Photo Copyright: J. Hardy Carroll

Here we are this week gathered in an amusement park sitting in a picnic area. We’ve gathered to discuss our original stories for the week. 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, and anyone who would like to join 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 given below, then on the little blue frog in the blue box.

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

19 January 2018

Genre: Speculative Fiction

Word Count: 100 Words


It’s always the same–the amusement park by myself surrounded by loud music and food smells; screaming, laughing, crying, singing, chanting people; clanking and creaking machinery.

There’s Randy, my boyfriend with Beth, my best friend. Feeling both angry and ill, I follow them onto the roller coaster, sitting directly behind them, making sure they don’t see me.

At the highest point, I lean forward, grab Beth’s ponytail, and unclick her safety belt. Randy tries to stop me but I, not Beth plummet downward. Now I’m being punished by having to relive it again and again.




















Street light--Al Forbes--August-21st-2016

Photo Copyright: Al Forbes

This story was written for Sunday Photo Fiction–August 21st, 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.

I’m sorry I missed the story last week. I was ill with a head cold. I’m feeling much better now.

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: Historical Fiction

Word Count: 199 Words


Laura had long been meeting her beau, John, in the park. They’d played there as children. But then her father told her not to see John again. He’d chosen someone more suitable for her.

Her heart broke as she told John at their last meeting. The man her father had chosen was much older. She told John she’d be unhappy for the rest of her life. He told her his heart was broken also.

There was a dreadful influenza epidemic in the village. Many were dying. Laura’s father hired a nurse to take care of her. Money wasn’t a worry. Laura remembered little of what happened after she became ill. She did hear her father’s choice for a husband had died.

Well, she thought, I’m sorry he died, but now I won’t have to marry him. As the hours passed, she wondered about John. Her father would never mention him. She didn’t dare ask.

Now here she was once more beneath the same park lamp. John came to her and they embraced.

“Oh John,” she said, “Now we’re together forever.”

Her father stood and cried as her coffin was lowered into the ground near John’s grave.




Written Act of Kindness Award





Park band shelter

Copyright: David Stewart

Here we are back for another week, gathered in a virtual park in a small town on an unusually warm day for late March. We’re here for another meeting of the Friday Fictioneers to discuss our original stories for the week. Our hostess for this gathering is the gracious and talented author and artist, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The 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 picture was supplied by David Stewart. Thanks, David. To read the other stories from group members, just follow the link provided below, and click on the little blue frog in the blue box.

The link for the other stories is as follows:

Just a word extra–I recently, for a short time, had some of my Inbox mail going into Trash, if anyone wants to check their Trash as-well-as their Spam. I’ve also had it go into Spam in the past.

Genre: Humor Fiction

Word Count: 100 Words


You know how you have these romantic memories about your youth? I had them until I went back for a visit to the town where I grew up.

The old park bandstand looked the same as when Rene Shimhalt and I walked there hand-in-hand, and I gave her her first kiss. At least, I thought so.

When talking to my best friend, Ernie, I found that not only he, but several other guys had beaten me to it.

Of course, that’s the past now since Rene and her husband, Bart, just celebrated their Tenth Wedding Anniversary and have three kids.




Written  Act of Kindness Award

Clock Near the Park by P.S. Joshi


This is my story for February Storybook Corner hosted by Adam Ickes. It’s a monthly flash fiction challenge where a prompt is given to inspire a story  from 300 to 500 words in length based on the prompt. A new prompt is given the 21st of each month.


My parents and I live in the town of Franklyn, Indiana, in the downstairs apartment of an old building on Park Street. Nothing  exciting happens here, especially on this street. The most exciting things have been reports of a wolf on the edge of town where old man Travis’ land starts.

Bill Burke, the local handyman, swore he saw a small wolf but he tells a lot of fake stories, so few believe him. Some others have said they heard one howling, but most don’t believe that either.

It’s Wednesday, almost 10:20 AM, of a sweltering day in the middle of summer. The worst thing is our computer is broke. I’ve read all my books and it’s too hot to walk to the library.

I grabbed one of my comic books from a box in my room and plopped on the couch in front of the large living room window. Dad said we can’t afford air conditioning,  so I’m feeling the sweat run down my face and neck and soak into my T-shirt.

My best buddy, Sam, is with his family on a trip. I’m bored, bored, bored. It’s another month-and-a-half before school starts. At twelve, I’m too young to get a job; so here I sit. I stared out at the big black-rimmed clock on the black pole near the park. Nothing was there, so I glanced down at my comic and then back out the window. Now there was  a kid about my age standing near the clock pole.

I got up and moved to the front screen door, slowly unhooking it. I swung it open and went outside and down the steps to our walk.  Slowly, foot by foot, I came to the main sidewalk, then crossed the street.

I’d never seen this kid before. He was thin, pale and seemed real nervous.

“Hi,” I said. “You’re new in town ain’t ya?”

“Yeah. Me and my parents just moved here from near Selwich.”

He stood first on one foot, then the other.

“I gotta go home now. Mom and Dad don’t like me to wander very far from home.”

Then he ran off.

That evening at dinner, I told Dad about the new kid. He seemed to think for a while.

“Selwich?” he said. “That sounds familiar. Oh. I know. People spotted a wolf over near there too, just like here. They said it was kind of small and seemed wary of getting close to them. Where in the heck do you suppose a wolf came from? Maybe somebody had it as a pet and it got loose.

I felt a chill all of a sudden, even though it was still hot. I remembered something too. I went and got my comic book, The Mayfield Werewolf.