What happened here?

There is a wooden rocking chair covered with dust.

And a mattress eaten away by time.

Discarded on the bare window sill sits an old teddy bear.

He saw it all and he still continues to see.

Love, illness and pain.

Death, dust and gloom.

She used to throw him into the air, then hug him and spin him around.

Now her fragile little body is buried six feet underground.

Thirty years on and you can still feel the haze of immense pain in the air.

That is why they lock the door and try to forget what happened here.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I was trying to work out what to post today. Whether to write a piece to enter this week’s Friday Fictioneers or whether to share a little bit more of my work in progress Discovering Home.

While I was staring at my desk calendar debating which to do, the image of a dusty old rocking chair came to mind. I wrote down whatever flowed and then tidied it up to be 100 words only.

It’s a little sad and dark. I guess the ominous way I’ve been feeling lately has worked its way into every part of my brain.

Prologue: Discovering Home

So my attempt at NaNoWriMo 2015 was a bit on the Go Slow. Life got in the way. But I intend to finish the story I started.  So far I’m calling it, Discovering Home, but that’s its working title and may change.

The longest continuous piece I had written before NANoWriMo was only 1200 words and I beat that on my first NaNo day with 1696 words. But I hadn’t actually expected to hit the 50,000-word mark on my first attempt. I feel like I’m ok with beginning and ends, but struggle with the middles. It’s probably why I love writing the Friday Fictioneers 100 word stories, there isn’t room for middle fluff. Next year I will definitely try to plan for my book, rather then just seeing what happens like this year.

I decided to get myself motivated again I’d share a little bit of my work in progress.

Disco Home CollageBlurb (thus far): Joe is a young woman trying to decipher the secrets of her family history after her grandmother mysteriously disappears.

A fictional story about family with a romantic (maybe) and paranormal (definitely) twist.

* * *   Prologue   * * *

My Grandmother’s house only had two bedrooms, but those two bed rooms held a lot of secrets. So many secrets that I believe that still don’t know them all. But I’m getting there. For the past six months I’ve been reading through my grandmother’s diaries. She wrote in a diary every day. There is a half-finished entry from the day she disappeared. It reads “the trees are quiet and look still, but I can feel something moving, hiding in their branches. I think it’s about time I told Josephine about th…” and that’s where it finishes.

Finding the diary open and my Grammy Mac missing has prompted me to sift through her private diaries. A part of me keeps expecting her to walk into the bedroom and scold me like when I was five and caught going through her things. But she never does. And the longer she’s gone, the more I wish she would.

I always thought my grandmother and I were close, she practically raised me. But in reading her Diaries I realise there was so much more to her. So much more I wish she had shared. My dad went AWOL when he found out my mother was pregnant with me and my mother chose the voices in her head over me the day she drove of off the Newton Street jetty.

My grandmother was born Martha Josephine Fionnula Mac a’Bhaird, yeah it’s a mouthful. She was born in 1938 in Glasgow, Scotland. But grew up in the small town a Cranford away up in the snowy mountains of New South wales, Australia. She was raised by three aunts, they brought her over from Scotland when she was only seven years old. I’d never heard her speak of her mother or father. I wished I’d asked more, but I always felt uncomfortable bringing it up.

I am lost. I am struggling without her here. Even with the age difference between us she was always my best friend. I stare out of her window and glare at those trees. Oh how I wish they could tell me something, anything, about where my Grammy has gone.

Today is the 25th of December 2005, Christmas Day and it’s my 18th birthday. Six months Grammy’s been gone. Six months since I’ve slept or eaten properly. Endless reading of yellowed pages and elegant handwritten script. I can’t even remember the last time I left the house or showered. I don’t smell too bad, so I’m guessing it’s only a few days. I know this isn’t how she’d want me to live.

I’ve made the decision to move all the furniture and Grammy’s personal items into a storage unit. I intend on selling Grammy’s house. My boss at the local newsagents was really kind and understanding, it took her two months of me not showing up to work to fire me. There really isn’t anything left for me here.

I can’t really explain how I feel; I know it’s not natural. I understand grief and depression, but this is something more, it’s like I can’t physically do anything but obsessively read through the diary’s. Sometimes I think I can feel a presence in the trees, but then I realise I haven’t slept for thirty plus hours and I am just sleep deprived.

© Sarah Fairbairn

At Peace: Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Story Challenge

She felt at peace as she stood on the edge of the cliff overlooking the ocean.

The Sorceress had foretold the outcome of this day 90 years ago when she was a mere 15.

She’d had a good life with her human family, a full and happy life.

She felt a tightness in her chest as she stumbled forwards and fell.

Her heart spluttered and seized as she spiralled down through the air.

All the pain disappeared the moment she hit the water and her consciousness faded.

Verna the mermaid had gone home, to her final resting place at sea.

* * *

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Fields where writers around the world create 100 word stories inspired by the one image.

This week’s PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

For more information, CLICK HERE to see Rochelle’s website

Or CLICK HERE to view the other Friday Fictioneers stories for this week.

Missed: Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Story Challenge

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Fields where writers around the world create 100 word stories inspired by the one image.

* * *

His little legs pumped up and down as fast as they could. He rounded the corner by flinging himself round the light poll.

He could see the bus up ahead, it was just pulling away from the curb.  

“No please wait” he yelled, but it was no good. He’d missed the bus again.

He sat down in the dirt by the side of the road and cried.

