Category Archives: Creative Writing

That Clever Wasp

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

I had the dream again.

When was the last time I saw him, and did he bring my son? My son they thought I’d drowned, but didn’t.

Then it was tomorrow, then yesterday, then now, but the fog was so thick I could barely find the daylight. I made my way to the window, to place myself in Place, if I could not pin myself to time. Bedsheet around my neck.

I touched the glass, but didn’t feel it. On the other side, a hornet crawled my palm. My hand, that held the baby down.

That clever wasp was free.

100 words

Hello Fictioneers! It’s been awhile. I couldn’t resist some dark madness on this wintry morning when I saw this shot of an abandoned New Jersey mental hospital. If you’re familiar with the movie The Others, you’ll probably get where I was going with this. If you’re not familiar with it, you’ll probably think I’m mad. And you may be right 😉

Thanks to Rochelle for hosting this weekly party and thanks J Hardy for the inspiring photo. To read more stories inspired by the prompt or to submit your own, visit the links via the blue button below:


The Last Family Vacation

St. Helena Island | © kyle williamson, Google Maps

They were fighting again.

Derek could read his mother’s moods like a seasoned meteorologist and something had happened while he’d sat on the precipice and sketched for the past hour.

Mom’d showed up, arms folded, mouth taut. “We’re going back to the ship. Now.”

Dad was all false cheer on the drive back to the boat, sneaking sips from the silver flask he kept in the front pocket of his Bermudas and going on about Napoleon and what a treat it was to finally see such a historical sight.

At the harbour store stop, she returned with a bottle of gin.

“Looks like someone means to have fun,” Dad said; the chuckle that followed rang hollow.

She shot him a dark look before turning to Derek. “Someone seems to think this trip isn’t fun at all.”

Derek looked down. It wasn’t, if you wanted to get all honest about it.

150 words

This has been an edition of What Pegman Saw. My apologies to the people in this photo. Not sure why it inspired this sad family drama, but it truly had nothing to do with them.

To read more stories inspired by the prompt, click here.

Some People Never Come Back

rusty canoe on a sunny day on a northern lake

PHOTO PROMPT – © Jennifer Pendergast


How Aaron and Scott had mocked the old outfitter as they left the store—called him Grizzly Adams and fell into fits of laughter while admiring their new boots and studying the map.

It was Minnesota: land of shopping malls and Vikings football. It was July, for God’s sake. What could possibly go wrong?

Scott was gone now. There was no one to laugh with—not that Aaron would.

The gear was long lost: the canoe, compass, the matches. Even the Bowie knife and the new boots.

And Aaron was finally realizing: the old man was right.

Another edition of the Friday Fiectioneers. Thanks to Rochelle for hosting, and Jennifer Pendergast for the marvelous photo!









Sweet Justice – A Sunday Photo Fiction Prompt


Joe first saw the Saab just east of Des Moines, when it nearly clipped an old Chevy by darting past a busfull of Baptists.

And there it was again, outside of Iowa City. Top down: the woman jabbering on her mobile as she roared on the on ramp, blaring her horn at a shimmying Winnebago.

Around DeKalb, the black convertible had slowed to a crawl. The woman never even paused to look up from her texting as Joe passed her.

Not long after, she was on his tail, laying on the horn before leapfrogging across four lanes of traffic.

Three hundred miles of these antics, her always in a hurry and then inexplicably behind him again, weaving around as if the lane lines were only suggestions.

And so, when he saw her parked at the lakefront bar, he could hardly believe his luck.

Joe nestled his rig inches from the driver door. He chuckled as he got out and admired his parking job. She’d never get into her car, let alone extract it from that spot.

He stretched widely. There’d be no sleeping in the rig for him tonight. No, tonight he’d get himself a nice hotel.

196 words.

This has been a selection for Alistair Forbes’s Sunday Photo Fiction Challenge–where participants are encouraged to contribute 100-200 word flash fiction based on the prompt. To read more or to submit your own, click the blue froggy button.

Any More is Deadly

A Friday Fictioneer fail–this one weighs in at 104 words.

PHOTO PROMPT © G.L. MacMillan.

PHOTO PROMPT © G.L. MacMillan.

Havon was a gentle man. When she’d come by with the swollen eye, he’d made a compress to soothe it. And when she came in crying—two months gone with Mister’s baby—Havon had made her tea.

Today, she’d limped in clutching bruised ribs from where Mister’s boot had landed.

Havon walked to his window and took a bottle from the highest shelf. “Two drops will take away the pain, but any more is deadly.” He handed her the bottle. “I won’t expect to see you back. Not like this.”

