THE DANGEROUS BEACH

 

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Photo Copyright: Lucy Fridkin

Here we are again another week. We’ve gathered this week at a beach to discuss our original stories. This is the Friday Fictioneers group. Our hostess for the gathering is the talented and gracious author and artist, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The challenge for each of us this week and every week is to write a story with no more than 100 words, not counting the title. It’s supposed to have a beginning, middle, end, and follow the picture prompt for the week. This week’s prompt was provided by Lucy Fridkin, Rochelle’s friend since kindergarten. Thanks, Lucy.

To read the other stories by group members, just click on the link given below, then on the little blue frog in the blue box.

The link for this week’s stories is as follows:

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2016/12/07/9-december-2016/

Genre: Fantasy Fiction

Word Count: 100 Words

THE DANGEROUS BEACH by P.S. Joshi

Brad was enjoying his vacation on a small island off the South American coast. He walked down to the beach one morning and was surprised to find a local angler standing and examining some marks in the sand.

“Senor, if I were you I’d go back to the bungalows. It’s dangerous here today.”

Brad noticed the markings. There were drag marks as though a large fish had been pulled in. There were also handprints larger than normal.

“Why is it unsafe? What’s been here?”

The man turned to him and said, “Amazon mermaids.”

Just then, a spear barely missed them.

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OLD MAN’S STORY

 

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Photo Copyright: Al Forbes

This story was written for Sunday Photo Fiction–November 13th, 2016.  Each week the host, Al Forbes, provides a picture prompt. The challenge for each member of the group is to write an original story or poem with no more than 200 words, not including the title and inspired by the prompt.

To read the other stories written by group members, just click on the link below, then on the little blue frog in the blue box.

The link to the other stories this week is as follows:

https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2016/11/13/sunday-photo-fiction-november-13th-2016/

Genre: Speculative Fiction

Word Count: 200 Words

OLD MAN’S STORY by P.S. Joshi

It had been a boring evening at the Sea Lanes Yacht Club. My wife was enjoying herself gabbing to friends but I was bored.

I decided to stroll down to the beach and get some fresh air. There was a breeze and I could smell the salt. This was my element, not the stuffy club atmosphere.

It wasn’t quite dark yet. I looked toward the horizon and saw a large ship. It looked like a battleship but how could it be? This was 1980.

An old man came strolling down to join me.

“You watchin’ for ships? Didn’t expect to see that battleship didja'”

I turned toward him. “You mean to tell me that is a battleship? Where on earth did it come from? Is it a tourist attraction?”

“No sir, no sir. That’s the Newport. It shows up sometimes on nights like this. Went down in 1918 on its way back from France. Troop carrier it was. A torpedo hit it and it limped toward New York but never made it. Some men were lost.”

A cold chill swept through me. I studied him. “Are you trying to tell me that’s a ghost ship?”

“Ain’t tryin’. I’m just tellin.'”

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THE LETTER

 

Pen and paper--Al Forbes

This story was written for Sunday Photo Fiction–July 17th, 2016. Each week the host, Al Forbes, provides a picture prompt. The challenge for each member of the group is to write an original story or poem with no more than 200 words, not including the title and inspired by the prompt.

To read the other stories written by group members, just click on the link below, then on the little blue frog in the blue box.

The link to the other stories this week is as follows:

https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2016/07/17/sunday-photo-fiction-july-17th-2016/

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 200 Words

 THE LETTER by P.S. Joshi

Constance was cleaning out her parent’s attic. Her mother had told her to get things not worth keeping ready to go to the thrift shop.

In her grandmother’s old trunk she found a letter and picture her grandfather had sent back to her during WWII. He’d lost his life on D-Day while landing on the beach in France.

“My dearest Florence,” it began, “I’m writing this before I get on board the landing craft. The chaplain has given us a blessing as some of us may not live through this. I’ll give him the letter so he can post it when possible. Some of the other guys are doing the same.

“This may be the last chance I have to tell you how much I love you. I’ve kept your picture with me. I’ll also give that to the chaplain to enclose in the letter if I don’t make it. You’ll see how creased it’s become from my carrying it with me. It made me feel like you were always there with me.

“Take care of our little girl and tell her about me. I wish I could have seen her just once.

All my love, Jack”

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THE SHORE AND THE SEA

 

Water and shoreline

Copyright: Barbara W. Beacham

This is my weekly contribution to Monday’s Finish the Story, hosted by Barbara W. Beacham. Every Monday, Barbara supplies a new picture prompt along with the first sentence for the story. The original story to be written should have only 100 to 150 additional words. I’ve bolded the first sentence given with the picture prompt. Be sure to click on the little blue frog in the blue box, after clicking on the link, to read the other stories.

The link for all the other stories is as follows:

https://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2015/05/11/mondays-finish-the-story-may-11th-17th-2015/

Genre: Speculative Fiction

Word Count: 5+9+150=164 Words

THE SHORE AND THE SEA by P.S. Joshi

Arriving at the beach, she reflected on her life. Marian had always thought of the shore as life and the sea as eternity.

Her daughter brought her today for a beach outing, “…to get you out of the house,” she’d said.

Betty opened the immense, multicolored umbrella, placing first a blanket, then two folding chairs under it. “You can sit here, Mom, while I go for a swim,” she said.

Marian leaned back and closed her eyes. She and George brought the two kids here many weekends in the past. She couldn’t stay in the sun long now, so didn’t swim.

It had been ten years since George died. Sometimes it seemed less.

When she opened her eyes, she thought she saw him walking up the beach. He came to her and said, “Let’s go Marian.”

She took his hand as it seemed so natural.

When Betty came from the water, one look told her Marian was at peace.

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