Guilty pleasure

Friday Fictioneers

Its Thursday here but Friday at FF where our lovely hostess Rochelle Wisoff Fields, has set shop again with an interesting photo prompt.This week the photo prompt is by Erin Leary,thank you Erin .As my  regular readers know,writers from all over the world gather at FF,every Friday, to spin a tale based on this prompt in about 100 words, give or take a few.For more details and rules click on the url http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/friday-fictioneers-2/

My 97 words follow the photo prompt below.

copyright-erin-leary-2

Copyright – Erin Leary

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Dusk fell.

Perkins waited near the foggy path.

His wife was away.

Timing had to be perfect.

He wondered if she would come.

He was dying to taste her…

A shadowy figure appeared.

It was her and she held a small bundle.

His greedy mind conjured up ripe images.

He imagined his teeth sinking into tender skin.

Reaching him, she thrust the bundle at him, “God forgive me! This is insane!”

Perkins grabbed it and ripped off the skin.

Blood dribbled down his chin.

Nothing like a juicy steak! High cholesterol be damned!

“Thanks Sis!”

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Ginger

Friday Fictioneers

I am late-very late-again! The jamboree at FF with our awesome hostess Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, took off  5 days back .Over 100 writers joined the fun and submitted their 100 word stories in response to the weekly photo prompt.The photo prompt below was provided by none other than my very talented friend Bjorn Rudberg. Thanks Bjorn for really stumping me  for two days and then with the mercury climbing  higher,I almost “melted” 🙂 Finally,today the weather  being slightly better,I decided to post the story.My 100 words follow the photo prompt below.

For participating or reading other entries in this writing challenge,click on the url http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/friday-fictioneers-2/

 

bjc3b6rn-15

Copyright – Björn Rudberg

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Ginger

Ginger’s orange coat shimmered as she climbed the wall.

 A loud burst of music startled her.

The neighbours were at it again-what did they call it? Jam session!

It was not that she did not like music but they needed to take lessons from her boyfriend.

Ah, when Tom serenades her even his friends can’t resist joining-the flirtatious rogues!

She did not socialize readily but tonight the delicious smell wafting over warranted a visit.

Nobody noticed her as she made her way to the dining table till someone cried out, “What a cute cat!”

Meow! So much for dinner…

 

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Adventure

Friday Fictioneers

This time Friday has come and long gone and I can’t believe that I am joining the weekly FF melee almost at the fag end-phew!Well, real life sometimes takes over and one has to patiently wait for a break. I would like to thank all those who came over to read and comment on my post.Will come by later today, to thank you all personally. As we  are all observing FF is becoming more and more popular and to read over 100 entries every week is getting tougher.So,I am going  to chose what many others are already doing.I will come by to read and comment on those  who have been  regularly reading  mine  and those who never fail to return the favour. Needless to say,I will definitely pay a return visit to those who come by  to read  and comment on mine for the first time-that’s what a community is for 🙂

Okay,now that is out of the way,let me get back to the nitty- gritty of FF.Every Friday(okay,okay Wednesday) our wonderful hostess Rochelle Wisoff-Fields cooks up a storm by providing a photo prompt ,based on which writers from all over the globe  rush to spin a 100 word(give or take a few more -or less) story.This week the photo is provided by none other than the very talented Douglas M Macllroy-thank you Doug :-)If you are interested in participating a or reading what others have written, do click on the url http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/friday-fictioneers-2/ and I promise you will be hooked.

My 101 word story(including the title) follows the photo prompt below.

monsters-dmm

Copyright – Douglas M. MacIlroy

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Adventure

 

“Is the sea monster going to gobble us all?” asked little Gina.

Tim retorted, “No silly, we are safe under the rafters.” 

“Anyway mermaids are stronger than sea monsters!” Quipped Alice sagely.

The monster was circling around, when suddenly…

“Argh! What are you kids doing under my new cushions?”

‘Oh, no! It’s Mom!” The children groaned.

“Dave, is this how you keep an eye on them?”

