Tag: Friday Fiction

I held the coffee cup in my hands and looked out of the window, beyond the police officer who had asked my name.

The American flag danced in the breeze and I compared its design to the one I had grown up with. All those lines and little stars.

It had been three years since my defection, which was much simpler than I’d expected. But I still felt nervous when I thought people were sent to recover me.

“Starzanlines,” I answered. “Combo Starzanlines.”

She tapped her notepad.

“Is that German?”

“Polish!”  I smiled encouraging at her and she left.

For more stories from this prompt in Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog, try here.

A shot of heat went through her, a mixture of excitement and shame.

He seemed to have remembered their favourite treat, near where they first met, on Pine Street.

Years ago, in their twenties, they had a torrid, frantic relationship and
she recently decided to look him up.

He’d responded eagerly and they’d had several texts, loaded with the old
cryptic messages that each had to unlock.

So, when he said to meet at the ‘box of ice’ she knew he meant ice cream. It must have been nerves that caused him to type ‘off ice.’

She hurried on.

For more stories prompted by the photo, go to this link.

Sepia

It was another time, I knew. But something about the simple images screamed of order and delineated duty.

The character standing where I do, looking atop the combustion heater, knew how to wield these tools for maximum effect, to bring life, sustenance and pride to the family.

Am I trying to layer texture into her life that she did not seek? Was it a monochrome life yearning for the end of the rainbow, or one in which she was content with the familiar sepia tones?

Dare we allow it to be ‘he’ and not ‘she’?

For other fictioneer tales, see this link.

Wishing you were here

I remember how we used to scuttle up the trunk after one another, like a line of ants. So happy we had the balance. Forgetting the frustration and fear before this.

Then we’d straddle it, grinning like gibbons, threatening to push each other off and gripping the rough bark. Descending only when another challenge presented itself.

But when I saw him, alone, I knew he didn’t want to be followed. He’d gone out on a limb, suspended between ‘let’s make it work’ and ‘It’s over.’

Or elated about his travel and needing to say, directly, ‘wishing you were here’.

To join Friday Fictioneers, see Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog

The chlorine hit me as soon as the automatic door opened, flooding me with memories. Entry from a dive was shocking, whether it was warm, cold or in-between. I’d always loved the viscosity of the union.

I inhaled deeply and my eyes skimmed the water’s surface then closed, seeing my raised arm and feeling the urgency of breathing deeply. Exhaling hard.

Her touch on my shoulder brought me back and I smiled as the lift was attached and I was hoisted into the air and slowly into the pool, keeping my head still. The only thing I could control now.

For Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted To Purple, Friday Fictioneers

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