On “The Way of Love,” our Lenten devotional series, today’s theme is prayer. I thought of this flash fiction piece I wrote several years ago. Although fiction, I think it is a lesson in faith. I hope you enjoy it.
— Photo by B. W. Beacham
by Jan Brown
The Shoreline Mission Shelter was destroyed by the hurricane. I wept when I witnessed the first responders removing Father Paul’s lifeless body. Most of the residents survived. But they still hadn’t found Lanie. Only her shopping cart was there, upended on what was now the beach.
Three days later, they found part of the structure a mile away, half buried in the sand. And under the heavy wooden beams—Lanie! “Where’s Father Paul?” she said in a hoarse whisper. “I need to thank him. If he hadn’t stayed and prayed with me these past few days, I couldn’t have survived.”
Welcome to Friday Fictioneers, where every story is a surprise. Each week, writers from around the world post 100-word stories based on a photo prompt provided by author Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Visit her site for more information on the Fictioneers.
Photo Credit: Roger Bultot
Song of Angels
by Jan Brown
They arrived in a flash of light. The ship was a white, feathery confection with a thousand portals. The beings inside it were composed only of light and sound. And what a sound! Their song was enchanting, spirit-lifting, even healing.
Anyone in hearing range would instantly feel better, happier, cured of earthly ills, ready to pass along the song to the next needy human. Soon, the world was filled with the captivating sound of thousands, then millions, then billions of resonant voices—human and alien, soprano and alto, tenor and bass.
It was a powerful harmony that changed the world.
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Welcome to Friday Fictioneers, where writers from around the world post 100-word stories based on a weekly photo prompt. Today’s photo is by my long-time Twitter pal, Björn Brudberg. Check out his poetry and prose here.
Our motley crew of writers is led by the delightful author Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Check out her website to learn more about the group and post your own story!
Photo Copyright: Bjorn Brudberg
The Christmas Cap
by Jan Brown
She tore through the dresser, determined to find her favorite cap. She hadn’t seen it since he died.
It was a Christmas gift, hand-knit with braided yarn that hung to her shoulders. She remembered vividly the last time she wore it.
She had stomped through the door, partly to shake snow off her boots and partly just to stomp her feet in anger. Her husband could be so maddening! Today, she can’t even remember why they argued.
The last words she said to him were not kind. The guilt was overwhelming.
Finally, she found the cap in his long-empty nightstand. A note stuffed inside said “Love you, darling.”
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Welcome to Friday Fictioneers! I am making a late entry due to a medical emergency last Friday. Please forgive my tardiness. I am beginning to recover to my normal state of decrepitude, and will meet with the surgeon tomorrow to discuss what I hope will be a brighter future!
To learn more about Friday Fictioneers, please visit the blog of our fearless leader, author Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
One of Four
by Jan Brown
ZZ Top would have called him a “sharp dressed man,” with his blindingly white pressed shirt and bow tie, his gray hair neatly coifed. I imagined what his regal face and athletic body would have looked like 50-60 years ago. I felt a chill climb up my spine as I realized who he was.
Back in the day, he was an ordinary student—but extraordinary for his protest. He and his friends started a movement amongst other “ordinary” folks who were tired of visiting restaurants where African Americans could not be served.
I wondered, are LGBTQ welcome now?
Word Count: 98
David Richmond (from left), Franklin McCain, Ezell Blair Jr., and Joseph McNeil leave the Woolworth in Greensboro, N.C., where they initiated a lunch-counter sit-in to protest segregation, Feb. 1, 1960. (No photographers were allowed into the store on the first day of protest.) Photo credit: Jack Moebes/Corbis (via npr.org)
The February One Monument on the Campus of North Carolina A&T State University, honoring the Greensboro Four–Photo via Wikipedia, public domain
This story is inspired by the prompt, “What Pegman Saw.” Each week, Karen Rawson provides a location-based prompt from Google Maps™. The goal is to keep your story to 150 words or less. Prompts are posted on Pegman’s Blog Fridays at midnight CST.
Time and Relative Dimensions in Space
by Jan Brown
There it was: the TARDIS! Michael had told her it was hidden next to the caretaker’s cottage, but she hadn’t believed him.
Well, who would? Michael was just a young research Fellow, jealous of the Doctor and his seemingly endless knowledge–not to mention his popularity with the student body. With computer registration, the Doctor’s classes were always full within minutes.
She lugged a heavy backpack jammed with tools that might be necessary to open the time machine’s door. She tried the electronic screwdriver she stole from the Doctor’s desk, but the door didn’t budge. Duh…it was secured by a padlock. She cut the lock with her bolt-cutters and pulled the door open with nothing but her hand.