He’d really been looking forward to the trifle his mumma was cooking for desert. But all he was going to get was a bruised backside from his daddy.

He’d missed the bus again.

* * *

 For more information CLICK HERE to see Rochelle’s website 
Or CLICK HERE to view the other Friday Fictioneers stories for this week. 
This week’s PHOTO PROMPT © Ron Pruitt

copyright-Ron-Pruitt

Killer Carnival: Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Story Challenge

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Fields where writers around the world create 100 word stories inspired by the one image.

* * *

I had never been a fan of carnival rides, they always felt dodgy.
We were flying, spinning around three stories above the ground. I could hear the metal creaking and groaning.

Then it happened.

I heard a growling grinding noise, then a metallic ping.
Next thing I knew I was plummeting towards the ground.
I thought about how devastated my mum would be, how happy my step-sister would be. I thought about my old dog, Gumby.

Then suddenly I wasn’t falling anymore. I was flying upwards with two big strong arms cradling me.
That was the day I met Superman.

* * *

 For more information CLICK HERE to see Rochelle’s website 
Or CLICK HERE to view the other Friday Fictioneers stories for this week. 
This week’s PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Extinction: Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Story Challenge

I knew it was pointless, that I would be too late. But I had to see it for myself.

The door popped open and my nostrils were assaulted with the foul stench of decay.

I gingerly stepped outside, my eyes taking in nothing but burnt land and smoldering Furly-Pon skeletons.

They had been a peaceful race and never stood a chance against us.

If my engines hadn’t failed I would have got here sooner and been able to save at least a few of them.

Another world conquered. Another race wiped out.

Well done humans, when will it be enough?

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Fields where writers around the world create 100 word stories inspired by the one image.

This week’s PHOTO PROMPT © Douglas M. MacIlroypleisiosaur_

For more information CLICK HERE to see Rochelle’s website

Or CLICK HERE to view the other Friday Fictioneers stories for this week.

Petrol Fumes: Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Story Challenge

‘‘RUN’’ came a voice from the next room.

I was dizzy from the petrol fumes and didn’t react in time.

Within what felt like seconds the whole room I was standing in was alight.

I hadn’t let on to the local boys that I thought it was wrong.

I wanted to be one of them.

I wanted to fit in.

It was stupid and I will probably always have scars from the third degree burns I suffered.

I’m just glad I’m alive, some of the boys weren’t so lucky.

I’ve never felt the need to fit in ever again.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Fields where writers around the world create 100 word stories inspired by the one image.

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

This week’s PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

For more information see Rochelle’s website >>

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/04/15/17-april-2015/

Or to view the other Friday Fictioneers stories from this week >>

http://new.inlinkz.com/luwpview.php?id=515239

The Doctor: Friday Fictioneers 100 Word Story Challenge

Sorry guy’s I’ve been watching a lot of Dr Who lately, David Tennant style. I love that man, or should I say I love that Doctor. This flew out of my hands at 167 words and as I always make it exactly 100 words, it was hard to cut down – but TADA! I did it. I can totally see myself running across a field like a lunatic chasing after a blue police box Mwahahaha.

*  *  *

I didn’t see the stump hidden in the long grass. I didn’t have time to register the pain radiating from my left shin bone. I got right back up and kept running.

I could see the old school blue police box in front me. Adventure and freedom so close I could feel it.

I was about 200 meters away when the box shimmered, I heard a grinding noise and it disappeared.

So close.

I broke down and cried.

I’m still looking for that blue box and hopefully one day I will get my chance to travel time with the Doctor.

1big

*  *  *

Friday Fictioneers is a challenge set by Rochelle Fields where writers around the world create 100 word stories inspired by the one image.

This week’s PHOTO PROMPT Copyright Sandra Crook

Frost on a stump. Sandra Crook.

For more information see:

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/03/11/13-march-2015/

The Drunk: Friday Fictioneers 100 word story challenge

Friday Fictioneers is a challenge set by Rochelle Fields where writers around the world create 100 word stories inspired by the one image.

* * *

I stare across our front lawn. The drunk is passed out next to his poorly parked shit heap.

So he did make it home last night.

It’s only a matter of time before the cops get him, or the Berley boys, I just hope it’s before he kills someone.

I decide I better attempt to drag him in the house.

I approach him and see blood, a lot of blood. I check his pulse. I grin wickedly to myself as I walk inside to call 000.

I am yet to know who or how, but someone has set me free.

 * * *

**NOTE** ‘000’ is the Aussie equivalent to ‘911’.

This week’s PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

PHOTO PROMPT -Copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

For more information see:

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/02/11/13-february-2015/

Phillip: Friday Fictioneers 100 word story challenge

Phillip was staring at a Route 66 sign and he was feeling rather sorry for himself.

He had just convinced the lady behind the counter to give him a cup of tea, when he felt the room shake; his vision twisted and blacked out.

His ears popped and his vision returned. He was standing in what appeared to be a dirt hut.

“Not again” he moaned to himself “I’d only just figured out where I was, again”.

Furious with the fate he had been given, he stomped out the door to try and discover where he’d ended up this time.

 PHOTO PROMPT – © Copyright Jean L. Hays

Begin the Route

Friday Fictioneers is a challenge set by Rochelle Fields where writers around the world create 100 word stories inspired by the one image. For more information see:

http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2015/01/07/2-january-2015/