The Field Trip – Friday Fictioneers

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“Okay everyone, let’s move on. Stay in your groups, please. Red cells over here, white cells over there, and platelets stay close to me.”

The students were buzzing. Field trip day was always chaotic.

“And here we have the ruins of the pancreas. Once a great endocrine institution, the beta cells are now destroyed.”

The youth curiously gawked at the defunct organ.

The teacher, Ms. Macrophage, continued, “Who can tell me why this is important?”

An excited little red cell shouted, “That’s why the blood sugar fluctuates and we get the needles!”

“Exactly right. Lots of needles and synthetic insulin.”

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word count = 100

This one was written for my daughter, Caitlin. She has type 1 diabetes and she loves the movie Osmosis Jones.

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  Join in and see other authors’ entries here.

The Ruins – Friday Fictioneers

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“I have to give her one more chance. I’m sorry.”

His words hit her like a gut-punch. Not again. Familiar tears stung her eyes and her breath caught in her throat.

All she wanted was for things to be the way they were… before he left the first time. She had let herself feel hope this time. Now she just felt foolish. He would never change.

Her mind wandered through the tattered ruins of their relationship – an empty shell of what once was. This is a place to visit but not to dwell. This goodbye has to be the last.

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word count = 100

Friday Fictioneers is hosted by  Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  Join in and see other authors’ entries here.

Goodbye

PHOTO PROMPT © Anshu Bhojnagarwala

 

This time was more somber than usual.

They did the same things, of course. The flag ceremony. Dutch oven cooking. Archery.

But then there were the “lasts.” Last trip to the stables to say goodbye to the horses. Last hike around the lake. Last trip to the outdoor chapel. Last campfire.

The girls gathered around the flames and reminisced about past trips. They laughed. And cried a little, too.

After the fire died out and cooled, they scooped the ashes into little jars. One last tangible souvenir of this magic place.

Their hearts would hold the memories for a lifetime.

 

Word count: 100

Written for Friday Fictioneers, which is hosted by the lovely and talented Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Read the other 100-word nuggets of flash fiction here.

Author’s note: So, this isn’t actually fiction. This is about a recent farewell trip to our nearest Girl Scout camp which was just closed and sold. I went there as a 12 year-old back in the 80s, my first week-long sleep-away camping trip. I’ve been taking my two girls’ troops there twice a year for years. My older troop has been there so many times and actually bridged to senior scouts there in that gorgeous outdoor chapel. That place holds so many memories. I’ve watched the girls grow and try new things there. They’ve gained confidence. They have bonded. Getting children into nature and getting them away from screens is so vital. And they thrive in that environment. The sale of the camp has been a months-long battle between us troop leaders and our council board. But in the end, it was all about money and not about our girls. I hate it and I’ve shed many tears over it… but in the end, we will move on and find new experiences for our girls. They deserve that.

 

Bombs away

” Battle stations stat! Weapons ready!”

It was near. They could hear it sidling, tentacles rustling along the ground. It suddenly came into view as it let out a low, otherwordly, groan.

“Fire!” They shot at the creature but it shrieked and raised up, doubling in size.

Wide-eyed, the battalion scrambled. “We need more power! Get the bomb! Get the bomb! Throw it!”

Bobby closed his eyes and lobbed the bomb at the beast.

********

Mother came running at the sound of shattering glass.

“My door!” She glared at the three sheepish boys.

They would rather take their chances with the alien.

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to our lovely host, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Check out the other 100-word nuggets of fiction here.

 

Jar of Regrets

 

In the quiet, empty house, Michael read the notes with growing dread.

He had never appreciated the jar exercise. Just another silly thing the marriage therapist suggested. Jill had faithfully poured her heart out on the colorful scraps of paper and stuffed the jar full. Michael never understood it and he never read them.

Until now.

The notes in the bottom of the jar were lengthy and hopeful, conveying wishes and needs and things Michael didn’t know. The notes scattered on the table were curt and agitated, obviously more recent.

The last paper he read said it all: DONE. GOODBYE.

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Priya Bajpal

Written for Friday Fictioneers, thanks to our lovely host Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. See the other 100-word stories here.

 

The Lost Branches

I hit enter and watched the little leaves pop onto my screen.

