Photo Copyright: Al Forbes

This story was written for Sunday Photo Fiction–December 4th, 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 counting 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:


Genre: Human Interest Fiction

Word Count: 199 Words


Marilyn stepped out onto the porch to a wonderland of sparkling trees, lawns, and rooftops. Frost was everywhere. It looked like a Christmas card.

She didn’t realize how long she’d been standing  there until numbness began setting in. Stepping back inside, she felt the warmth.

The furnace could heat her on the outside, but there was a kind of numbness it wouldn’t chase off, that of her dad’s death. It had been so sudden.

The hospital let him come home for the holidays. He lay down for a nap after lunch and never woke up. It was so unexpected, such a shock.

She told herself the numbness I feel now will soon leave to be replaced by pain. Her children were young and she had to hide the pain for their sake. She wanted every Christmas to be happy.

Her mother was another matter. She’d be living with them now and had Alzheimer’s. Marilyn had to take one day at a time.

There was still the Christmas shopping and wrapping and the tree to dig out from storage and trim. Her husband wasn’t one to celebrate holidays. It would all be up to her now. Somehow, gradually she’d have to get through it.




Written Act of Kindness Award





2014-12-15-bw-beacham--Chess board and pieces

This is my contribution to Monday’s Finish the Story for this week. Every Monday a new picture prompt is given along with the first sentence to be used for the story. The story is to be written with only 100-150 additional words. I’ve bolded the first sentence given with the picture prompt. The challenge is hosted by Barbara Beacham and the prompt has been supplied by her. The link to read all the other stories is as follows:


Word Count: 150 + 11

THE GAME By P.S. Joshi

“They say that life is a game of chess…”

Every Sunday Ralph Damund went to the Canfield Home For the Elderly to play chess with one of the men guests.

Today he was playing with a man who called himself Chris. He was a big man with a snowy beard and full head of hair to match. Friendly, with a great sense of humor, he seemed more interested in Ralph than the game.

“It’s almost Christmas son,” Chris said. “What is it you want more than anything else?”

Ralph hung his head. “Heck I just lost my job at the garage, and I’ve been helping out my parents and little brother. I just want food and something for the kid. Might be a sad Christmas.”

Chris smiled. “You might be surprised.”

Ralph thought to himself, “Easy for him to say.”

That evening Ralph got a call from his old boss. He wanted Ralph to come back.

Symbol for Monday's Finish the Story



Debris on river banks.

Copyright–Sandra Crook

Well, here we are this week, gathered in a virtual cabin beside a stream in the woods. It would be even prettier if it hadn’t flooded recently, washing debris up onto the shores. It’s peaceful though. We’re here to discuss our original stories for Friday Fictioneers. Our gracious and talented hostess for this gathering is author and artist, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The weekly challenge for this group is to write a story with no more than 100 words. It’s supposed to have a beginning, middle, end, and follow the picture prompt for the week. This week’s prompt was supplied by Sandra Crook. Thanks again Sandra.

The link for all other stories is as follows:


Genre:  Realistic Fiction

Word Count:  100 Words


Luke hadn’t contacted a family member in ages. He was a drinker– had been for years.

After his wife died in the car accident, he lost his will to live.

Sixty and let go from his job when the company downsized, crying inside, he felt like human refuse.

He’d sold the house, but bills and booze ate up the money.  Sleeping in his car, he ached from the bone-chilling cold. His fingers felt numb.

Christmas was coming and he was now freezing and lonely. Should he call his only sister?

He did. He heard the words, “Come home to us Luke.”





Copyright–Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


Here we are once again gathered around the virtual campfire, ready to share our original stories and prove our creativity. This group is the Friday Fictioneers. Our challenge is to write a story with no more than 100 words. It’s supposed to include a beginning, middle, end, and follow the picture prompt supplied for the week. The gracious and talented author and artist, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, is the hostess of this gathering. The prompt this week was also supplied by her. Thanks Rochelle. The link to Friday Fictioneers is as follows:


Genre:  Nonfiction Humor

Word Count:  100 Words


Our son loved Boy Scouts. In his freshman year of high school, he decided to go winter camping at the scout camp nearest us.

It was Christmas holidays, but instead of snow, we had rain in North Carolina–lots of rain. The boys could spend the day inside, but had to camp out at night in their tents.

When we drove to get him and bring him home, everything he had was soaked. Water leaked inside the tent.

“Mom,” he said, “I was reading when I fell asleep. When I woke up, my paperback was floating beside the sleeping bag.”