Well, damn. It was just that prick Michael’s practical joke! To be certain, she flipped the main power switch inside the “TARDIS” and watched the street lights turn off throughout the park.
If you’re not familiar with Doctor Who, you may not have seen a TARDIS, which is actually a time machine disguised as a phone booth. You can check out the current episodes here.
A friend of mine, Marva, requested some “longer” short stories, so I’m posting links to some of my longer flash fiction below. It actually exceeds the length usually allotted to flash fiction, but that should make Marva happy 🙂
A Whiff of Whiskey
The Adventures of Techno-Man
You can see more stories by clicking the “Flash Fiction” tab on the menu at the top of the computer screen.
Welcome to Friday Fictioneers, where every story is a surprise. We are an international community of writers who get together once a week to write flash fiction. Our lovely leader, author Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, posts the photo prompt on her blog, Addicted to Purple.
I’m glad to be back after a brief hiatus. On occasion, my muse goes missing and I have to chase after her (or him). Have I found my muse again? You be the judge! Tell me in your comments 🙂
Photo Copyright: Dale Rogerson
Life and Death
by Jan Brown
Jenny walked the long pathway. The rising sun lit the way, heating the cold stone. On each side, wondrous adventures loomed. Beautiful gardens, inviting beaches, sprawling cities. There were also darker paths with an edgy feel. Certainly riskier exploits awaited there! She longed for the exhilaration, the thrill of accomplishment.
Was she on the right path? So many choices–just like life.
Does He really have a plan for any of this? If so, Jenny wished He would just come out and tell her! But nooooooooo…He leaves it up to her to decide which path to take.
Just like life.
…The rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace. – Luke 1:78-79
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Welcome to Friday Fictioneers, where every story is a surprise! This one is more melancholy than usual. Typically, my characters are either killing each other or falling in love.
Friday Fictioneers is an international community of writers who post 100-word stories each week, based on a photo prompt provided by our lovely leader, author Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Please visit her website for more information.
Photo Copyright: Georgia Koch
by Jan Brown
Nikki’s husband apologized for the boat. Lately, he was always apologizing.
It was a borrowed boat, dirty and unkempt. But they no longer had access to their yacht—now the bank’s yacht. Nikki wondered if stiff-faced men in pin-striped suits would be throwing a TGIF party tonight on the bay.
They spread a big double sleeping bag on the bottom of the boat, along with a cooler full of lovely but inexpensive wine, cheese and fruit.
Gliding through the calm, moonlit waters, they wondered at the turn their lives had taken, and dreamed of simpler times.
More love. Less money. No regrets.
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Welcome to Friday Fictioneers! We are an international community of writers who post 100-word stories each week, based on a photo prompt provided by our lovely leader, author Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. She is re-running some of the favorite photo prompts this summer while she complies with her publisher’s pesky request to complete her third novel.
This was originally posted in September, 2013, based on the photo by Jan Wayne Fields. Thank you, Jan!
Photo Copyright: Jan Wayne Fields
by Jan Brown
I’ve lived in New York all my life, but never visited the Statue of Liberty until today. I ventured out with a small group from our women’s shelter.
What impressed me most was the broken shackle and chain at her feet. She was free. She was me. Releasing the old, embracing the new.
My jerk of an ex-husband was waiting when the ferry returned. He pulled out a gun, but I walked right up to him and grabbed it. The force of the gunshot blew me back onto the ground, and he slumped on top of me.
I was free.
Photo Credit: National Park Service
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It’s time for Friday Fictioneers! This is another summer re-run, a story originally posted in October, 2012. It’s a sad tale, so I won’t say I hope you enjoy it. But I do hope the story transports you, taking you into the mindset of a confused young girl and the predator who exploits her.
Friday Fictioneers is an international community of writers who post 100-word stories each week, based on a photo prompt provided by our lovely leader, author Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. She is re-running some of the favorite photo prompts this summer while she complies with her publisher’s pesky request to complete her third novel.
Photo copyright: Jan Morrill
Not a Love Story
by Jan Brown
Lexi snaked through the alley, hoping no one would recognize her. She hoped no one would tell her father that she lingered in the alley at night, the cool white stucco against her unclad back. How could she explain to her family the yearnings she felt? Only Theo understood.
Theo was a man, not a feckless boy with fumbling hands. He knew her body and what it needed. Friends at school told her that Theo wanted to control her, taking wicked pleasure in sharing her with other men. “There’s a difference between love and lust,” they said. But Lexi was lost to love, not knowing the difference.
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