She hurried home with the tincture curled into one fist. Mister’s dinner would not be late.

This has been another edition of the Friday Fictioneers–where writers from around the world contribute their own 100-word story for the prompt. To read more stories or submit your own, click the blue froggy button:

To learn about the Fictioneers, visit our talented and gracious host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Broken Promises

PHOTO PROMPT - © Kent Bonham

PHOTO PROMPT – © Kent Bonham

It was where we said goodbye. Where he kissed me on the forehead and we made promises: me to be a good girl and him to be back Friday.

We didn’t even stay to wave goodbye. Mom had a meeting and when she dropped me off at Daisytowne she said, “I don’t know why you’re crying. It’s only three days. Why do you have to be such a brat?”

I couldn’t tell her I knew.

I counted the days anyway. They told us about the crash on Friday night.

After that, I didn’t even try to be a good girl.

This has been another edition of the fabulous Friday Fictioneers, hosted by The gracious Rochelle. This weeks photo courtesy Kent Bonham.

To enjoy more 100-word flash fiction entries based on the prompt, or to submit your own, click the froggy button:

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A Proper Poking

PHOTO PROMPT - © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTO PROMPT – © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“I daresay, you should give it a poking.”

“What a saucy lass you are. Get on the bed and I shall give you a proper poking.”

Danielle fluttered her eyelids and hid her expression. The Duke’s attentions could mean an escape from the kitchen. Who knew? Maybe even nurse… and a room upstairs. But she had to keep his interest.

“Good sir, perhaps instead of the peaches, you’d prefer something sweeter.”

“And what do you recommend?”

“Perhaps a cherry?”

Below, an ambulance blared by the hotel and the Duke broke character. “Can we just get naked? Our reservation’s at 8:00.”


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The Door

PHOTO PROMPT © Lauren Moscato

PHOTO PROMPT © Lauren Moscato

First, he’d locked it, but that was not enough. Then he’d nailed on the two-by-fours.

“What’s out there?” Julio asked, peering through the gaps.

“Nothing. Help me move that desk over. In front.”

Julio laughed. “There’s nothing out there but a two-story drop. Whachoo afraid of? You think something’s going to get in?”

“No. No.” That wasn’t it at all. That was crazy. Nothing could get up there—not unless flying alligators started prowling this city. Besides, he had no fear of what might get in.

It was what might get out that concerned him.

This has been another edition of the fabulous Friday Fictioneers, hosted by The gracious Rochelle. This weeks photo courtesy Lauren Moscato.

To enjoy more 100-word flash fiction entries based on the prompt, or to submit your own, click the froggy button:


Time for another installment of Friday Fictioneers, a 100-word flash fiction exercise practiced by writers around the world and hosted by the generous Rochelle.

Friday Fictioneers photo courtesy Erin Leary

Friday Fictioneers photo courtesy Erin Leary


Subject: Seven-year-old female child

Parents report subject unable to obey simple household rules. Subject suspected of stealing small household items, including keys and cake.

Parents have witnessed bouts of excessive crying and observed strange ritualized eating behaviors involving said cake.

Subject’s sister reports girl periodically consumes toadstools and/or mushrooms from the yard.

Subject suffers persistent hallucinations and seems preoccupied with chasing wildlife. Patient describes alternating feelings of ‘smallness’ followed by episodes characterized with delusions of grandeur.

Possible diagnoses: Oppositional defiant, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia. Possible dementia triggered by acute poisoning.

Recommended treatment: Electroshock therapy. If hallucinations persist, suggest lobotomy.


For more Friday Fictioneers, or to submit your own, click the blue frog:


A Green (Five) Mile

Every Wednesday, the most generous Rochelle posts a photo-prompt and challenges writers from around the globe for their own 100-word take on the picture. This challenge is known across the world as the Friday Fictioneers.

woman and dog walking railroad tracks

PHOTO PROMPT -© Dawn Q. Landau

Along the tracks, in that wild envelope of green, Whitley could go five miles without remembering.

She could pretend that she and Beau were just on a hike, like those East Coast tourists used to do in their $300 hiking boots and their dryer-fresh socks. Laughing, taking selfies and imagining themselves frontiersmen.

There was nothing like that now.

On the highway, every other mile-marker fell to a tangle of kudzu and broken cars, the mummified drivers still propped behind the wheels. And those tourists? Rotting in their beds in their homes far away.

These days, she kept to the tracks.

Thanks for visiting!

Follow the blue frog button to view all the contributors or to submit your own: 

PS: Microsoft Word counts hyphenated words as a single word. But does Rochelle? If not, I get two demerits.