Beneath – Friday Fictioneers

Happy Friday Fictioneers! I’ve missed everyone. I have been away for a spell.

This is a repeat for me, but I reworked this a bit. I don’t know if I made any improvements.

As always, thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for keeping everything afloat. Congratulations to Rochelle for completing her edits for her third novel in a series entitled AS ONE MUST ONE CAN. Way to go!

Thanks to Georgia Koch for this week’s photo.

Do you believe?

Copyright – Georgia Koch
Copyright – Georgia Koch


“We got a boat. No excuses,” Joe said. “Old man Cassel is still out there.”

“Paddling in that pea soup makes about as much sense as surfing a tsunami. You ain’t gettin’ me in that boat.”

“That Nellie business is nothing but a campfire story.”

Heavy air shrouded them, erasing their shapes. The skiff knocked around in the choppy water like driftwood as they attempted to steer in one direction. The water swelled, pulling them toward the center of the lake.

Joe’s radio buzzed. “We got Cassell. C’mon back. Over.”

“I can’t see anything—”

Spiky tendrils latched on, sending them under, below, beneath.


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A Greeting – Friday Fictioneers

It’s time for Friday Fictioneers, where come together to write a 100-word story based on a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting and leading this group. This week she’s provided the photo and it’s a wonderful choice.

All are welcome to join in with their own story. Visit Rochelle’s blog for details.

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

A Greeting

The lump in the sand quivered as if it housed a trapped worm, rippling in sync with the waves rushing in and out.

Vinn dropped beside the lump and rolled on top of it flat on his back. He felt tranquil, the breeze tickling the hairs of his nose, at the sides of his lanky body and all the way down to his toes.

“Stop it,” he said, erupting into laughter. His body sunk between two soft mounds of sand and he wriggled off, and stared into blue jewels that blinked back at him.

“Took you long enough,” she said.


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Island Fever – Friday Fictioneers

It’s time for Friday Fictioneers. I’m the late night crew. Ha! Well, I made it.

Thanks to Madison Woods for the prompt and a special thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, who is celebrating her fourth-year anniversary hosting the Friday Fictioneers. A big, heartfelt thank you to her! We are so lucky to have her leadership.

My 100-word story follows. This is part of something I’ve been working on, an excerpt I suppose, revamped for this prompt. It’s a fantasy, although this might not appear to be…

PHOTO PROMPT © Madison Woods

(100 words)

Island Fever

Waves crashed among faint drumming of the markets and playful dwellers’ banter. It was the pulse of the island and it flowed through Varella like blood. From her self-burial in the sand, Varella sprang to her feet and stumbled onto the path, not knowing where it lead.

Away. That was the only destination that mattered if there was such a place.

Trees shrunk around her to a miniaturized version of themselves, as if squashed from above. Only Varella remained a full measure of herself, slamming into bushes swarming with thickets biting at her ankles, pinning her to the soft sand.


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Green River Hag – Friday Fictioneers

I’m fashionably late this week with my story. I hope you can still read it.

Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields who leads the Friday Fictioneers group each week with such grace and style. Rochelle also provided this week’s photo. Thank you, Rochelle!

The challenge is to write a 100-word story based on a photo. All are welcome to participate.

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Genre: Fantasy (100 words)

Green River Hag

“Her skin glistens. T’was never green,” said Callum.

“You’re in love with a hag,” the barkeeper said, smacking Callum’s head.

“Am not.”

“Ya are!”

“She’s not a hag!

“Don’t see her again.”

Those who walked the river’s edge disappeared. The hag gashed at their ankles, dragging and drowning them in one breath.

Callum swelled with love and couldn’t stay away from her.

But his dreams tormented him for there he saw her with lizard-green skin, muddy ropes for hair, and inky craters for eyes, which swarmed with snakes that choked him as he slept.

One day, he wouldn’t wake up.


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Dishwater Man – Friday Fictioneers

Welcome to Friday Fictioneers, where writers gather to write a 100-word story prompted by a photo, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Thanks to Rochelle for leading the group and for this week’s photo.

Whenever I wash dishes, my mind wanders a bit. Secretly, I like it. Sorry, I’m a bit late this week. I hope you’ll still read my story.

All are welcome to participate. Here are instructions.

PHOTO PROMPT- © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Genre: Fantasy (100 words)

Dishwater Man

Vanessa’s daily dishwashing borders on disturbing joy, a synthesis of oblivion and compulsion. She washes every dish, dirty or clean. When she turns the faucet on, sunlight breaks through the dust and a handsome man strolls towards her, holding yellow daffodils as if he had just picked them fresh for her. She feels the warmth of his smile radiating through the glass.

With the water off, the man vanishes in mid-step. A stroll on the grounds reveals no evidence of his presence, no footprint, scent, nor sound.

Except today.

Knock, knock.

She keeps the water running and walks to the door.


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Window to the Sky – Friday Fictioneers

It’s time for the Friday Fictioneers challenge, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Today’s amazing photo was contributed by Roger Bultot. Roger does not have a website, but has kindly provided this photo for our prompt.

As always, everyone is welcome to write their own 100-word story. Instructions are here. Why not give it a try?

Here’s my story. I’m aware the end is a bit abrupt. 🙂

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

Genre: Speculative Fiction (101 words)

Window to the Sky

A patch of sunlight fell on Justine’s shoulders from a window to the sky. She dug at the concrete to extract its heat. Grime coated her throat, raw from screaming that pounded in her ears. Was she screaming still?

Her shivering did not move thick walls of dripping sea water enclosing around her.

It wasn’t a trick of the eye. In her mind she still saw the glare in the window and an opening door.

A voice commanded her. “This place doesn’t exist and neither do you.”

The ground gaped open and a rush of water flushed her out to sea.


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Interminabilis – Friday Fictioneers

It’s time for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by the wonderful Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Writers are invited to write a 100-word story based on photo prompt. This week’s photo was provided by Jennifer Pendergast. Thank you, Jennifer.

PHOTO PROMPT – © Jennifer Pendergast

Genre: Fantasy (100 words)


A man spilled out of the rusted canoe onto the green earth and stared at the sky with a dopey smile.

Margo halted her rigid pace of her daily walk to stare at his attire; a feathered hat, striped pants and boots.

“Are you lost?”

“No, madam. I’m home.” He jumped to his feet and kissed her hand. “You’re the first, so get on.” He nudged her inside the slopping water.

“But I can’t.”

“But you did. There’s no altering the course. Don’t even try.” He waved to her.

The canoe accelerated, its rust sliding off like an old skin.


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