Friday Fictioneers – Fish

~ neilmacdon
cafc3a9-terrasse-dale-r
Photo Prompt © Dale Rogerson

There was not a cloud in the sky when the rain began. Not water-rain. A single moist slap on the tarmac announced the start.

I turned. A mackerel flapped iridescent on the empty roadway. Then another. Scales brushed my cheek, like the beard scratch of a lover’s kiss. Fish began to fall in torrents.

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. I looked up, hoping to see spuds too, so I could open a fish and chip shop.

But miracles aren’t what they used to be. There weren’t even any bloody loaves.

 

Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here

78 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers – Fish”

  1. Cod! Your right of course plagues and miracles are not what they once were. What happened to the frogs and bubonic periods, oh how I miss them As for turning water into wine, well now who’s responsible for all the plague of alcoholics. Fun read.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  3. Brilliant, So clever, Neil. These “somewhere in space hanging suspended” umbrellas seem to be a thing now. We saw them in Liverpool and I saw them in another town on tv the other day.

    Like

    Reply

  10. What an imaginative take on the prompt! And so many delights in the writing, of which “Scales brushed my cheek, like the beard scratch of a lover’s kiss” is, I think, my favourite. Great last sentence, too.
    And I can’t resist joining in the fun. I guess this is what the weather forecaster means when they say, solemnly “You may see an odd shower from time to time.”

    Like

    Reply

  16. Here I was going to awaken the heavens with rains of gum drops and lemon drops;) My friend, it’s so nice to meet you. Great minds think alike. Now, I’d hope if it were raining fish, the umbrellas would catch that which would land on my plate:)

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  29. The umbrella and the mackerel rain reminded me of a chapter from Murakami’s ‘Kafka on the Shore’. I love the crazy imagination and especially this line- Scales brushed my cheek, like the beard scratch of a lover’s kiss

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

Leave a comment