Flash fiction – Homeward bound

Time for another flash fiction effort with the Friday fictioneers, hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Here is the picture prompt:

Dhow in harbour

PHOTO PROMPT © Fatima Fakier Deria

They stop on the bridge looking down over the harbour. She grips the railings like she might jump. Next to her, he touches a finger to his lips. ‘Salt,’ he says.

‘Which boat would you choose, if you could, to go home in?’ Her voice is dreamy.

He’s thinking of moules et frites in the little café not two hundred yards away. ‘Home?’ It’s almost a foreign word.

‘Yes. Not that one with the cracked keel; it wouldn’t even make it across the Mediterranean. But, oh, look!’ She’s jumping up and down.

He follows her finger.

‘The dhow,’ she says. ‘Of course! What better boat to sail back to Africa!’

*

If you’d like to write your own 100-word story, click here for more information, or to read other peoples’ stories, click here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Friday fictioneers -Playing the Palais

ff-prompt-17-nov

PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg

Jim played the Palais that last evening. He pressed his cheek to the neck of his double bass, the strings plotting out where his beard might one day grow, and called to the girl in the green dress who was pretending not to cry, ‘They say it’s only ’til Christmas. We’ll play again then!’

Two months later, as the damp English countryside unrolled outside a train carriage, Jim took the whisky the nurse offered. ‘Come dancing tomorrow night,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back with my bass.’

He didn’t ask her what was underneath the huge white paws at the ends of his arms.

*

If you’d like to write your own 100 word story inspired by the picture, click here, or here to read other people’s.

Friday fictioneers: Overheard

image

Image © Sandra Crook

Nodding at the old lady at the next table, the woman said, in a voice that wasn’t enough of a whisper, ‘She must have been lovely when she was younger.’

The subject of her remark looked up. ‘People said similar when I was a child,’ she said. ‘Isn’t she going to be a beauty?’ She smiled, as if the memory amused her. ‘Although it never happened, thank goodness.’

The woman clutched her orange juice like it was a life preserver. ‘I’m sorry. I-‘

Over her champagne glass, the old lady shook her head. ‘Why be sorry? One stands out so much more if one looks unconventional.’

*

If you’d like to write your own 100 word story inspired by the picture, click here, or here to read other people’s.