Jar of Souls

Hi there – it’s been a while!    Friday Fictioneers time again – the lovely Rochelle provides us with a photo for inspiration and we provide a story in 100 words.  Thanks to Janet Webb for the lovely photo.  Here’s my offering. It feels good to be back…




Miranda started as she heard the rap on the door.   Her 10 o’clock was early.

Stopping to adjust her cleavage in the mirror and wiping an errand bit of lipstick from her teeth, she braced herself, smiled, and welcomed him in.  Not as fat as the last one.  And smelt nice; of cinnamon or Korean Spice.  An expensive shirt and the not-unusual tan line on the left hand second finger.

Turning towards the bedroom, her eye caught the jar on the windowsill; the small lights within dancing in the sun.  Her collection of souls:  Soon to be one more.

Word count: 100


See everyone else’s An InLinkz Link-up

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Hope: Spring Eternal

I haven’t been around for a few weeks.  Personal issues playing havoc with my creative mojo.   But now; I’m back! Still not quite firing on all cylinders but I’m back!!

Thanks, as always to Rochelle for hosting us Friday Fictioneers:  Each week, people who love writing respond to a photographic prompt in 100 words or less.  Thanks, too, to  The Reclining Gentleman for this week’s photo inspiration:


I remember the terraces as they used to be: Side-by-side, back-to-back, dark hovels of misery.  Some fought their demolition; hoping until the last minute, that they would get a reprieve.  Not me.  Couldn’t wait to ship out.  In their hay-day I’m sure they made great homes.  But then the druggies moved in.  The shitty landlords with their shitty tenants.  Doors that used to be open, deadlocked after 5pm. Nobody talked.  No – I welcomed the bulldozers!  The only shame: the cash ran out before the new homes could be built. So I planted the bulbs.  Hope.

(Word count: 100)


To read others’ wonderful takes and maybe even add your own, click here

My Little Ghost

Friday Fictioneers time again – my favourite time of the week.   Hosted by Rochelle, this week’s photo prompt is © J Hardy Carroll


This was our graveyard.  I remember playing with her when I was little.  I didn’t realise at the time how she didn’t age a day.  She was beautiful; pale skin that looked iridescent in the evening glow, light blue eyes that seemed to hold the World and a laugh so delicate that I always imaged it to be the sound butterfly wings made.  Now, old and frail, I watch her with her new young playmate.  They look so happy, so carefree.  As I turn to leave, our eyes meet momentarily. Is that a flicker of recognition?  How I loved her.

To read the other submissions or add your own, click:


(Words: 100)


Me and The Devil Blues

Friday Fictioneers time again.  Each week, Rochelle sets us a challenge by way of a picture prompt.  The challenge:  a story in 100 words based on the prompt.


I’ve been planning this trip since my impressionable, wide-eyed 15-year-old self watched Capra’s It Happened One Night.  Now here I was:  24 and full of expectation.  I adjusted my headphones, crossed my legs in an attempt to look as effortlessly seductive as Ellie Andrews, and settled into my seat.  It didn’t take me long, looking around my fellow passengers, to realise that this wasn’t the way to meet my Clark Gable.  I smiled dejectedly as Clapton’s version of ’Me and The Devil Blues’ started on my iPod; much more realistic!  I wondered where the next stop was.

(Words 100)

Me and the Devil Blues – Robert Johnson

To read the other entries – please click the froggy below

No likey no lighty

It’s Friday Fictioneers time again:  100 words to tell a story based on one photo prompt.  Hosted by the lovely Rochelle, whose photo we’re also using for inspiration this week.   This photo took me back to one of my worst experiences during my time on the internet dating “scene”.  *shivers. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.  to read all of the submissions, click the link…



PHOTO PROMPT -© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Who suggests a first date at a shopping precinct?!  This had better be good.   No spaces in the lower car park; the rain is belting down.  It’s dark and cold.  I’m hungry.  Actually, I’m grumpy and hungry.  Grumpy, hungry and now wet.  This had better be really good.

Was that him?!  He was in the right spot.  Wearing the right colour shirt.  He smiled and waved.  Jesus!  His profile photo must have been taken at least 10 years ago.  At least 10 kilos ago, too.

I’m missing the Apprentice for this.  I wonder if John Lewis has a sale on.

(Word count: 100)

The Office Cowboy

Friday Fictioneering time again:  Where Rochelle hosts a host of us, all writing a story of 100 words based around a picture prompt.  This week’s prompt had me smiling.  I hope you enjoy my offering.  To read the others’, click the link:



PHOTO PROMPT – © Marie Gail Stratford

Some people try too hard.  I knew from the second he walked into the office with his sharp suit and expensive hair do that he’d be a total prick.  And I was right.  He uses Verdana font for his emails, for frig’s sake.  What’s wrong with Arial 12?!  And don’t get me started on his “comical” mug, politically correct jokes and B.S. Bingo management speak.  And now that multi-coloured, wifi mouse!!!  How on Earth they chose him for the job over me,  I’ll never know.  And now I’m supposed to call him boss!  Like I said; total prick.

(Word count: 100)

Oh and by the way, please don’t take offence – I use Verdana font 😉

Objects in the rearview mirror

Friday Fictioneers time  again.  I missed last week.  Life got in the way – annoying as I promised myself that wouldn’t happen.  But… I’m back…!   One picture; one hundred words:


She didn’t notice them at first.  Actually, she must have driven at least 4 miles before she realised that they weren’t the usual size or spacing for headlights.  She froze.  She remembered Them from last time.  Their cold, unblinking stares.  Their long, creepy fingers.  Their strange, musical language.  From what she remembered, They had been kind enough, in Their own way. But she didn’t remember everything.  Three days missing.  No pain.  No scars.  No recurring dreams.  Nothing.  Nothing but a strange sense of foreboding.  And that voice in her head as They left her in the forest: “This isn’t goodbye”.


Thanks for reading.  Check out the others’ here