Her husband took off the diving helmet and grinned sheepishly.

 “Molly, I thought the kids would enjoy an undersea adventure.”

Rolling her eyes, Molly remarked, “Thank God, you decided to keep the sea away!”

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The promise

Friday Fictioneers

Yay!Finally it is Wednesday!So what is so great about it you say?Ah,but unless you are a FF junkie like me and have missed a week  for any reason-mine being  ill-health-you would not understand 🙂 You see our wonderful hostess with the mostest,lovely and super talented writer Rochelle has created a magical world for flash fiction writers at FF.Every week,over hundred writers from around the globe,hop,skip and jump to weave 100 word tales based on a photo prompt.If you are a story teller too  or love to read stories,do check  this cool site by clicking on this URL  http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/friday-fictioneers-2/ .I promise you will be hooked forever:-)

This week, the photo is by DLovering and my 101 words,including the title follow the photo.

 

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copyright – DLovering

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The promise

 

Last minute decorations were being added.

 

Excitement permeated the wedding venue.

 

 The Bride felt nothing except anxiety.

 

 She loved another.

 

The bridegroom arrived amid loud fanfare.

 

Everyone rushed to welcome them.

 

The Bride clutched the phial of poison tightly. He had promised…

 

Suddenly the gaiety was disrupted by a band of masked men on horses.

 

They fired.

 

Bandits!!

 

People screamed.

 

The gang leader scooped the bride up on his horse.

 

As they rode across the border, the bride hugged the Bandit.

 

 “I was so afraid.”

 

“You needn’t have. I never break a promise,” replied her lover, hugging her back.

 

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The harvest

Image courtesy of Unsplash.

Image courtesy of Unsplash.

 

The harvest

 
Butch looked at the vast corn fields spread out in front of him and his heart lifted. As far as the eye could see it was a sea of lush gold. A slight breeze was fanning the ears of the corn stalks and they seemed to beckon him.

 
The Sun had decided to call it a day and was preparing to retire .The sky blushed wearing the warm red and mellow orange coat. Time to pack up, thought Butch.

 
Whistling under his breath, he swung onto his truck and drove to his farm. This year, it was going to be a good harvest and he was pleased. He shed his work clothes, put them into the laundry basket and entered the shower. He was a man of meticulously clean habits.

 
Butch lived alone with only an occasional visitor. He neither entertained, nor attended any local social parties. The small community was used to his strange ways and left him to his devices. He was an excellent farmer and had the best livestock .The many awards adorning his living room was proof enough of that and the locals respected his need for privacy.

 
Dinner over, Butch decided to go check his most prized stock in the barn. The stack of gold in there brought a smile to his lips. He needed to add a few more this season. Picking up the scythe, the gloves and a small bag, he made for the darkening corn fields. As he walked through the corn stalks, they whispered to him,”Thirsty, thirsty, thirsty!”

 
Butch nodded and bent down to drag something from between the stalks. A golden haired young girl , bound and gagged, looking terrified, pleaded silently to be let loose. Butch lifted her to a sitting position and touched her hair reverently. He inhaled the fragrance of her glorious golden curls. It still smelled of the shampoo he had used last night. He took out a brush from his pocket and started combing her hair. All the while, he kept humming .The girl, unable to take it anymore had fainted.

 
This displeased Butch and he shook her like a rag doll, yanking at her hair, snarling at her lack of response. Then, releasing her, he fumbled in his bag and brought out a bottle of water, a pair of scissors and a jeweled mirror.

 
Sprinkling some water on the girl’s face, Butch revived her and then thrust the mirror into her tied hands. Gesturing her to look into the mirror, he expertly sheared off all her hair. As she watched in horror, he took out the scythe and with one sharp sweep chopped off her head. As the head rolled and blood pooled at the roots of the plants, he set to work, clearing the field of all evidence of his “ritualistic orgy”.

 
He had a lot to do before the Sun came up. He was happy to have this bounty of tonight’s harvest to add to his stock in the barn.

