When things started falling upwards, I knew it wasn’t going to be an ordinary day.  The colander and the beer tankard whirled above my head, making a tiny planetary system.

If life gives you lemons, as they say, make lemonade. I spread my arms and prepared to float into the roof lantern. We’ve all dreamed of flying, right? But my feet remained planted.

That’s my failing. If there’s a rule, I obey it. The law of gravity held me sullen in its grip as the cat began slowly to ascend the blue dome of the sky.

 

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

Yesterday was Tuesday. Much like Monday, nothing special. But today is totally changed. Until yesterday, you were in the world, and now you’re not. I don’t know how to comprehend this.

I pick up the book you were reading. Sniff it. But it smells of printers’ ink, not you. I try to read the words, the last words you saw, the same ideas that passed through your mind filling mine, as if some semblance of you might remain in them.

Until I reach the word “yesterday”, such an innocent word. But I cannot continue.

 

 

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 day before yesterday, it was charming—a sport of nature. I popped it into a wine glass and provided water to drink.

The seed grew so fast, tendrils unspooling and feeling along the walls. Even when I realised, I did nothing. Perhaps it was already too late, but I didn’t try.

These were not branches but emptiness, spreading cracks in reality. You’d expect to feel terror, but the mind adjusts, as if to an ache. I can admit only to curiosity about events.

Maybe the cracks will widen and something will come through.

 

 

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

With each day I am moving into the time before. I am becoming an ancestor. My limbs are frail and my breath comes heavy. Never again will I chase down a deer.

But the young ones sit at my feet and ask me “In your experience, how is this done?” And with every answer, they venerate me more. I move in a loop, catching up now and again with the era of my forebears.

 

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.

Ten steps lead up to the door. I’d dated Esther ten times. These things have a meaning, I know.

In my pocket, Mum’s ring bumps against my hip as I mount the stairs, like an ambassador bringing tribute to a potentate.

I press the bell. Overhead, a flock of new-hatched starlings trace patterns in the sky. There are ten of them.

She opens the door and I smell the scent of gardenias. A waft of coriander has followed her from the kitchen. On one knee, I proffer the ring.

“Are you nuts?” she says. “We’ve been on, like, ten dates.”

 

 

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’s purple. Not like a bruise but like an emperor. What’s it doing on my drive?

Perhaps it’s a swarm of rare butterflies on their elusive migration. The Purple Emperor avoids flower nectar and seeks out rotting flesh.  Maybe what’s in my cellar is attracting them. With a shiver of revulsion, I try to brush aside the fear.

But too late. Already lepidopterists are gathering under my trees, armed with nets and small packets of Stinking Bishop cheese. I rush to bolt the door but two have taken up station with field glasses in my kitchen.

 

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

You probably remember the headlines about bacteria in that sample of Mars rock. Life on other worlds!

You won’t remember, because nobody blabbed, the bacteria were earth-like. Same genetic code, same enzymes. Too earth-like.

Buy me another whiskey and I’ll explain.

We thought contamination, of course. But the sample was four billion years old. Here’s the kicker—life on earth started around three and half billion years.

You put the pieces together. Life on Mars was earth-like. It began before life on Earth. See? Our life originated on Mars. Nothing else fits. They suppressed that.

Another? Thanks. You’re a gentleman.

 

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 dialysis machine clicked and hummed. Nurses came and went. Days passed, weeks.

Then there was a doctor. “I’m afraid there’s still no suitable donor. The wait might take years.”

“I don’t want to die,” I said. “And I can’t live like this.”

The doctor stroked his chin. It made a rasping sound. He looked around him and lowered his voice. “Have you considered going abroad? In China you could get this done in weeks.”

“How can they do that?”

“I’ve heard they harvest the organs of executed prisoners, but no-one is sure.”

For a long time, I pondered.

 

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

There is a castle on the hill. Of course. Bright pennants fly from its turrets, and tin men issue from its gates for quests and feats of derring-do.

There’s a dragon in the valley, puffing great gouts of fire. Naturally.

There will be a bay with a captured treasure ship riding at anchor. I can’t spy it yet but I know it’s there.

And there’ll be a princess, awaiting rescue from the evil baron. That’s what princesses are for. And she’ll swoon and love me.

The summer hols stretch ahead as far as the imagination can see.

 

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

Why are you chanting woo-ooo at me like an idiot? If you got something to say, speak. Oh yeah, right—you’re a ghost. The white sheet thing? Great to meet you. And I’m Santa Claus.

Listen, I’m telling you, you’re going to need a better story than this. If you’re after money, wait till Halloween. I don’t have a bean anyhow.

You want me to believe that’s your body, or at least your skeleton, in the glass case? No, I can’t see your ribcage. That’s a stack of pretzels.

Beat it, before I call the cops.

 

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