Kettle #FridayFictioneers

Relics of the past reminded me that no one had lived in this house for sixty-odd years. It was like a time capsule, frozen forever in a single moment.

I would have liked to have know what had happened here. Why had everything been left behind? Where were the owners? But those answers were long gone.

I took photos, documenting everything because despite this museum likeness, I knew it wouldn’t last. Vandals, burglars and homeless people would eventually find the house then the silence would be broken.

All would be lost to time as it should be.

 

(Inspired by;  https://rochellewisoff.com/2019/06/12/14-june-2019/ with thanks).

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The Blue House #FridayFictioneers

The new owners had done the house up nicely. They had even decided to stick with the blue and white colour scheme. I could smell the fresh paint as I walked by.

Stopping, I looked at the rows of plant pots because these were new. I heard a window opening and turned sharply to leave.

‘Good morning!’ a cheery woman’s voice called. She had bright red hair and huge glasses.

‘Hello,’ I called back.

‘I just love this house and we got it so cheap too!’

‘That’s because it use to be my house and I buried ten people in the cellar.’

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2019/06/05/28-june-2019/ with thanks).

Cast Away #FridayFictioneers

Washed up on the island, he had scratched the passage of days into the trunk of a palm tree. Today, there were forty-two lines.

Some of the shipwreck had washed up too and he had used these items to survive. He had hoped someone else might turn up but nobody alive had. The five bodies, he had buried under a marked tree, for recovery later.

The sound of a helicopter broke the air. He grabbed binoculars, a flare gun and climbed into a tree. He searched the sky and when the chopper grew closer, he fired the red signal.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2019/05/29/31-may-2019/ with thanks).

Party Games #FridayFictioneers

Connie tapped the pen against the notepad she was writing the list on. This was the first time she was trying to organise her daughter’s birthday party for a school class.

‘Do kids still enjoy playing party games like pin the tail on the donkey?’ she asked aloud.

Nobody answered her; Connie’s husband had taken their daughter to the park.

‘I use to hate that one. Everyone would laugh at each other for getting the tail in the wrong place.’

Connie signed, looked at the list and began writing again.

‘Let’s just stick with the pinata, pass the parcel and musical chairs.’

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2019/05/22/24-may-2019/ with thanks).

Swimming #FridayFictioneers

Chris felt cold water underneath his bare feet. He looked down into the rippling water of the swimming pool and took deep breaths.

He tried hard to concentrate on the race but couldn’t block out the noise of the cheering parents and the movements of the other children lining up.

The swimming teacher blew the whistle and all the children jumped in as one.

Chris felt the water swallowing him, he kicked off and parted through waves, bobbing up to breath when needed.

The end of the pool came fast and Chris came to the surface with the roaring of the crowd deafening him.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2019/05/15/17-may-2019/ with thanks).

Return #FridayFictioneers

It’s been ages since I last walked through the doors of a church. My loss of faith had been a gradual thing and for years I had stopped believing.

I don’t know why things had started stirring inside of me, I guess because when you don’t have anywhere else to turn you go to religion. Even if you don’t believe and it doesn’t solve the problems, there’s a peace to be had in worship that can’t come from anywhere else.

Taking a few deep breaths, I walk through the door ready to commit once more.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2019/05/01/3-may-2019/ with thanks).

Whelve #AtoZChallenge #FridayFictioneers

Whelve; to bury something deep, to hide.

It was time. I walked across the beach, wet with seaweed as the tide was coming in. Bringing my dad’s ashes back here was fitting. We had loved this beach as a family and there was special rock we had all ways sat on.

It was there I dug a deep, deep hole and hide him under the sand. I could have just thrown the ashes into the sea but I couldn’t let go that easily. At least here, I knew where he was.

Patting the sand back into place, I let the tears fall.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2019/04/24/26-april-2019/ with thanks).

Tohubohu#AtoZChallenge #FridayFictioneers

Tohubohu; choas, disorder, confusion

Over night the world froze. Thick snow fell, covering everything in a deep blanket of white. The weather forecast had predicated it but no one could have guessed how bad it would be.

‘It’s the middle of spring, it’ll be a light dusting,’ people said.

When they woke, it was like being in the grip of a bad winter. The only way to get to places was by walking and most cities ground to a halt.

‘It’ll pass,’ people said.

More and more snow fell and soon the big freeze of everyone’s nightmares arrived.

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2019/04/17/19-april-2019/ with thanks).

Insouciant #FridayFictioneers #AtoZChallenge

Insouciant; free from worry, concern or anxiety.

Knowing my attacker was locked away in jail meant I could take my nightly walks in peace. I hadn’t realised how fully the event had effected me and how much I had missed being able to take my dogs for a walk without having to look over my shoulder all the time.

I took a deep breath of spring evening air and felt for the first time in a year free from worry. It was like I had my freedom back and I hadn’t even realised that he had taken that as well as my body that night.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2019/04/03/5-april-2019/ with thanks).

Cotton #FridayFictioneers

The cotton mills of Manchester, England, had once been a chaos of noise, sights and smells. The machines had roared, drowning everything else out and making the workers deaf. Dust and chemicals had rose thickly, settling into workers lungs and slowly suffocating them. Accidents and deaths were a daily occurrence. Thus, was the price the poor paid to try and survive.

Now, the great mills that had been the body of Manchester were silent. They stood rotting or demolished, an empty tomb in memory of those poor souls who had worked themselves to death.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2019/03/27/29-march-2019/ with thanks).