 

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The above story was written for Write on Edge,writing prompt,2014,week 12. The challenge was to write a piece of fiction or poetry in 500 words or less(mine is 500 words,including the title)based on either the photo above (I decided to pick the photo)or use the quote ,”Still round the corner there may wait, A new road or a secret gate.” by J. R. R. Tolkien ,or use both.For more details or to participate please click  on this http://writeonedge.com/2014/03/writing-prompt-2014-week-12/

 

Enchanted

Friday Fictioneers

This week,our fabulous hostess Rochelle Wisoff-Fields decided to give us a gift at FF by posting the photo prompt a day early 🙂 So we early birds caught the worm and are now sitting pretty on Tuesday,imagining it to be the weekend 😀  Those of you who are fellow addicts at FF  already know what I am talking about – for all others, here is the link to the site. http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/friday-fictioneers-2/  Check it out,I promise you will not egret it 🙂

This week’s photo prompt has been provided by John Nixon .It has a lot of promise and I know that this week I will be reading more than 100 fantastic takes on this prompt.Sadly,my muse has gone on a vacation,so I had to spill out whatever occurred to me-could not miss the early bird prize now,could I? My 100 words follow the photo below 🙂

Copyright-John Nixon

                                              Copyright-John Nixon

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Enchanted

 

“There is nothing bewitching about this forest, “hissed Marge.

“Yeah, it’s ugly!”

“Shh…The elves may not like it Pat,” warned Nina.

“Elves?”Giggled Cory.

“Fairies too,” whispered Tory, her twin.

“Where are the magical beings?”Marge looked angrily at Nina.

Hidden eyes watched.

“Kids don’t believe in magic nowadays!” exclaimed the fairy Queen.

“Yet, they love video games!”  the elf remarked.

“Where do they think those fantasy ideas came from?” the Witch sneered.

“So, trick or treat?” the imp winked.

“Both!”

Roots crept up wrapping the kids.

They screamed in terror.

Then, open mouthed they watched the forest transform magically…

 

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The collectors

avond-evening-the-red-tree

The collectors

Looks can be deceiving. Her mother, Simone, never failed to drill it in to Donna and her sister Felicity’s psyche when she told them how she had met Dan, her husband and their Dad at an art gallery and had taken him to be the janitor. He was so unassuming that very few had an idea about his brilliance and that he was already a millionaire at 25. His business acumen became legendary in the later years and by the time their beautiful and sophisticated mother married him at 30, he was almost a billionaire.

Yes, Donna nodded her head in assent to her mother’s mantra as she added the final touches to the painting. Years of training, dedication and a steady hand, made her work picture perfect. The blue background and the storm swept tree looked majestic, yet bowed down with deep sorrow. She smiled .An apt cover for the Van Gogh which had been at the receiving end of her expert manipulations this time. She stood up, stretching her lithe and supple limbs.

Time for a break and she also needed to make that call.

“Hello Darling!”

“Hi, there! Missed you.”

“Me too. Finished my painting.”

“Wonderful. Will come down tonight to have a look then and we can have dinner somewhere?”

“That would be lovely. See you at 8 then?”

“Okay, see you.”

Richard, her fiance, was a Professor of Art history and she had met him at a party. His extensive knowledge on the subject had fascinated her and he was smitten by the strong woman hidden behind that fragile lissomeness. Her father’s art collection made their meetings more interesting and they started dating. After two years, they got engaged and now plans were on for a Christmas wedding.

“This is brilliant work, my love,” Richard beamed; his warm brown eyes looked almost dark in excitement.

“Thank you Richie. I will hang it in Dad’s room .I think it will cheer his spirit,” Donna smiled mischievously.

“So, what’s the next plan?”

“Next week, the Rockweller’s are throwing a party. Their collection will be on view. I have already seen it twice and I have my heart set on their Monet.”

“I believe they also have that Picasso we have heard so much about?”

“Yes, you heard right but remember “restraint” is the key to success.”

