Closing the curtains, I seal myself in solitude.
Only me and the muted screams from outside.
Jubilation ripping through the streets is a stronger sign of spring than a calendar.
I used to be one of them..dancing, drinking, laughing…
Sister told me to join her today … said it would lift my spirits…
Though, the moment I open the door, I know the festivities won’t nourish my barren heart.
Long exhausted from feigning happiness.
Time to ditch the facade and return to my reclusive reality.
Shutting the door, I save the people from the outcries of a famished soul.
*******This is my contribution to this week’s Friday Fictioneers. I hope you enjoyed it. Be sure to check out pieces from fellow Fictioneers!
My gratitude for your support goes far beyond words,
Derrick takes his mark in a leather jacket and weathered jeans.
I’ve only seen him on screen…until now.
“Y-yes.” I stumble forward, only inches from his chest.
“You can relax.” He smirks.
I stifle a giggle as the crew makes their calls.
Derrick’s steely eyes ignite with lust. “I’ve finally found you.” He pulls me closer.
“Until you lose me again.” I scoff.
“Believe in me. Nothing but death can separate us now.”
He presses his lips to mine, and the cameras fade away.
Desire for this man grows deeper within me than my role requires.
****This is my submission for this week’s Friday Fictioneers. This time, I decided to make it an even 100 words in length. I do hope you enjoyed it, and I believe you’ll find delight in reading some of the other submissions. Thanks for reading!
“Hey Riley, betcha can’t make it to the top.”
“Just watch me!”
Wrapping my fingers around the first branch, I dig my shoes into the jagged trunk. The bark crackles and the limbs creak as I defy gravity, nearing the peak.
Finally to the point where the bending branches refuse to support my weight, I look down for Bobby’s acknowledgment of my feat. Though, his dropped jaw expresses panic, not admiration.
My head snaps to the branch above me. No sooner do I see the lively nest than the eagle dive-bombs toward my head.
***This is my submission for Friday Ficioneers, hosted by the wonderfully inspiring, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. This week, I was able to keep my story to 96 words! This isn’t one of my better pieces, but I wanted to write a lighter story, for a change. However, I definitely find more enjoyment and ease in writing morbid pieces! Thank you so much for reading, and be sure to check out the other submissions!
“Get back here, Anna!”
I run even faster, stumbling every few steps on my mangled foot.
When Jeremy brought me to the condemned insane asylum, I thought the only one thirsting for my blood might be a vengeful spirit.
A side hallway.
Praying it’s an exit to this horrid labyrinth, I make a hasty turn, slamming into the wall.
His raspy panting and tormenting footsteps are drawing closer.
An oily puddle.
He laughs in delight. His musty breath on my neck.
The end of the hall now.
My only exit.
A locked gate.
***This is my submission for this week’s Friday Fictioneers. Only 97 words this time, which is a significant improvement from my word count last week! Please take a look at the other posts from fellow writers! Thanks for reading!
copyright – Adam Ickes
In pursuit of further developing my skills as a writer, I’ve decided to participate in a lovely Friday Fictioneers prompt, hosted by the wonderful Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. The process of cutting a single story down to 100 words (or 105, in my case) was certainly a challenge, being that I tend to over-explain things. The key to these prompts is to make every word count. On that note, here is how the prompt manifested in my thoughts.
“It’s time you give back.”
Her words ring in my mind, as I hammer my finger into the wood. You’d think after three weeks of clearing a river, forging trails, and constructing this godforsaken bridge, I would’ve achieved catharsis by this point.
Securing the last nail in the railing, all I’ve got to show are swollen fingers and sunburned skin.
“Absolutely magnificent,” my team leader rejoices, prancing through the nature preserve.
Pocketing the remaining nails, I head toward the woods. A breeze begs me to turn around.
No one will ever know it took my mom’s last breath for me to create something so beautiful.
Well, this was my first shot at Friday Fictioneers. I encourage anyone who hasn’t participated at least once to give it a whirl. For more inspiration, take a look at the other contributions. Thanks for reading!