I did the DNA testing to learn about my ancestry. Just out of curiosity, really. Now I was staring at several names – not-that-distant relatives – that I had never heard of.

The next day, grandma held the printout in her weathered hands. A scowl crossed her face as she scanned the names. I waited eagerly to hear the stories that I could see dancing through her mind.

“Ah, yes,” she muttered. “That’s Beulah and her kin.”

“And…?” I prodded.

“Sometimes the family tree just needs some pruning,” she spat.

 

100 words

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Happy weekend! This is written for the weekly flash fiction challenge, Friday Fictioneers. Check out the other 100-word gems of flash fiction here. Many thanks to our lovely host, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

Work in Progress

This is the wonderful business opportunity? You can’t be serious.” Arms crossed, Maria wrinkled her nose in disgust at the dilapidated building.

“I know she needs some TLC…,” Mike began, mind reeling with potential.

“Our car can fit through the gaping hole in the wall! And that terrace is a death trap!”

Mike used his charm. “I was in rough shape when you found me. You took a chance and that turned out okay, right?”

Her eyes softened. “I guess,” she joked, “but you’re still a work in progress.”

Mike patted the wall and whispered, “Let’s get you fixed up.”

 

Word count: 100

PHOTO CREDIT: Sandra Crook

Happy weekend! This is written for the weekly flash fiction challenge, Friday Fictioneers. Check out the other 100-word gems of flash fiction here. Many thanks to our lovely host, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

On the Run

Sunsets were bittersweet to Ana. They were beautiful, but they were also a harbinger of the darkness to come.

She had stopped at the pond to rest, maybe even to bathe. Her sore muscles begged for respite.

She froze as the hair stood up on her neck. Was it the cooling twilight air or was it because of him?

Yes, darkness was coming. In more ways than one. She could feel him. He was close. Always too close.

Ana wistfully picked up her sword and bag. She had to keep moving before the reds and purples overhead faded to black.

Word count 100

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Happy weekend! This is written for the weekly flash fiction challenge, Friday Fictioneers. Check out the other 100-word gems of flash fiction here. Many thanks to our lovely host, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

The Survivor

Martin stood in the ruins of the abandoned hospital, his mind lost in the nightmares of 1860.  He could feel her here, his sweet Helena. Her imprint was strong, resistant to the fade of time. Her voice called to him on the breeze. He closed his eyes and she was healthy and beautiful. Before.

The ancient amulet hummed in his pocket. The talisman had been too late to save Helena. Martin wished he’d met the same fate.

The building where he stood was nothing but a shell now, the inside gutted out. Just like him.

Mere survival was not the same as living.

 

**note: I made an edit based on reader feedback… just moved the order of two sentences. I feel like it makes a big difference in the flow. For anyone interested, this is the original:

Martin stood in the ruins of the abandoned hospital, his mind lost in the nightmares of 1860.  The building was nothing but a shell now, the inside gutted out. Just like him.

He could feel her here, his sweet Helena. Her imprint was strong, resistant to the fade of time. Her voice called to him on the breeze. He closed his eyes and  could envision her healthy and beautiful. Before.

The ancient amulet hummed in his pocket. The talisman had been too late to save Helena. Martin wished he’d met the same fate.

Mere survival was not the same as living.

 

 

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bulltot

This is written for the weekly flash fiction challenge, Friday Fictioneers. Check out the other 100-word gems of flash fiction here. Many thanks to our lovely host, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.

One Enchanted Evening

Ana laid tangled in Nick’s arms in the bed of his parked pickup truck, soft music floating from the cab. Far from city lights, a million stars dotted the sky. She thought the night couldn’t be more perfect but he promised more.

He led her through the woods to their campsite. Soft illumination inside the tent made it glow green like an emerald. Twinkle lights hung in the trees. The beauty left her breathless.

She turned to find him on one knee, ring in hand. Hope and anxiety were clear on his face.

Serenaded by cicadas, the couple celebrated her answer.

 

PHOTO PROMPT© Jan Wayne Fields

Happy weekend! This is written for the weekly flash fiction challenge, Friday Fictioneers. Check out the other 100-word gems of flash fiction here. Many thanks to our lovely host, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.