It’s Friday Fictioneers time and the prompt this week is the picture below. Here is my 100 word piece of fiction:
The harsh metal feels cold as I grip my fingers through the mesh of the shaft door, awaiting my moment of truth. My anxiousness rises with the sound of the approaching elevator and the culmination of all my misgivings.
As the doors open, I step inside the grim interior; graffiti depictions of angels and demons scrawled across the walls.
The deep-throated words “going down” echo in the enclosed space and my eyes sting from the soaring heat.
I throw myself forward and hopelessly claw at the closing doors, one last attempt at escape before I begin my fateful descent.
It’s time for Friday fictioneers again, here’s my 100 word fictional piece prompted by the picture above:
Placing her flip flop clad foot onto the platoon, Tara stepped out of the fishing boat and sighed at the beautiful landscape in front of her.
‘Your bag Ma’am. Have a safe stay,’ the tanned skipper drawled.
Turning to him, she grabbed her bag, giving him a knowing nod in thanks. Sick of everyone telling her what to do, she was looking forward to a summer working on the resort. Her mum couldn’t control her here. Oppressive bitch can go to hell! She laughed – her mum would be going ape by now.
They had been walking all day and Joe’s legs were weary, every step feeling like a lead weight was tied to his feet. He looked over to Carl, his sun reddened skin peering out above his bearded chin.
‘Do you think it’s much further?’ Joe asked.
‘It should be round this corner.’
They had been searching all week for the camp – in need of refuge from the arid landscape. As they approached the final bend, hope and relief was replaced with defeat and fear. The never-ending, harsh landscape stretched out in front of them, still no sign of the camp they so desperately seeked.
It’s Friday Fictioneers time of the week. A chance to write a 100 word prompted story and this week’s prompt is:
Adrien gripped the steering wheel of the tractor as he maneuvered the narrow streets. This was the last job of the day and the worst, the streets busy with village traffic. It was a tight fit and the rear tyre clipped the curb as he rounded the corner, a heavy thump sounding from behind. The white Renault that was following, furiously beeped it’s horn. ‘Oui, Oui! …..’ Adrien called frustrated from the drivers window. Climbing down from the cab, he caught sight of the pile of hay now in the middle of the road. Il pourrait être une longue nuit!
The ringing is muffled by the damp moss forming in the cracks of the stone. I wait for the screams to start.
I hear the sound of footsteps, a heavy bolt scratching against metal…then light erupts in. I am frozen with fear, not daring to move. A dark shadow enters the doorway and a bowl of congealed food is thrown onto the floor. Not a word is spoken and just as quickly he is gone.
The screams start. They make my blood curdle. I let out a sigh of relief …. I will hear the bell ring again.
Suzanne lifted the glass of sangria to her crimson lips and took a lingering sip. As she savoured the taste, she looked at the painting and smiled to herself. She couldn’t really understand what the fuss was about. If she was honest, she actually thought the portrait was quite ugly. She always had preferred the classics. But who was she to argue with a huge pay-check? Her buyer had requested it and he was paying a six-figure sum.
She rubbed the back of her neck, relishing the satisfaction she always felt after a job. The pure elation of outsmarting everyone.
My general philosophy in life is, why say something in 10 words when you can use 100!!!! To say I have a tendency to waffle might be an understatement! I think my manager cringes with horror every time I send him something to review at work. Word counts have even become a bit of a running joke! 🙂
That’s why I was quite intrigued by the Friday Fictioneers writing challenge. To write a piece of fiction, based on the ‘picture for the week’, in … get this … less than 100 words! 🙂 Never one to shy away from a challenge …. here it is ….
Lost but not forgotten
I never noticed the lack of lamps until I found the stash in the attic. As I sit down on the snuff stained sofa, dad walks in, carrying a mug.
‘Here you go love. Thought you could do with a cuppa,’ he says.
Dad sighs and looks over at the lamps, now piled up in the corner of the lounge. Tears fill his eyes. It’s been a week since we had the call from the hospital. I reassuringly touch him on the knee. I know he must miss mum. Trying to lighten the mood a little, I ask, ‘what’s with the lamps?’
He smiles wistfully. ‘Well that’s a funny story …’
Time for some goal setting ….. can I do all 101 challenges in 1001 days?