The brush in my hand is sure as it makes a thin blue vertical ribbon on the right of the canvas. A river. A dip of the brush into zinc white, for a  hint of water trapped in the ice, creates a larger swathe of frozen badland beside the river. Beside that, a brick-red frontage holding back chaos. And a horizontal blanket of cerulean wraps the whole.

What am I saying? That the universe resolves to a spectrum of neat bands? Will they understand? Does it matter? Yes, I’d like just one person to hear my scream.

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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

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?

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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.”

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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

Every now and again, you get a glimpse into how the illusion is achieved. When the light falls just so, when the air holds a tinny reverberation, you can spot the apparition and hear the clanking of great gears. For a while, for a lifetime, for an epoch, the set captivates us. But then we see the flats vibrate and the backdrop flutter. In a moment, it will all be different, the prince will kiss the sleeping beauty, and the world will wake into a new story,

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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 Duke was a cunning man. He’d always say, “If a lord has a strong castle and many loyal soldiers, he’s in trouble.”

“Why is that?” I once asked.

“Because it means he must also have many enemies.”

The man built his place simply, with a covering of wattle and daub over hewn stone and stout mortar. “A place, not a palace,” he’d say with a snigger.

Nobody bothered him. Nobody came to pillage his glittering staterooms and dancing fountains.

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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

He folds his arms, head tilted upwards towards a future only he sees. “The AI maps a pattern in genetic adaptation which we can direct. Why care what it’s made of? What’s important is what it does.”

Of course, I’ll lose, but I fight my corner. “Perhaps if we understood every tiny detail, this might not matter. But the flap of butterfly wings in the Amazon may cause Kansas tornados.”

He smiles that insufferable smile. “So you say, but really you’re invoking the soul. Almost none of the atoms from birth survive, but I’m still me. We’re safe to proceed.”

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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 criticism came out of the blue. “You might at least try to respect my culture, instead of being so sure yours is right.”

And, of course, I came back fighting. “Taking shoes off inside a house is polite? Yeah, there’s nothing as courteous as stinky socks.”

The way we separate the dirty from the clean orders our universe and reflects our anxieties.

“Perhaps you could wash your feet,” she suggested quietly.

Suddenly I knew I loved her.

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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