushka means grandmother in Russian.

Best wishes,

Rowena

Caution & Risk…Friday Fictioneers.

After much coercion, Ingrid reluctantly agreed to join Klaus on a precarious bus trip through the Peruvian Andes to Huaraz.

Known as “Captain Risk”, Klaus embraced extreme sports, and would jump off a cliff attached to a rubber band. Meanwhile, Ingrid was “Captain Caution”… scared of heights and nauseous on a Ferris wheel.

Yet, she was still a photographer.  As the magnificent condor soared majestically across the canyon, Ingrid saw nothing else. Indeed, she didn’t see the sign until Klaus grabbed her by the wrist, saving her life.

That, she wrote in her journal, was better than a proposal.

99 Words

This has been another contribution to Friday Fictioneers Hosted by Rochelle Wishoff-Fields . This week’s PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg.

 

 

Blow My Candles Out! Carrot Ranch Fiction.

“Happy Birthday, Honey. I’ve checked all the ingredients. Even your cardiologist says it’s fine…gluten free, sugar free, fat free.” Sue tried hard to smile. “So, you can have your cake and eat it too.”

“So, what IS in it?” Richard growled, longing for Nigella’s Nutella Cake instead. As much as he loved his wife and family, he wasn’t sure it was worth coming back for this new life with all its restrictions. He couldn’t even breathe without asking for permission first.

“Carrot cake? I am NOT a horse! I’m off to the pub. You can blow my candles out!”

……

Every week, Charli over at Carrot Ranch hosts a flash fiction challenge where you write 99 words to a prompt.

March 16, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about carrot cake. It can be classic or unusual. Why is there cake? How does it feature in the story. Go where the prompt leads.

Respond by March 20, 2018, to be included in the compilation (published March 21). Rules are here. All writers are welcome!