“You are the Boss, Ma petite,” said Richard, drawing Donna into his warm embrace.

She snuggled into his arms and responded,”We are a team-a formidable one.”

The Rockweller’s Art Deco party was a huge success and they basked in the pride which every art collector worth his salt lives for. They had no idea that every night from then on, their mansion would be under surveillance. Two hooded figures, dressed in black, followed their every move. One such night, when the Rockwellers had gone out and the servants had retired to their quarters, the two figures entered the mansion. The burglar alarms and the CCTV cameras had already been compromised-these two were no amateurs and neither was this their first-or last-such heist.

Next morning, as soon as the newshounds got a whiff, the heist made headlines. But no amount of detection could reveal even the slightest hint as to who the Art thieves could be or how many were there. The agencies involved including the Interpol and FBI knew that the stolen work would probably resurface some 3 to 5 years later in some part of Europe but by then it would be impossible to prove that it was stolen because of the different laws in the two continents.

 Six months down the road, enjoying a quiet dinner, Richard and Donna were chalking out plans for their Honeymoon.

“Mom thinks we should go to Italy.”

“Ha! Ha! Now how did she read my mind?”

“While we are away, our last two year’s fruits of labour will be auctioned off.”

“Your Mom has her uses, eh?”

“Definitely! Thankfully, she never cottoned onto what Dad’s real profession was.”

“I really respect your Dad. That man sure knew how to build a reliable and foolproof network.”

“True. Wish you two had had more time together. He would have been proud to see you as his official son-in-law.”

“I do hope our kids will inherit your sense of adventure and his discerning eye for real art, money and…”

“Yes, yes along with your brains, charm and my mom’s practicality”, giggled Donna, looking at Richard coquettishly.

 Richard burst out laughing.

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This was written for Speakeasy’s weekly writing challenge.The challenge was to(a) write  a piece of fiction or poetry in 750 words or less(mine is 748 words,including the title),(b) the FIRST line of our submission must be: “Looks can be deceiving.” and (c)make some sort of reference to the media prompt- a painting called Avond (Evening): The Red Tree by Dutch artist, Piet Mondrian.If you are interested in participating,please click on the link here http://www.yeahwrite.me/speakeasy/153-open/

The sleuth

Friday Fictioneers

Yay!Its Friday!No?What do you mean it is Wednesday?At FF,it is Friday and if you don’t believe it,you sure need to visit our amazing hostess Rochelle Wisoff Fields at her blog http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/friday-fictioneers-2/.Every week,she inspires over 100 talented writers  from all over the globe to write a 100 word story based on a photo prompt.

This week the photo prompt has been provided by none other than,the Prima Donna ,Rochelle ,herself.Well,as you all can see,this is a tough photo and I had a hard time  orchestrating my lines.Thus,if it sounds off -key,kindly bear with my unskilled play.I promise to practice and do better next time(and do remember promises are meant to be broken,har!har!).My 100 word story follows just after the photo prompt below:-)

Copyright -Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

                                 Copyright -Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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The sleuth

‘I don’t like our neighbour. Looks like Jack the Ripper. ”

“Beatrice!”

Beatrice loved crime serials and fancied herself to be Sherlock Holmes.

“Arthur, can you hear odd sounds from upstairs?”

“No.”

“Something heavy is being dragged.”

“The bed?”

Later…

“Arthur, there is blood in the drain.”

“I don’t see any.”

“You blind? Am sure he has killed her.”

“ARTHUR! Come quick-he is escaping.”

“Go to bed.”

“But he had a sack…Am going to call the police.”

“Yes Madam, we found traces of human blood .An APB has been issued. Thank you for your call.”

Beatrice beamed.

