Archive | August, 2014


31 Aug

Written for:

Sunday Photo Fiction: August 31st 2014

75 08 August 31st 2014


My mother is the Queen of useless gifts. Last Christmas she presented me with a pendulum which she insisted would look great on my office desk. I honestly think it was a sly attempt at mockery since she knows full well that I suffer from misophonia and that the clicking would drive me beyond rage. Nonetheless, like a good daughter I set the damned thing up and swore to everyone who entered the room that they would be put to death if they even so much as thought about getting those silver balls swinging.

Yesterday afternoon as I was deep in thought ( or possibly napping ) the tiny orbs began to vibrate then suddenly started moving on their own. I had just enough time to dive beneath the desk as drawers slid open and began emptying on the floor. Lamps, picture frames and ceiling tiles fell like rain all around me. What felt like an eternity only lasted a couple of minutes. Sweet! My first San Francisco earthquake.

…No Evil…

17 Aug

Written for :

Sunday Photo Fiction: August 17th 2014

73 08 August 17th 2014…No Evil…

He sits at the edge of the cliff and revisits his childhood, remembering his neighbors the meerkats. Thinking about how they would watch him from the shadows and whisper among themselves, never willing to get involved. “A man’s home is his castle. What goes on in their house is not our concern.”

They would raise the volume on their televisions to drown out the noises and avert their eyes from the bruises. “Poor children” they would say, but they never – ever reached out a helping hand.

He shakes his head, trying to erase the memories. Standing up he takes a deep breath and slowly approaches the edge of the escarpment and shoves the lifeless body of his father over the edge.


The Art Of Listening..

15 Aug

Written for:

Sunday Photo Fiction: August 10th 2014

72 08 August 10th 2014


“You could at least pretend to be happy.” he hissed under his breath. “You’re  just depressed because you want to be. All you have to do is try harder. Now cut it out dammit you’re spoiling the fun for everyone.

“It’s not that..” I try for the umpteenth time to explain “its the dream I had. Please can we go now?”

“NO” he says with pouty lips “we stay”

I try not to look at the gathering storm clouds as the planes give a final salute, wing tip to wing tip the jets pass over our heads.The thunder  is barely audible with the roar of their engines. The jets disappear over the horizon just as the first large drops of rain begin to fall. My boyfriend and his buddies  run for cover as I stand there frozen with fear.

I ask myself for the last time, why wouldn’t he listen when I tried to tell him about my nightmare? A deafening crack splits the air as a bolt of lightning sends his body catapulting end to end like a rag doll, just as my dream predicted.


14 Aug

Written for Friday Fictioneers

15 August 2014

Hosted on  August 13, 2014 by rochellewisoff

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright - Jan Wayne Fields
PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright – Jan Wayne Fields

Above my antique writing desk is a watercolor painting that came to me by way of my Grandfather . The glass is cracked in one corner the result of falling to the floor the day my Aunt left his house forever, slamming the door behind her.

“Women have no business attending medical school” he had yelled at the closed door “next damn thing you’ll be wanting to vote.”

I keep a picture of Granddad propped  on the desk as a daily reminder of how one man’s narrowmindedness inspired someone to follow her dream. I pick up my pen and follow mine..

Willie Alaire

7 Aug

written for Friday Fictioneers

8 August 2014

Björn 6

PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright-Björn Rudberg


Willie Alaire

William Alaire is an artist. Unfortunately  for him, his best work is done when he is stark naked. Uninhibited by clothing and unspoken rules he makes magic with brush and oils.

His neighbors were always complaining about him. Put aside that they were all voyeurs,  Willie was the constant recipient of police visits and citations for indecent exposure.

When he found the house on Craig’s List he could hardly believe his luck, his nearest neighbor was almost twenty kilometers away! He finished unpacking and stripped down.

What he hadn’t planned for was the mosquitos the size of helicopters.

Cul – de – sac

3 Aug

Written for :

Sunday Photo Fiction: August 3rd 2014

71 08 August 03 2014I know what the neighbors think of me, that I am eccentric. They laugh at me and the painted stones in my garden. Yet they haven’t got a clue.

These are my private joke. One represents Marsha from across the street, always one eye peeking out from behind her brocade drapes. Nothing happens on this cul-de-sac without her seeing it. Then there is Martin my mailman with his ill-fitting dentures that clack together as he speaks. Topping off the trio is Shirley from next door who chases men with her tongue hanging out like a starving dog.

But this is just the tip of the iceberg. On my work table in the basement is an entire community of voodo dolls which look remarkably like their name sakes.

The squirrels and the birds keep me well informed of what the gossip mongers are saying behind my back. I am just biding my time but soon, very soon, I will host a campfire and everyone is invited.