Something was wrong. The lamplight in the nook was warm and yellow as freshly churned butter. The grandfather clock allotted time with a reassuring heartbeat. But the world felt awry, dirty.

Then I saw it–the desk covered by packing boxes. Someone had moved into my life.

Angrily, I swept the boxes to the floor. “Whoever you are, get out.”

A voice I did not recognize, full of tenderness and sadness, said, “You don’t know me, do you?”

I spotted no-one and ran through the possibilities: Selective amnesia? Dementia? Trans-dimensional portal?

.

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

The sky was not particularly blue, nor the grass particularly green. But the barns shone vibrant red, like the houses back home—Dad’s one concession to being foreign. In all other respects, he said, “Now we’re here,  and must fit in.”

I saw the guilt wracking him for the mistake of emigrating, for abandoning the hunt of the cod to push a plough. And I understood his pleasure when I took to reading the Edda.

“It’s good you know who you are,” he said. “The ancestors may have slaughtered folk, but it was always personal, and we composed an ode over their corpses. Here, everything’s about money.”

.

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

If you knew what this is, would that make a difference? Let’s say it’s a water scoop for a sauna. Why, then, is it cold enough here to freeze the remaining water? Let’s say glue, instead. Why use such a pretty bucket?

Nothing can be understood without its context, can it, my dear? You are the loveliest woman I ever saw, with a nature as sweet as new-mown summer grass. Why would I kill you? Well, I wouldn’t, of course. And that’s the whole point, really.

Only one more spoonful, my dear, and you can sleep.

.

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

It was all just a little too perfect.  Give them their due—no effort had been spared in attention to detail. Gnarly cobbles underfoot, the yeasty smell wafting from the bakery, the jolly notes of the accordion player, and the swirling gaiety of the people hand-in-hand. Perfect.

“We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” I called, and all motion stopped.

A voice in my ear, almost contrite, from someone I couldn’t see. “What gave it away?”

“Reality is dirtier.”

Of course, he’d do better next time, but I was on my guard now. He’d never learn the secret.

.

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

See this here? “Favour”, not “favor”. This guy’s in the UK. How do I know it’s a guy? Lots of clues, but the way he describes women’s the clincher.

Holmes, you say? You ain’t seen nothing yet. Well-educated—”prestidigitation”, for example. Not an arts degree. From the language precision and the numeracy, I’d say science. Maybe an accountant, and in the north east of England–he says “pet” like a Geordie. And, of course, he’s cheating on his wife. You can learn so much from people’s social media.

He likes to walk in these woods. Go, bring him in.

.

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