Beware the Full Moon


Photo Copyright: J.Hardy Carroll

Here we are again and this week we’re gathered under an overhead window. We’ve come together to discuss our original stories for the week. This is the Friday Fictioneer’s 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 be inspired by the picture prompt for the week. This week’s prompt was provided by J.Hardy Carroll. Thanks, J.Hardy. To read the other stories by group members, just click on the link below, then on the smiling frog. Next, follow the given directions.

20 September 2019

Genre: Horror Fiction

Word Count: 97 Words

Beware the Full Moon By P.S. Joshi


Frank was thrilled. His younger brother Bill was coming to live with him. Their mother had written the boy was hard to manage and asked if he would take him for a while.

When he met Bill’s bus, he was shocked at how thin and drawn the boy looked.

That night Frank slept soundly as a full moon beamed through the skylight of the apartment. A dark figure crept out the door. Minutes later a high-pitched howl pierced the air.

A day later the newspaper printed the blaring headline,








fence, pasture & fog

Copyright–Erin Leary

Again it’s time for the new Friday Fictioneers’ weekly story.  This weekly challenge is to write a story with no more than 100 words. It’s to have a beginning, middle, and end and follow the pricture prompt given for that week. The hostess for this challenge is the ever gracious and talented author Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. This week the prompt is a photo supplied by Erin Leary. Thanks Erin.

Genre:  Horror Fiction


Near this stream the bloodied body of the stranger was found, throat torn open. Only an outsider would dare wander here at night. Mist rose from the chilled water but the full moon still cast its relentless light upon the scene.

“Wolf,” they said. But they knew; they always knew. Heavy bolts were thrown and thick shutters fastened with strong latches every night.

She was the exception and wandered alone along the bank, fearing nothing but the glowing  sphere. She abruptly thrust her grizzled muzzle skyward and a tremendous howl rent the air, freezing the villagers’ blood. “Werewolf!” it warned.