Laundromat Love

window-dressing-janet-webbMy life hung outside the window. This night would make or break, my future, love, heart. I couldn’t let her see it. Jealousy had destroyed her love for me, my faith in her. We both met Johnny at the laundromat. He fixed over-soaped, under paid machines. One late laundry night, he showed me a dress
that had been left behind long ago. Ruby red ruffles, skimmed the floor just right, as I sashayed down the
drier aisle  to midnight musak.
“Meet me under the fire escape”, he said. Donning the dress, falling into his arms…
… we’ve been gone ever since. .

photo copyright: Janet Webb

Written for: Rochelle-Wisoff-Fields Friday Fictioneers


“You Think We Could Get It To Talk”?

They stood wide-eyed, looking at the specimen, afraid to go near.
Never had they seen anything like this! Does it breathe, bite? What strange life form, lives in a see-through box, hanging on a wall? How does one communicate with such a…thing?

Snow fell. Blue sky turned grey. Crystal chimes sang out, calling all return to ship.
“Should we take it with us? You think we could get it to talk? We’re told no one’s alive down here. Best  let it go.” Floating towards their ship, hearing a shrill ring behind them. They responded .”h e l l o?”


For Friday Fictioneers                        photo copyright: Danny Bowman

Indulgence of Tradition

006The sun shone brightly through my window as I sat on the couch looking at pictures. We seem to do that at the loss of someone. Often, we’ll look back to another time, trying to figure, why that life is over.

As children we were taught traditions. Don’t speak unless spoken to, honor your Father, and call your Mother every day. The elements wear away our fragile outer selves, until we spend most of our time building hard shells, lest the erosion reach our tender, vulnerable hearts. So, like many, he was taken down by the illness of ‘not living up-to-par’,  he tried so hard to protect himself from.

written for Rochelle-Wisoff-Fields ‘Friday Fictioneers’ prompt

photo copyright: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


Halloween Horror Offering (Very Flash Fiction)

So….. here were the rules. Write a scary story in 3 sentences, under 100 words. This came from Terrible Minds … (Chuck Wendig) great fun, resources, and challenges, btw.


Annie could see the rage building in Chuck with every slash he made.

Struggling, crawling, she stretched with all her might before he could strike with his mighty weapon.

But she couldn’t reach him in time, and she watched in horror as her story ran red from the gash of his pen as he sliced through her entry, because it was more than three sentences.