 

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Do not disturb

Friday Fictioneers

Friday has come and gone (in my part of the world at least) and I have not yet made my entry on FF,where every week our fantastic host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields  reels in over 100 writers from all over the globe to spin their magic with the photo prompt provided,in around 100 words.For more details,please click on this –  http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/friday-fictioneers-2/

This week I was afraid I may miss entering as my brother and his family are visiting.With tons of fun,cooking ,cleaning and outings,hardly any time left to  catch the escaped muse,which seizing it’s chance has gone on a vacation.But as all FF writers will admit,we loathe to miss getting our weekly fix ,so here is my 100 word tale(sorry if it is insipid) following this week’s photo prompt,provided by none other than the very talented and versatile Adam Ickes-thank you Adam:-)I also hope that my friends and readers will understand if I am late this week in catching up with the reading and responding.

AdamIckes-boardwalk

copyright – Adam Ickes

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Do not disturb

 

This is beautiful!

Knew you would like it buttercup.

What a view!

Wait till night falls-it is spectacular.

Why is it so deserted?

The locals say the bridge is cursed.

How?

People disappear.

Great! Now kiss me and let us disappear too.

Good idea, come closer.

Umm…

Ouch!

What happened?

Something bit my leg.

Let me see…

Jon, I am scared.

Something is not right.

What’s that slithering noise?

Let’s not wait. Run!

Unseen, the inky black creatures emerged from under the bridge and sinking their sharp teeth into the fleeing ankles, dragged them into the water.

 

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The homecoming

Image courtesy of Unsplash.

                            Image courtesy of Unsplash.

 

 

The homecoming

 

Sitting on the porch with a cup of his favourite chamomile tea, Henry welcomed the Sun. Mornings gave him hope. His eyes scanned the road but nothing moved except the trees at the far end –her sentinels, Mabel had said. Henry smiled and went inside. It was time to go to work.

His day at the farm passed in a flurry of activity as it was harvest season-the busiest of all times and he was happy to note that this year the yield had been almost double the last. At this rate he would soon be able to buy that piece of land he had been eyeing for the last 3 years. He wondered if Mabel would have approved and sighed .He still missed her.

Driving home, he stopped at the local Deli to pick up some groceries. Living alone had its disadvantages but he never forgot to stock up .He did not intend to compromise his health and it showed. His face was smooth and his body rugged and muscular, belying the forty years that he had crossed. His boyish charm and easy manner made him look a decade younger.

After supper, Henry picked up the book he had been reading. It was by a new author, someone named M.Aniston and he was enjoying it. An hour later he was thinking of calling it a night when a sentence caught his eye and he jerked into total wakefulness. The hero, John, was beseeching the heroine, Shyla to reconsider her decision to leave town and him, but she was adamant. She wanted to chase her dreams. So John says,” You could’ve made a safer bet, but what you break is what you get.”

Henry couldn’t believe his eyes! How could that be? Those were the very words that he had said to Mabel when she had left him to pursue her career in the big city ten years back. She did not want to be a farm girl she had said. But wait, M could be her initial and wasn’t Aniston an anagram for Santino? Well, before he jumped to any conclusion, he wanted to check the ending of the novel. And there it was, on the last page. He read aloud,”Shyla ran sobbing into John’s arms, saying,” You wake up in the bed you make. I think you made a big mistake by allowing me to leave. John Cabot, You own me. There’s nothing you can do. You own me.”

Henry was almost beside himself with excitement and joy. He logged on to the net and googled the details of the Publishing Company. It was a two hour journey to the city. He also googled M.Aniston and was not surprised to see an old snap of his Mabel .He could hardly wait for morning to arrive.

He would never spend any more restless nights with only the blanket of his memories for company. It was time for the sentinels to welcome their mistress home, forever.

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This was written for  Writing Prompt: Week 10 at Write on Edge.The challenge was(1) to write 500 words or less of fiction of any genre based either on the photo prompt given above or(2) use the quote,

You could’ve made a safer bet, but what you break is what you get.
You wake up in the bed you make. I think you made a big mistake.

You own me. There’s nothing you can do. You own me.

~Mark Berninger of The National, Lucky You

(3)or use both .

I decided to use both  the quote and the photo prompt and the word count including the title is 498.If you are interested in joining  or reading the entries,please click on this url http://writeonedge.com/