ONE DAY A PRINCE

 

Grappling iron--Al Forges--august-7th-2016

Photo Copyright: Al Forbes

This story was written for Sunday Photo Fiction–August 7th, 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/2016/08/07/sunday-photo-fiction-august-7th-2016/

Genre: Humor Fiction

Word Count: 200 Words

SOME DAY A PRINCE by P.S. Joshi

Laura always told her friends, “One day a prince will come and take me to his castle.”

“Sure,” they said. “we all dream about that.” They would then walk away laughing.

One night she heard something on her balcony–yes she had one. Don’t laugh.

She opened the doors and looked out. There was a grappling hook fastened to her balcony railing. A long rope led up to a hot air balloon floating overhead.

A handsome prince was sliding down the attached rope. She pinched herself, but she wasn’t sleeping.

“Hello, Laura,” he said as he reached the end of his rope. “I’ve finally shown up.”

“Where have you been?” she asked frowning. “You can’t believe how many times my friends have laughed at me.”

His bottom lip stuck out. He asked, “Aren’t you glad to see me? I’ve come to take you to my castle to wed you. Can you cook?”

“What else do you want me to do?” she asked.

“Well, there’s the spring cleaning and providing me with heirs–at least five.”

“You’re no bargain. I’ll marry the boy next door. He’s really nice.”

“Good, be that way,” he said and climbed back up.

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THE MEMORY

 

Ice-on-the-window--Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Photo Copyright: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Here we all are for another week. Today we’re standing on the virtual porch of an old Victorian house. There’s a beautiful virtual frosted window in the door. Our hostess for this weekly gathering is the talented and gracious author and artist, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. We’re the Friday Fictioneers group. Our challenge this week and every week is to write an original story with no more than 100 words not including the title. It’s supposed to have a beginning, middle, end, and follow the picture prompt for the week. This week’s prompt was requested by Kent Colby and supplied by Rochelle herself. Thanks, Kent, and Rochelle.

To read the other stories by the 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/2016/06/29/1-july-2016/

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 100 Words

THE MEMORY by P.S. Joshi

Many nights 10-year-old Maggie Wright had a recurring dream. She saw a frosted window in a Victorian door. she had no idea where the house was.

There were holes in her memory. She’d gone to live with her grandmother in Boston when she was three years old and couldn’t remember her parents.

She’d told her grandmother about the dream but the old woman just said, “Some things are better left alone.”

One night she opened the door in her dream. On the floor were the bodies of a man and woman. They’d been shot. Then she remembered.

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THE DREAM

 

Two buffalo nickles-2015-barbara-w-beacham

Photo Copyright: Barbara W. Beacham

This is my contribution this week 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.

To read the other stories written by group members, be sure to click first on the link given, and then on the little blue frog in the blue box. The link for all other stories is as follows:

https://mondaysfinishthestory.wordpress.com/2015/11/02/mondays-finish-the-story-nov-2nd-2015/

Genre: Realistic Fiction

Word Count: 2+12+150=164 Words

THE DREAM by P.S. Joshi

She lived a life that some would describe as being on edge.

Beth’s pay didn’t always meet her needs, and her nerves were always on edge.

It was the terrible nightmare, always the same one. She’d wake up trembling in a cold sweat.

She was in a dark forest. Then there would be the terrible, air-piercing scream nearby. She found herself running, trying to hide. There were sounds of wild animals. At least it seemed like animals.

Knowing she was adopted at age three, she could remember nothing before then.

Finally, searching through microfilm of newspapers for the year she turned three, one headline left her shaken:

UNIDENTIFIED CHILD FOUND IN FOREST

A young child, about age three, was found in the forest east of Lockton. Nearby was the body of a young woman, thought to be the mother.

The child, now in county care, is closely guarded since a man claiming to be her father was found not to be related.

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THE LONG WALK

 

c2a9tales_from_the_motherland (1)

Copyright–Dawn Quyle Landau

 

Here we are once more taking a virtual trip to far places and strange venues with our guide, the gracious and talented author and artist, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. We’re sharing our original stories for the weekly trip of 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 prompt this week is supplied by Dawn Q. Landau. Thanks Dawn.

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2014/09/17/19-september-2014/

Genre:  Humor Fiction

Word Count:  100 Words

THE LONG WALK By P.S. Joshi

John was a nice guy, but he had two big faults, telling tall tales and overeating.

His wife Marg had enough. One night she found him gorging at midnight. She came up behind him and said, “John.”

He jumped about a foot. “Would you believe–and it’s a fact–would you believe I had this strange dream where I was walking across a long, wide terrace? I walked and walked. I woke up to find myself sitting here eating in the kitchen.”

She shook her head, trying not to laugh. “No,” she said. “I don’t believe a word of it.”

 

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