Friday Fictioneers: Trouble Abroad
I should’ve known, Savannah thought as she sat in the cold metal chair of a police interrogation room. She’s thirteen but appears mature for her age.
I should’ve known, Savannah thought as she sat in the cold metal chair of a police interrogation room. She’s thirteen but appears mature for her age.
“What’s with all the gingerbread cookies?” May’s jaw dropped at the sight of the trays of badly decorated gingerbread cookies on the kitchen counter.
Alright, let’s see… Winter’s night, ground full of snow, she meets him, keels over and dies. Oh wait, he meets her, faints in her arms and dies??? Ah, what’s wrong with me and death? I dream about death… I write about death… Wait, have I been experiencing bouts of existential crises? Have I? No!!! Let’s…
Approaching the Mystical Tree, she whispered, “Grandfather?” Slowly, a white, bony hand emerges. “You’ve come, child.” “Yes and I brought nourishment.” She handed him the bags of blood. Thirstily, he devoured bag upon bag. “I wish I brought more.” “You did good, child. I will be satiated for days. Besides, it isn’t as though I…
I am the epitome of true love. For almost 25 years, he had dominated my dreams. Whenever I closed my eyes, I could see him in my dreams. Whenever I looked up at the stars, his face would be the only one I saw.
With her picture in hand, he gave the red building before him a disapproving gaze. After a year of waiting, he finally received the great news his PI has located his MIA daughter.
All his life, he had known only one thing – go big or go home. In elementary school, he created the biggest piece of artwork, folded the largest paper crane, and even attempted to bring his teacher the largest gift he could find. Fast forward, he graduated college with a degree in fine arts and…
March 2020
Re-reading my sister, Bethany’s Will, I sighed, “My dear sister, you shall be the death of me.”
She opened her eyes and sat up. Where am I? What is this place? She wondered as she looked out the window of the house. The house was surrounded by wheat fields.
“Crap, we’re stuck.” Em said as she dusted off her dress. A few minutes before, she and her husband, George, leapt from her granddad’s beloved train aka time machine as it hurdled 88-miles-per-hour toward what used to be a ravine.
“Honey!” I shout and immediately, I can hear a pair of big feet padding down the corridor to outside the bathroom door.
Come on, announce the winner already!
Sometimes, I think there’re more interesting things happening behind the camera than in front.
The drawing was blinding. I couldn’t even touch it, let alone look at it. This is what I spent $500 for? I was expecting scandalizing photographs, detailing all those mysterious hours my husband has spent away on his so-called “work trips”. I was definitely not expecting this.
“Re…lax,” I inhale and exhale, dragging the word, doing everything to calm the tension in my body. I shouldn’t be this nervous. Come on, I’m performing to a crowd on Zoom, not some important figure.
I stood there, staring at my husband’s desk. I should’ve known it’d be too good to be true. Neat-freaks and scatterbrains aren’t opposites. They don’t attract. They repel.
“What cha doin’?” George asks.
Mr. C stares at the sign and sighs. Still gone as it has been for 50 years. He’s stranded in this desolate place as his brain kept wandering back to that fateful night. What went wrong? “I triple-checked that spirit-meter, didn’t I?” He muttered.
“They call this the “Scrooge Farm”. Instead of Christmas decoration each year, around Christmas, there would be scarecrows dressed in rags and sandbags for heads popping up in random places ’round the farm. Now, no one has ever seen the owner as there’s no house on the hundred-acre property. “
Tossing his jacket onto the table, he sat down and sighed. He couldn’t believe it. Another pandemic. I’m 109, how many more events do I need to go through?
Great, fantastique, awesome, super. Just how many more different ways can I exaggerate this situation? I don’t know what gave anyone the idea or the impression I can single-handedly put together a Thanksgiving dinner in 4 hours. 4 HOURS!!! There I was, slaving away in the kitchen – turkey, vegetables, and stuffing in the oven,…
Sitting on this park bench, I am supposed to feel cold but somehow, I feel nothing except exhaustion and resignation.